The Last Letters of Jesus: the Secret of the Nazarenes

By Antonio Sebastian

Palestine in the first century is a melting pot of Hebrew, Greek, Roman, and Oriental thought, a country at war with its own future. The priests and their cult of animal sacrifice effectively run the Judean Kingdom in the south.

Israel in the north is home to Rabbi Yeshua bar Yosef and he is running out of time. After a blockade of the Temple Sacrifices in Jerusalem, he is imprisoned alongside the assassin sent to kill him. Against all odds, his family and friends race to free him.

Rabbi Yeshua is a prophet and a mystic who can see the approaching holocaust. Within the violence of animal sacrifice, he can see the destruction of the Jewish people. He desperately tries to send word to the Sanhedrin but the forces of evil seek to silence his voice forever.

Based on extensive research, the latest archaeology and modern textual interpretation, the Last Letters of Jesus is a work of Historical Fiction which tries to answer truthfully the age-old questions of 'who was Jesus' and 'what did he really say'?

Through the eyes of those who loved him most you can finally unwrap the facts enough to reveal the man behind the myth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Antonio Sebastian
• Release date: Feb 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9780993513435

Antonio Sebastian

Antonio Sebastian has spent all of his life pushing himself to the limit. Coming from a broken home, he attended one of the first comprehensive schools in the UK and left school effectively illiterate. He went on to become a Commercial Diver and travelled the world. Eventually he became a Subsea Inspection Engineer with Technical Authority in Electromagnetics and Ultrasonics.He has run multimillion pound offshore inspection and repair projects worldwide and acted as the Client's Project Representative for several major oil companies.In 1990, he completed a foundation course in Oriental Medicine. He is a qualified Martial Arts and Qigong Instructor. His students included the Guardia Civil in Spain. He was certified as a Spiritual Life Coach and Empathic Therapist in 2004.Antonio has dedicated his life to helping other people achieve their full potential. With a strong background in man-management in high pressure environments he provides a holistic understanding of human motivation and interaction to his clients. He is a qualified diving and climbing instructor and specialised in encouraging his students to fulfil their potential in extreme sports.After ten years of research into first century Jewish history, Antonio released his first historical fiction novel in 2015. In the space of the next two years, he authored three non-fiction books with one becoming an Amazon best seller. He released the sequel to his first historical fiction novel in 2017.He founded the How Do I Fix Me community in 2017, which is dedicated to providing support and guidance to anyone who would like to get more out of life. He is just releasing his first 'Self-Help' book called 'Quantum Mechanics for Your Soul: How To Repair Yourself and Save The World At The Same Time'.Through the How Do I Fix Me support community, Antonio provides one-to-one spiritual life coaching and empathic therapy as well as multimedia training courses. You can attend weekend seminars in the Spanish Mountains from autumn through to spring.

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PROLOGUE

NINTH DAY OF TAMUZ, 3823

Memories of Rabbi Yeshua

Ninth day of Tamuz, 3823

To Marcus Julius Agrippa II, King of Chalcis and Galilee

Your father’s friend, Yosef, sends you greetings.

In these troubled times, we see so much blood and so much suffering justified in the name of God and yet there is only one answer that can save us and its question is this, what is the nature of Evil?

You wouldn’t remember him, you were too young, but my son, Rabbi Yeshua, when he was younger than you are now, he tried to tell me but I wouldn’t listen. Now he’s gone and things are getting worse, much worse.

Most people live their lives in a dream, unaware of the evil around them, until it’s too late. Last year it took another son from me and in the eyes of his killers, I saw the shadow of darkness. The priests say that black is white and white is black and the people blindly follow them into Hell.

There are those who talk about sin, much and often, and use our blindness against us but, in truth, they know nothing. But, Yeshua knew! He tried to make a stand. He wanted us to wake up. He asked for my help. He should’ve been able to ask for his father’s help but I turned my back on him.

I wasn’t there at the beginning but later, when he was in prison, he tried to explain to me in his letters. I wish I’d read them while there was still time! His message could have saved us but ‘the Liar’, now that Ya’akob is dead, takes Yeshua’s name for his own cult. His lies turn the people away from my son’s teachings and soon his words will be lost forever.

For the sake of our people, you should know the truth of my son’s story. I have Yeshua’s letters in front of me as I write, but there is so much more that you need to understand. Hindsight reveals what life obscures and now I can see that the end, in many ways, was the beginning.

Thirty years ago, in the Temple of Solomon, just after dawn, Yeshua came to a crossroads. I suspect he knew that he had chosen the path of death. It wasn’t the first sacrifice of the day, not by anyone’s reckoning and, as it transpired, it wasn’t the last!

THE BEGINNING

14th DAY OF NISSAN, 3793

Thirty years ago - The last Passover

It was early spring but the winter was reluctant to let Judea go. It was the morning of Passover and Rabbi Yeshua bar Yosef could see his breath in the torch light. Despite the bitter cold, sweat ran into his eyes. A year ago, and in the peace of Magdala, a blockade of Herod’s Temple seemed like a good idea but now, with so many lives in his hands, he was not so sure.

It was dawn and he knew that the sun would soon be rising over the Mount of Olives; he was running out of time. The tunnel seemed to go on forever and the rest of his men would be in the Temple courtyard above, waiting on his signal. In almost total darkness, he began to run.

Rabbi Yeshua was thirty-seven years old and had worked with stone all of his life. He was a hand taller than most Romans and still massively strong but if there was a guard at the mouth of the tunnel, he hoped he would be able to silence the man without having to hurt him. He had always hated violence. As he silently climbed the steps toward the early morning light, he kept to the shadows cast by the lip of the surrounding wall. He could hear his men behind him but couldn’t risk taking his eyes from the light. Philippos tapped him on the shoulder to let him know that they were ready. Yeshua took a deep breath and stepped out into the massive Court of the Gentiles. Already crowded, people were hurrying toward the Sanctuary. He was expecting to hear the bark of a challenge but there was only silence. He let out his breath in relief.

His vow was two years old so his hair and beard were long; he was hoping this would be enough to disguise him as just another Nazarite. He pulled his prayer shawl closer about his face as if from the cold. He signalled to Philippos and the others to follow.

Herod the Great had started the renovation and extension of the Temple of Solomon fifty years ago, the ongoing work was one of the constants of life in Jerusalem. The Temple walls shone like gold in the early morning light. The sound of a thousand hushed conversations pushed in upon him, carried around the courtyard like voices over water. In the distance, nearly half a kilometre away, beyond the crowds, Yeshua could see the walls of the Roman Fortress that marked the end of the Temple courtyard. Later in the day, the Temple would hold at least 200,000 people for the main rituals of the Passover. The trumpets announced another sacrifice. They hurried toward the sound.

Philippos was one of his oldest friends. Despite being a Jewish aristocrat, Philippos was tall and blond. As they made their way toward the Inner Courtyard, he attracted some unwanted attention. An old Pharisee, thinking him a Gentile, stopped to stare. As they passed the gates and entered into the Inner Courtyard, they passed a sign, which read,

‘Any Non-Jew passing beyond this sign;

Your death will be on your own head’.

Philippos pulled his prayer shawl over his hair and tried to blend in. The old man turned away shaking his head in disgust.

Yeshua signalled to Shimon. The giant fisherman, built like a bull, cleared a path for them through the crowds. They pushed toward the main altar where priests were already sacrificing screaming animals. Yeshua looked up at the parapet above him to see if his brother Matias had managed to get into position. He could see no sign of his men. Yeshua looked around. He found himself chewing his lip. He took a deep breath to find his calm. He knew they were doing the right thing but what of his men?

The Temple Sanctuary was a marble building nine-storeys high capped in gold. In front of the Sanctuary, there were a series of altars. Their objective was the largest of the altars, the Altar of Burnt Offerings. It stood the height of three men, and it was already soaked in blood. Encircling the Altars of Sacrifice was a walled courtyard. Jewish guards patrolled the battlements of the surrounding walls. It was these guards that his men, led by his younger brother Matias, were hoping to neutralise.

Again, Yeshua found himself chewing his lip. They had a hundred men to control a thousand, timing was everything. The trumpets blared again heralding another sacrifice. Yeshua looked up nervously.

The black robed priest held the knife to the throat of the sacrificial bull, its eyes white with terror. Clouds of incense filled the air but did nothing to hide the smell of blood and faeces. The screams of terrified animals drowned out the incantations of the crowd as they swayed back and forth. The priest probed to find the main artery with his free hand. The bull tried to pull away but other priests were holding its head over the altar.

Yeshua looked up. His brother Matias was waving; the inner courtyard walls were clear of guards. Yeshua gave the signal to Shimon and his men. Each of the huge Temple gates leading to the Inner Courtyard slammed shut. Now they were committed! The expectant crowd, intent on the sacrifice, pressed closer to the main altar. Yeshua had been standing amongst them but now he pushed his way forward.

Now that they were beyond the point of no return, his mind cleared and time seemed to slow. Alone, he ran up the ramp to the top of the Altar of Burnt Offerings. The priest turned from his task and lunged at Yeshua with his knife. Yeshua sidestepped and took the wicked blade from him as if from a child. The priest tried to take it back but tripped on his cloak. In the confusion, the sacrificial bull, sensing his freedom, managed to escape. It ran down the ramp, scattering the crowd.

Yeshua threw the knife to the floor and raised his hand for silence, These sacrifices are an abomination to God. For five hundred years, you have ignored the words of the prophets. This is your last warning! God will not send another!

The people surged toward the gates and the priests ran for the Sanctuary.

We’ve blockaded the gates of the Inner Court, nobody leaves until you’ve heard my words! Yeshua shouted.

The crowd stalled at the gates, they looked back at him, uncertain. The priests were disappearing behind the golden gates of the Sanctuary. This was Yeshua’s last chance to make his point, You have turned a house of prayer into an abattoir, and you eat the demons you create. Yeshua shouted to a stunned audience, The evil you make here will consume our people for eternity.

The people within the court were mostly scribes and priests but here and there, Yeshua could see the embroidered trim and wide collars of the Pharisees. The kings of Judea had fought wars to force Israel to sacrifice in the Temple but looking around, Yeshua could see only Judeans and their blank faces meant they just didn’t understand.

Yeshua stood before the golden Sanctuary on the Altar of Burnt Offerings, zigzag ramps below him led down to the crowd. The marble altar stood over a large cave, which caught the waterfall of innocent blood and allowed it to drain into the Kidron Valley. It was here that cattle had their throats cut and their bodies burnt. The white marble of the altar was stained red with blood. The Sanctuary behind him towered over all, marble capped with gold, proud in its beauty but like the priests, utterly cold and without mercy.

There were smaller altars in the courtyard for goats and birds. During the holidays, people would wait all day to offer the life of an animal to God. This was killing on an industrial scale. Behind the altar, there were four rooms set into the wall. It was in these rooms that the Temple bankers accepted the ritual tax and changed foreign currency. They were still busy doing business, unwilling to leave their money behind or lose their eight percent commission.

Yeshua ran down the ramp and grabbed a bullwhip from one of the Temple animal handlers. He cracked the whip in the direction of the bankers and the noise gave them pause. He shouted to Shimon who pulled the people out of the way. Yeshua overturned the tables scattering the money over the courtyard. Shimon slammed the doors shut. None of the priests thought to argue. So far, their luck had held but they had to keep the initiative. Yeshua looked around, suddenly unsure what to do next. A black robed priest surrounded by his sycophants confronted Yeshua, What is the meaning of this, this blasphemy! Only we speak for God, he shouted.

Yeshua noticed movement out of the side of his vision; his two brothers Matias and Yose had appeared behind him. Matias was fingering the pommel of his sword but Yeshua shook his head. He pulled the priest to one side. You say that you speak for God but you don’t listen to his voice? Yeshua said putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. This is supposed to be a house of prayer! Look around you at the blood on the floor, the stink of shit and the fear in the eyes of the animals.

Dead animals lay around as if struck by a plague; coins lay strewn on the floor.

Who are you to say what God wants? The priest demanded.

Yeshua looked at the man and frowned. No more than you! he pointed up to the bloodstained altar, but this is the work of evil, not the God of Israel!

Yeshua turned to Matias, If the Romans don’t attack, we will hold out as long as we can but we must get to the Mount of Olives by nightfall.

CHAPTER ONE

15th DAY OF NISSAN, 3793

The beginning of the end

The bright April day had given way to a cool clear night and the feeling of invincibility that had filled him all day was melting away like so much salt left out in the rain. As the light failed and the moon, a day from being full, illuminated the Temple, Rabbi Yeshua bar Yosef knew that he was a dead man; something had gone terribly wrong!

Across the valley, he could see the braziers on the Temple walls come alive, one by one; like so many beacon fires signalling his failure to all of Jerusalem. Routine was returning to the Temple as though the day had never happened. Like a beautiful golden serpent coiled ready to strike, the Temple brooded and looked down on Jerusalem as though waiting for the right time to scatter the Jewish people to the wind. He shivered into his Berber coat and wished, not for the first time, that his cousin Yohanan were still here.

He was a big man; at over six feet and lightning fast but he hated discord. Luckily, his natural presence had dissuaded most challenges. He was happy to devote himself to God, preferring to talk rather than fight. As was the Nazarene custom, because of his vow, his hair and beard were long but even his long hair could not hide the depth of his blue eyes, unusual in a Jew and a mark of the line of King David. Since the death of his cousin Yohanan, the Nazarene Yeshiva called Yeshua, ‘Rabbi’ and right now, he wished it wasn’t so.

Today his Yeshiva had tried to make a peaceful gesture to call attention to the horrors of the animal sacrifices. The hope was that the people would stand with them but only his own people from Galilee had joined them on the Mount of Olives. Without the support of the Judeans, their action was pointless. They had not come; he knew that he’d failed!

With thirty-seven years behind him, he was approaching middle age and he felt every one of those years as he pulled himself to his feet. His muscles ached and his throat was sore from so much shouting.

The one hundred that had stormed the Temple had become three hundred by the time they had reached the Mount of Olives, mostly from the Yeshiva in Galilee. Yeshua scanned the darkness below him for signs of the Romans. The gold-capped marble of the Red Heifer Altar shone in the moonlight. It sat like a crown on the summit of the Mount of Olives. A bridge connected the Corinthian Gate of the Temple to the hill, suspended above the Kidron Valley as if by sorcery. That bridge and the road to the summit were designed to maintain the ritual purity of the victim.

Caiaphas, the High Priest, had planned to slit the throat of the Heifer and its lifeblood stain the stone red by the light of the dying sun. The body was to be incinerated and the ash used to ‘purify’ the Temple. Like the eyes of a demon in the night, the red light of the altar would glare down on the Temple and the city of Jerusalem. If nothing else, Caiaphas was a showman.

The Nazarenes were occupying the mountain to stop that abomination from happening.

Philippos was noisily eating an apple given to him by one of the girls who had joined them during the evening, At least we stopped the sacrifices for a day! Smug bastard! That priest!

Yeshua was trying to coax life back into his legs, He was a bit self-important! He laughed.

Philippos was the brother of his wife, Mariamne. He and Philippos had both been disciples of his cousin Rabbi Yohanan and had met at the University of Qumran on the banks of the Dead Sea. Philippos had the easy confidence of an aristocrat, he charmed the world but his charm hid a deeply spiritual nature and he had truly found his calling in the Yeshiva. He had been Yeshua’s right hand since Yohanan was murdered.

Yeshua looked over at his brother, Matias, who was sitting looking into the fire, his sword half hidden by his leg. It had been a gift from their mother’s father, Yoachim.

The old man had always wanted Matias to realise his ambition of being a soldier. ‘It’s not healthy to have too many Rabbis in a family!’ he would often say.

Matias lived his life inwardly and rarely spoke. His dark good looks attracted admiring glances from both sexes but he never seemed to notice. His work as a tax collector took him all over Israel, which suited his solitary nature.

Yeshua sat down next to his brother, Thank you for not using that today. I know how easy it would have been.

Matias continued to gaze into the fire, The night’s not over yet, Rabbi!

But, I did ask you to keep an eye on Yose! Yeshua said gently.

Yose, the youngest brother, was somewhere socialising. To him it was all a big adventure and he was evidently determined to make the most of it.

He’s eighteen, I can’t keep him chained up, Matias said, poking the fire. Yose was the light to Matias’ dark. In a family of Rabbis, Yose showed no interest in anything other than having fun.

If the Romans attacked now, he would be lost! Would you put my mind at rest and find him? Yeshua said and touched his brother on the shoulder in thanks.

Yeshua picked up his bag, Philippos! Get a few of the men; let’s go down to the olive press, maybe Reuben has seen something.

Philippos continued to chew his apple but quickly gathered five of the young men together. The olive press lay in the Garden of Gethsemane, between them and the Temple.

Yeshua turned back to his brother, Matias, you keep an eye on the people. If the soldiers approach from behind, send word to me and take the Yeshiva south. And Matias! No fighting!

Matias smiled to himself.

The hill was alive with small fires as the people of the Nazarene Yeshiva made themselves as comfortable as possible. There was nervous laughter here and there but mostly the people were silent, waiting and watching.

The promise of spring had, like the sun, deserted them. The grass beneath Yeshua’s feet crunched as he walked. Even the wind was holding its breath, waiting to see what the priests would do.

Looking down on the lights of Jerusalem, it looked so sleepy and innocent in the moonlight; like a goat staked out in a field, unaware of the silent approach of the wolf. Yeshua shook his head; he couldn’t live their lives for them. Tomorrow they will have to live with the decisions they make today.

Philippos shouldered his bag and followed Yeshua down the hill. The people had separated into groups of family and friends; each village had its own colours and style of embroidery. A group from Magdala waved to their Rabbi and he detoured toward them. Yeshua made a point of stopping to speak to everyone he passed, he never seemed tired or afraid and the people reached out to their Rabbi for comfort. Yeshua had not slept for two days; only his old friend knew what this effort was costing him.

Most of the people on the hill were from Galilee, which lay several days travel to the north, in the Kingdom of Israel.

The Nazarenes were made up of ordinary lay people from all walks of life who tried to apply the teachings of the Yeshiva to their lives. A few had given up their possessions to study full-time. As well as the normal Jewish food restrictions, there were several different stages of the Nazarene vow. At its extreme, as Yohanan had lived it, a Nazarene avoided contact with all blood, which meant no meat could be eaten. They could not eat anything that had been sacrificed nor strangled. They avoided fermented drink and for a specific time they would not cut their hair or beard. Using the mikvah pool daily, they kept themselves ritually pure. Eventually the most gifted students, owning nothing, would become wandering healers and teachers.

Unlike his cousin Yohanan, Yeshua made no distinction in his teaching, between Jew and Gentile, man or woman. He believed the Torah belonged to the world. There were some of Yohanan’s followers who still fundamentally disagreed with his decision; the list of his enemies grew every day.

He smiled grimly to himself; just like the Prophet Jonah in the belly of the whale, he knew God had a plan for him but he just hoped that he would have the courage to do the right thing when the time came.

The lights of the campfires mirrored the stars in the black sky and as they were engulfed in darkness again, Philippos put his hand on Yeshua’s arm. I have a confession to make brother.

That’s between you and God, Philippos, don’t tell me! There are some things I don’t want to know!

Yeshua smiled as he turned to continue down the hill. Philippos threw what was left of his apple core at his friend’s back.

I brought my sword, it’s in my pack, Philippos blurted as he pointed to his shoulder with his chin. I know you said not to but... well, if it goes bad, Mariamne would never forgive me if I got home and you didn’t.

Yeshua turned to his friend, Pray to God that we won’t need it but remember God holds our lives in his hands, who can say when it will be my time or yours! He made his way down the hill and called over his shoulder, Philippos, my life is not worth the price of your soul! Trust in God!

Philippos shrugged; I do trust in God but I still tie up my camel! he called to Yeshua’s back.

Many armies had tried to destroy the Jewish people but the Nazarenes believed that it was to the shadow of Babylon that the people had given their soul. Many years ago, lesser men had divided King David’s Kingdom into two. They left Israel in the north and created Judea in the south. The Assyrians invaded Israel and took its nobles as slaves. The ten Jewish tribes were scattered; Israel never recovered.

A hundred years later Judea was threatened by the power of Babylon. A city-state dedicated to the Blood God, Marduk, and his Dragon. Josiah, the Judean King, needed a miracle to unite his people and motivate them to war. He had his priest, Hilkiah, create a cult that would help his people rival Babylon. To support this cult, the priest announced that he had ‘found’ the books of Moses during the rebuilding of Solomon’s Temple. The king wanted to unite the two kingdoms so he made it law that all Jews sacrifice to his new God and only at the Temple in Jerusalem. Several wars were fought to force what was left of the northern kingdom to submit to this blood God but many never accepted the cult.

The new books of Moses fundamentally changed the character of the Jewish God. Hilkiah’s stories told of a Babylonian blood God who presided over genocide, sacrifice, plague and the massacre of women and children. To the Galileans, their God was indwelling, unchanging and immanent. They said that the ‘books of Moses’ were forgeries. Judea accused Israel of being heretics and idol worshippers, a childish but effective insult.

So for the last five hundred years the only way to God was through the Temple in Jerusalem. Animal sacrifice paid for the Temple, the priests and most importantly, it now paid the Romans. But, to the Nazarenes, the forged Torah had brought nothing but suffering to the Jewish people. The ultimate sacrifice was the slaughter of the Red Heifer on the Mount of Olives. Today’s blockade of the Inner Court and the occupation of the Mount of Olives had prevented this abomination, for now.

As they approached the buildings that served the olive press, Yeshua was hoping to see the torches carried by the hundreds of followers who had pledged to support their civil disobedience.

The roads were still empty. There was only one road at the base of the Mount of Olives running north to south, which was fed by the two roads from the east side of the city. Above them, the ritual bridge joined the east side of the temple to the Mount of Olives.

Yeshua slowed as they got to the corner of the first building, Philippos’ men fanned out, he signalled them to wait. The olive press serviced the entire mountain, so several buildings were dedicated to storage and production. Rueben, the owner, lived in a two-storey building adjoining the main press. The evening was cold now and very quiet. A slight breeze had begun in the tops of the trees. Yeshua and Philippos made their way to the door of the press and quietly knocked. Reuben was a widower and a good friend to the movement. The door opened and Rueben quickly pulled them inside, You’re a Rabbi and this you couldn’t predict! Reuben hissed.

Predict what? Yeshua said as Philippos frowned and looked around for food. There was a fire in the hearth but food had not yet been cooked. The house looked like a barracks, well cared for and neat. Everything was in its place. A well-oiled long sword hung over the hearth.

Moshe made a delivery just before nightfall and he told me that the tenth legion has soldiers blockading all the gates out of the city. No one is getting out tonight. Reuben said.

Reuben had been a soldier in a Roman legion for most of his life. Originally, from Galilee, he and his wife had bought the olive press for his retirement but she had died not long after moving to Jerusalem. Something in him had died when his wife passed away and he had been looking for a way to join her ever since.

He reverently took his sword down from its place on the wall. Yeshua put a hand on the old man’s shoulder and stepped toward the door, If the High Priest has managed to get the Romans to support him then it is only a matter of time until they send men up here to get us off the Mount; we should go old friend, I don’t want you involved.

Yeshua looked out of the door down towards the east of the city. They’ve successfully divided our forces. I’m guessing they don’t have enough men yet to take the Mount of Olives as well. They will want to surround us in daylight, he said whilst stroking his chin, unless they send a snatch squad!

I can hide you both in my well! I’ll leave the wine out and they won’t look far beyond that, Reuben said, as he handed them both a cup of water.

I can’t leave our people up there to face the soldiers on their own. I have to go! Yeshua said.

Philippos stood next to him with a look of concern on his face, We’re buggered whichever way it goes. What do you want to do?

You stay here with Reuben; keep an eye on the roads. As soon as you see or hear anything come to the altar on top of the hill as fast as you can. I will try to get our people to disperse to the south, they can head north tomorrow without too many problems. He drank the water gratefully. Wait an hour and join me on the hill. Avoid confrontation at all costs.

Yeshua shouldered his pack. He hugged Reuben like a brother, Goodbye old friend. He turned to Philippos; I’ll see you at the top of the hill in an hour. Wait no longer!

As Yeshua stepped outside the cold air hit him, clearing the tiredness from his head. The men fell in behind him. The push up the hill was laborious in the dark. The moon was at its zenith painting the hill and the olive trees blue and black. He kept looking behind him, toward the city, gazing at the road, looking for any sign of the Romans. He hadn’t thought that Caiaphas, the High Priest, would risk going to the Romans for an internal matter. The priests pretend that they hold power and the people, through their belief, make truth of the lie. Belief was the key in Judea.

He was not sure why they all despised the Romans so much! Herod Antipas was a friend of his father. The Herodians and the Romans had spent the last few decades improving his country with aqueducts, buildings, and irrigation. In many ways, the Romans had been a blessing. If only his people could just stop fighting each other.

Near the top now, he looked back but there was still no sign of the Romans.

Near the summit of the mount, they reached the first groups of his people. Listen to me, all of you. I want you to go to Matias and Yose and tell them to disperse our people. We have done all we can. At least tonight, the sacrifice will not be made. Go to the south and head north tomorrow but only in small groups. Go! As quickly as you can!

A young man stood up, But what about you, Rabbi? What will you do? They know your face!

My life is in God’s hands. When I can leave, I will. Go now! All of you.

The people looked shocked; nobody had expected the Romans to blockade the entire city. They quickly gathered their things and disappeared through the trees toward the summit.

Now he was alone. He sat down to watch the road.

He heard a noise behind him, Matias and ten of the men were approaching. They sat down next to him. Matias said nothing.

I thought I told you all to leave! Yeshua said.

Like that was going to happen! Matias said looking toward the city. I sent Yose to look after a group of women from Tiberius. He didn’t complain!

Yeshua laughed.

The hour passed slowly but still no sign of Philippos. Yeshua was starting to get worried.

He stood up, I’d better get down to Philippos! Something must have delayed him!

Matias and the men followed him without a word. They walked quickly down to the Garden of Gethsemane and the olive press.

Yeshua looked at the sky, in an hour the moon will be gone. The night had turned black with menace. As they approached the buildings, Yeshua’s fear made phantoms of the shadows.

He knocked quietly on Reuben’s door. The door opened quickly, Reuben looked relieved when he saw his friend, Did you see Philippos?

Yeshua shook his head.

He went down to the road to watch for the Romans. When I saw lights coming from the city, I thought that he might have come to you directly? Reuben said.

Yeshua looked worried, No! We haven’t seen him.

He turned