The Man of the Wilderness: Book One in the For God and Freedom Trilogy

By D. Larry Gregg, Sr.

For centuries, the First Jewish War Against Rome (66 – 70 C.E.) and the subsequent fall of Masada has been synonymous with implacable courage against overwhelming odds. This is the story of the courageous attempt of one determined man to live with integrity and die with honour. First century Romans, Jews, and Christians: the wise, the mad, the corrupt, and the saintly meet in this inspiring tale of intrigue, romance, warfare, and triumph.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886939767

D. Larry Gregg, Sr.

Dr. D. Larry Gregg, Sr. is a retired Christian Minister and University and Divinity School professor. In retirement, he has chosen to pursue a third career as an author of both fiction and nonfiction. Gregg holds a doctorate in the areas of Christian Theology, Patristics (Early Christian History), and New Testament Studies. He has traveled widely in the modern countries of Israel and Jordan visiting various Old Testament, New Testament, and Classical historical sites, and has participated in archaeological digs in the region as well. Gregg is the author of more than two dozen articles related to biblical studies, early Christian history, and various biblical sites including a number of articles in the Eerdmans Dictionary of the Bible (2000). His previous publications include Through a Glass Darkly – But I Still See: Reflections of a Believing Thinker and a Thinking Believer (2005), If You Ain’t Somewhere Doin’ Somethin’: More Reflections of a Thinking Believer (2005), Ten Biblical Characteristics of a Great Church (2007), Random Musings of a Contented Old Man(2022), and a novel, Timotheus – Dearly Beloved Son (2022). His latest novel, The Man of the Wilderness (2023), the first of a trilogy based on the First Jewish War against Rome and the fall of Masada, is Gregg’s first publication with Austin Macauley Publishers. A native of Tuscaloosa, AL, Dr. Gregg is married to the former Peggy Franks of Birmingham, AL. They have two adult sons and three grandchildren. The Gregg’s currently live near Rutherfordton, NC in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

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About the Author

Dr. D. Larry Gregg, Sr. is a retired Christian Minister and University and Divinity School professor. In retirement, he has chosen to pursue a third career as an author of both fiction and nonfiction. Gregg holds a doctorate in the areas of Christian Theology, Patristics (Early Christian History), and New Testament Studies. He has traveled widely in the modern countries of Israel and Jordan visiting various Old Testament, New Testament, and Classical historical sites, and has participated in archaeological digs in the region as well.

Gregg is the author of more than two dozen articles related to biblical studies, early Christian history, and various biblical sites including a number of articles in the Eerdmans Dictionary of the Bible (2000). His previous publications include Through a Glass Darkly—But I Still See: Reflections of a Believing Thinker and a Thinking Believer (2005), If You Ain’t Somewhere Doin’ Somethin’: More Reflections of a Thinking Believer (2005), Ten Biblical Characteristics of a Great Church (2007), Random Musings of a Contented Old Man(2022), and a novel, Timotheus—Dearly Beloved Son (2022). His latest novel, The Man of the Wilderness (2023), the first of a trilogy based on the First Jewish War against Rome and the fall of Masada, is Gregg’s first publication with Austin Macauley Publishers.

A native of Tuscaloosa, AL, Dr. Gregg is married to the former Peggy Franks of Birmingham, AL. They have two adult sons and three grandchildren. The Gregg’s currently live near Rutherfordton, NC in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Dedication

To the memory of both Larry and Peggy’s beloved parents, Mary Marguerite Norris Gregg Smith, William Durell Franks, and Opal Tidwell Franks whose faith and encouragement have made any of our meaningful accomplishments possible.

Copyright Information ©

D. Larry Gregg, Sr. 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

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Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Gregg, Sr., D. Larry

The Man of the Wilderness

ISBN 9798886939750 (Paperback)

ISBN 9798886939767 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023910876

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

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Acknowledgment

A work such as this could not have been produced apart from the knowledge and insights of former teachers; numerous authors, both classical and contemporary; and the editorial assistance of Austin Macauley Publishers. To them, the author owes a debt of gratitude.

Prologue

The Man

From his earliest childhood recollections, two thoughts absorbed the mind and heart of Jacob ben David: God and Freedom. Today, standing on the wall overlooking the Roman siege ramp built against the western side of mad old Herod’s stronghold by the Asphalt Lake, it seemed that both God and Freedom had eluded him.

In a few hours, death would come to a people who appeared abandoned by God and who had lost their reckless, passionate struggle for freedom.

Jacob looked down upon the large Roman camp to the northwest. Once again, he marveled at the disciplined orderliness of these harsh, godless, ruthless people. Low, straight walls of packed earth and stone surrounded the regular square of the camp.

Each corner was reinforced by a stone tower. The earth used in the walls came from a ditch some eight cubits wide and six cubits deep, which had been dug around all four sides of the camp. Jutting from the base of the wall at the top of the ditch were strong wooden stakes sharpened on one end and hardened in fire.

Any force foolish enough to launch a direct attack upon the camp would have to cross a wide open space, cleared of all cover, under a barrage of arrows and stones. The survivors would then have to plunge down the sides of the ditch and scale the opposite slope and wall that together were almost nine cubits high.

Those who were not trampled, shot with arrows, or impaled on the sharpened wooden stakes, would then be caught between a murderous arrow and javelin fire from the two corner towers on either side. Trapped between the ditch behind them, and a line of hardened legionaries on the wall above them, the few remaining attackers would be mercilessly slaughtered before they came close to breaching the wall.

Each outside wall of the camp was pierced by a well-defended gate. From the corner watchtowers, sharp-eyed legionaries constantly surveyed the cliffs and wadis of the Judean Desert, the Jewish slaves forced to build the siege ramp and assault weapons, and, most of all, they watched the massive rock of Masada.

The camp into which Jacob looked was one of eight surrounding the fortress that was the last remaining rebel stronghold. This large camp on the northwest, and an almost identical one directly east of the fortress, were set farther back than the others and served as headquarters and staging areas.

The other six camps, small, but of essentially the same design, formed a tight ring around the entire rock massif upon which Masada was built. Set back just far enough to be out of range of arrows and small ballista missiles, the six smaller encampments were connected to one another by an earthen wall or agger.

The end result was that Masada was cut off from all contact with the outside world. When it fell, the war would finally be over. The Jews’ desperate bid for deliverance from the domination of Rome would die with the death of the defenders of Masada.

With remorseless deliberation, the Romans completed their preparations for the final assault which would come on the morrow. Jacob watched the purposeful haste of the legionaries as they drove thousands of his fellow countrymen to their tasks.

For almost three years, the entire lifetime of his infant daughter, Jacob and his companions had resolutely defended this, the most impregnable of all Herod’s palace fortresses, against the most formidable warriors of the mightiest empire the world had ever known.

There could be no doubt about the intentions of Silva and the 10th Legion. Thwarted by the determined resistance of the defenders of Fortress Masada, and compounded by the personal animosity that lay between Jacob ben David and Flavius Silva, the Roman commander’s early admiration for the courage and determination of the rebels had distilled, under the burning sun of the Judean Desert, into an implacable hatred that now wanted only to savagely destroy.

Soon, it would be over. There remained only one mind-numbing, appalling act of desperate assertion; one last defiant gesture, one brutal victory to wrench from the grasp of the triumphant Romans, one act of mercy in a merciless world. And then, perhaps, both God and Freedom.

As Jacob watched the relentless preparations in the camp below, his mind reached back across the years in search of reasons to help him understand how he had come to this place. If he could understand how and why, perhaps that knowledge would help him find the strength to do the terrible thing that must be done before the dawn of another day.

Caesarea Philippi (44–53 C.E.)

Chapter One

As the Dews of Hermon Descended on the

Mountains of Zion —Psalm 133:3

Jacob would always remember his mother as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His early childhood was enshrined in impressions of her bending low over his bed, the softness of her ebony black hair brushing against his mouth and cheeks as she bent to kiss his forehead.

By closing his eyes, he could still be engulfed in the scent of her: jasmine, hyacinth, bougainvillea. Beneath the sweetness of the flowers of spring, he could also smell the healthy fragrance of vigorous exercise, the vitality of life, and her joy in being.

There were the wide deep pools of her eyes, looking soft brown from beneath a forehead crowned by long, dark tresses, which framed her face and hung to her shoulders. Disdaining the concern of other women for fairness of skin, she allowed the warm upper Galilean sun to bathe her face in a rich, warm tone that reminded one of honey.

Thus, dusky face, black hair, and deep brown eyes left one with the impression of a disconcerting mystery. Many years later, his wanderings would take him deep into the land of the Nabataeans. There, he would see other women with these features and marvel at the beauty of the desert princesses from the land of Arabia Felix.

His mother was a princess. Her mother was Princess Aliena, daughter of Aretas IV, King of the Nabataeans. In Jacob’s childhood, the story was still told of how old Herod, King of the Jews, negotiated a marriage between his son, Herod Antipas, and the beautiful child, Aliena, daughter of Aretas.

This marriage was an attempt to bring to a close a long standing feud between the two rival dynastic families. The first Herod’s grandfather, Antipater, was an Idumaean who came to prominence under Alexander Jannaeus, one of the last of the Hasmonaeans.

Antipater married the daughter of a prominent Nabataean family and began a relationship between the ruling families of Nabataea and Judaea that would stretch down across many generations. The father of Herod, Antipater II, married a Nabataean woman named Cypros and further involved Herod’s family with the Nabataean ruling families.

In the years after the death of his father, Antipater II, Herod would send his wife and children to live with family at the hidden city of Petra while Herod actually conquered the kingdom which had been granted him by the largess of Octavian after the defeat of Antony and Cleopatra. Given the closeness of family ties, Herod frequently attempted to insert himself into the affairs of Nabataea when it seemed in his best interest. As the years passed, Herod continued to cultivate his relationship with Octavian, now Augustus, and attempted to enlarge his holdings. With his ambitions and his family connections, it was not surprising that his eye fell upon the prosperous land of the Nabataeans with its control of the major caravan routes up from the Arabian Sea and across the eastern desert.

During Herod’s last years, it seemed his territorial ambitions were to be realized. During a time of economic confusion in Nabataea, the royal family was forced to borrow money from Herod. When the Nabataeans were reluctant to repay the loan, and border raids broke out between the two kingdoms, Herod appealed to Augustus to be allowed to incorporate Nabataea into his own holdings.

At the height of the controversy, Aretas IV, Herod’s major rival, declared himself King of the Nabataeans. At this point, because of Aretas’ temerity in claiming the throne without consultation with the Roman ruler, Augustus was on the verge of ceding the land of the Nabataeans to Herod.

However, when Augustus became aware of the ongoing conflict between Herod and his sons, the Roman ruler questioned the ability of Herod to effectively control a larger geographic area. In the end, Augustus confirmed Aretas IV as ruler of Nabataea, much to the chagrin of Herod.

By this time, Herod’s health was failing fast. Hoping that his son might be able to acquire by inheritance what his father had been unable to acquire by conquest and political machination; during the last months of his life, Herod negotiated a dynastic marriage between his son, Antipas (age 17) and Aliena, daughter of Aretas IV (age 10).

Because of the tender age of the princess, and the confusion over the will of Herod, the princess was not sent to live with her new husband until after Antipas’ return from Rome where Augustus had confirmed him as Tetrarch of Galilee and Perea.

The story was also told of how Antipas, after many years of marriage, became involved with Herodias, the wife of one of his brothers and the daughter of another. Finally, having been spurned by her husband, Princess Aliena took her daughter, Marisa, who was to become the mother of Jacob ben David, and stole away in the darkness to take refuge in the fortress of Machaerus near the border of her father’s kingdom.

After Antipas divorced her, the princess returned to the home of Aretas IV in the hidden city which the Nabataeans had carved from the soft, multicolored sandstone cliffs. Antipas married Herodias and the furious Aretas IV, having experienced the perfidy of both father and son, launched a war against Antipas.

This war would spell disaster for both kingdoms. Less than a decade after Antipas spurned Aliena for Herodias, he had been removed by the Romans as Tetrarch of Galilee and Perea and banished, along with Herodias, to Gaul. In the years that followed, Nabataea was incorporated, with a titular client king, into the provincial system of the Roman Empire.

And Jacob ben David, grandson of Princess Aliena and Herod Antipas, would live and die remembering the stories told and retold against the backdrop of the struggle of a conquered people and their desperate bid for God and Freedom.

Jacob’s heart ached when he left his old nurse and playmates. It ached even more when his grandmother, the grandly beautiful and sadly mysterious Princess Aliena, held him to her breast, kissed his eyes and mouth, and mingled her tears with his on his youthful cheek.

Jacob tried to be strong but he loved her so much and, somehow he knew that this, their first parting, would also be their last. One day, life would bring him back to the cliffs and wadis of this austere land, but the eyes of this aged, elegant, sad woman would have closed in death long before he returned. Somehow, his young heart knew this parting was forever.

The journey was completely fascinating. The caravan strung out in a long line of camels, servants, litters, and pack animals. David ben Zadok and Princess Marisa were taking many rich gifts to Caesarea Philippi from the household of the King of the Nabataeans.

For days, the caravan wended its way along the King’s Highway toward what his father and mother said would be their new home. First, there had been the barren desert paved in purple/black basalt that gave stark witness to volcanic upheavals of bygone days.

They descended into the deep ravine of the River Zered, the traditional border between the ancient lands of Edom and Moab. Following the course of the wadi, they stopped to pay obeisance to the gods of the Nabataeans at the temple at et-Tannur before climbing out of the wadi to follow the trade route along the rolling plains and hills of ancient Moab.

Soon, they began the deep descent into the gorge of the River Arnon, border between the land of Moab and that of the Ammonites. Jacob’s eyes filled with wonder and his throat with fear as they picked their way down the steep sides of the gorge to the river below, and then climbed up the north side, which was even more precipitous than their descent.

All along the way, his father and the other men kept their hands close to their weapons for every turn and cliff afforded an opportunity for brigands to descend from the heights and raid the caravan as it stretched out in single file across the wadi gorge.

Once they reached the northern lip of the gorge, the land leveled out once more and the caravan followed the road northwards past the Mountain of Moses and Aaron, and then turned west to descend into the Jordan Valley. As they made their way into the valley, the temperature grew warmer and Jacob was delighted to see the date palms and fresh fruit trees of Jericho.

For several days, they rested at Jericho. One day, his father was visited by the strangest looking man Jacob had ever seen. Many years before, a group of disillusioned priests left Jerusalem and established themselves in an isolated community on a marl ridge just above the northwest corner of the Asphalt Lake.

There they lived their faith, practiced their rituals, and waited for the coming of a great day of vindication when the Sons of Light would overcome the Sons of Darkness in a final cataclysmic battle. While little was known of this obscure Jewish sect, many stories were recounted about them.

Even stricter in their observance of the Torah than the Pharisees, these Essenes went to great lengths to preserve water for their daily ritual ablutions. It was said they were obsessed with the study of the ancient writings and devoted much time to copying and preserving the manuscripts handed down across the generations.

It was also said that they had abandoned all normal family relations and no women were permitted to become a part of the community of these Sons of Light.

The gaunt, dusty man who came walking into the caravansary at Jericho looked strangely like Jacob’s father. Dressed in a worn, white robe, face covered with a long beard, emaciated and pale, to Jacob he appeared the oldest person alive.

When David ben Zadok looked up from the scroll he was reading, his face brightened at the sight of the stark figure coming across the courtyard toward them. As the man drew closer, David ben Zadok rose from the table where he had been working and stepped forward to meet him.

Shalom, my brother, the man said in a deep, strong voice.

May grace and peace be unto you, my brother, Jacob’s father replied in a voice that sounded not greatly different. Many months have passed since last we gazed on one another. I am glad my messenger found you. Tomorrow, we leave Jericho for Caesarea Philippi.

The man nodded and looked for a long moment into the eyes of David ben Zadok. Then he turned to look at Jacob, standing mesmerized at his father’s side. So this is the nephew I have not met. He is a fine looking boy.

Thank you, my brother, David replied. Placing his hand on the top of Jacob’s head, he steered the boy to stand in front of the stranger. Looking down at the child, David said, Jacob, my son, this is my brother, your uncle, Aaron ben Zadok.

The man’s austere face softened in a smile that reminded Jacob of his father and said, Peace be with you, my nephew.

Peace be with you, Jacob stuttered in response, his nervousness in the presence of this strange man betrayed in his quavering voice.

The two men, brothers indeed, but as different as any two brothers could be, walked across the courtyard together where they stood and talked for what seemed to Jacob a long time. Across the years, Jacob would remember many times this single occasion when he saw his father and his uncle together and he would marvel at how different two men could be.

His father, David ben Zadok, was not above middle height and somewhat past his fortieth year. Gray had begun to creep up the close cropped edges of his black hair. Urbane, sophisticated, widely traveled, and well educated, David ben Zadok carried himself with the dignity and self-assurance of a man accustomed to being deferred to.

His broad shoulders and thick thighs suggested many hours spent training in the use of sword and javelin. Clearly, this was a man comfortable and self-assured in the palaces of emperors, kings, and governors but no less comfortable in the legionary camps the Romans had planted across the world.

Proud of the Roman citizenship granted him by the emperor; many years before, David had reconciled his faithfulness to his Jewish religious heritage and his loyalty to the empire of Rome. Though an observant Jew, David’s religion was neither of the radical variety that wanted to return to the legendary glory days of the great kings, David and Solomon; nor was it an ethereal spirituality that wanted to lose itself in mystic contemplation.

Rather, David found no great conflict between the simple morality of the commandments of Moses and the Stoicism of Zeno of Citium and his disciples. Both enjoined faithfulness to God, loyalty to one’s family, fairness and integrity in one’s dealings with others.

Thus, David’s religion was one of practical living in the present. He had little use for those interested in escaping to return to imagined glories of the past or for visionary dreams of the future.

For David ben Zadok to serve God was to live by the universal law of the commandments, not the hair-splitting legalism of the Pharisees; to observe the Sabbath and Passover in quiet reflection and joyful family solidarity; to remember that Adonai’s favor and his people’s commitment to justice, mercy, and simple righteousness were directly related. This was the religion of an honest man.

For many years, David ben Zadok had been in the service of Lucius Pomponius Flaccus, the Roman Legate of Syria. It was in his role, as emissary of the Legate, that he first visited the court of the Nabataean ruler. There he had fallen in love with Princess Marisa, the daughter of Aliena and Herod Antipas.

Because of his status as confidant of the Roman Legate and his connections with the influential priestly house of Zadok, his suit was heard and he was permitted to marry the fifteen-year-old princess. Marisa had remained with the royal family of Nabataea while her husband traveled from Damascus to Jerusalem to Rome to Alexandria and back to Petra on the business of the Legate.

David ben Zadok was confidant, diplomat, soldier, and business agent; the eyes and ears, and often the voice, directly of the Syrian Legate and, indirectly, of the emperor in Rome.

Dressed in the short tunic and light leather armor of a high ranking Roman officer, he stood with his back straight, his feet planted widely apart, and his hands cupped lightly around the buckle of the broad leather belt that circled his waist. Jacob looked at his father across the courtyard and, for the first time in his life, sensed how deeply he loved this strong, forceful, yet gentle man.

The other man, apart from their facial and vocal similarity, in no way resembled Jacob’s father. Aaron ben Zadok was tall, spare to the point of emaciation, and clothed in a long, white, hooded robe that covered his head and fell to the soles of his sandals.

His long beard was bleached white by the desert sun and his face was burned by the wind and sun to the near darkness of the desert basalt. His eyes were set deeply, and appeared deeper yet as he gazed with the focused stare of a fanatic from under the hood of his long robe.

There was no air of urbane sophistication or polished scholarship about this man. Yet in another way, he did resemble Jacob’s father. There was that same self-assurance. Here was another man accustomed to having his counsel heard and his commands obeyed.

If David ben Zadok was a leader of men in the world of high politics and dynastic intrigue, Aaron ben Zadok was a leader of men in the world of the spirit, where men wrestled with powers and principalities and the darkness of their own thoughts.

Their religions were as different as their vocations. Several years older than David, Aaron left their comfortable home in Jerusalem as a young man. Their father had long been associated with the Sadducean party which controlled the affairs of the Temple and served as intermediary between the conquering Romans and the oppressed Jews.

But the youthful Aaron rebelled against the compromise and collusion of those who collaborated with the Romans, and who devoted their time to corrupted religious rituals and ceremonies, which were an offense to God and which victimized the poor who were often cheated by the functionaries of the Temple.

Of all the stories he heard as a child, Aaron was stirred most deeply by the account of Elijah’s confrontation of Ahab and Jezebel for their injustice and of the contest on Mount Carmel between Adonai and Baal. His ears rang with the words of the prophet, How long will you go limping with two different opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him.

One day, Aaron departed from the house of his father, left Jerusalem, followed the path across the Mount of Olives, and down the Roman road through the Wadi