Fire of Thorns

By A.R. Koheen

A six-year-old mute girl’s found in the family courtyard one morning as Miriam Salome`, wife of Zebedee the fisherman, rises to fix breakfast. They’ll ‘keep’ her ‘until’ someone claims her. Part of Salome’s secret desire to raise a little girl. Though her innocence we view Jesus` unique ministry on earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Oct 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781973671282

A.R. Koheen

Born, raised, and educated within the cultural flux of the post WWII years at the rise of Secular Humanism in rebellion against the depths of Old World Religious beliefs from the merging societies forming the new American West, A. R. Koheen, now widowed and living in the Inland Empire of Washington State, carries on the traditions of a Tribal Storyteller.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

T hey found her curled up in the straw of the courtyard stable between the two houses, with no sign of how she came to be there. She made no sound in her sleep except to whimper on occasion and she rocked rocked from side to side in a vain attempt at comfort. When Miriam Salome` woke to gather an armload of thorn branches from the storage room to prepare the fire for fresh bread for her husband and sons’ breakfast after a long, cramped night of fishing, the shocking memory forced her eyes awake and her nerves back to the edge that had made sleep difficult tonight. First she hastened to check on the waif they had covered with a woolen blanket last night; rather than attempt to waken and question her. Standing in the chill of false dawn, the matron looked at the high walls and sealed door of the shared compound without seeing any means by which so slight and young a child could have climbed in? But it answered the silent prayer she’d finally given up petitioning Heaven for; a girl she could could fuss over and nurture in a way her two sons, so like their father Zebedee, contemptuously resisted. Holding the oil lamp away from the sleeping girl’s form, huddled so helplessly under the borrowed blanket, Miriam Salome` hesitated and sternly reminded herself she’d have to give up the child as soon as her parents or guardians came in search of her! The self-rebuke stung almost as much as knowing she couldn’t simply keep her, like a stray puppy. She allowed the tremulous sigh to escape her lips; otherwise it would have weakened her into admitting the tears so close to the surface of her unfulfilled longing.

The child’s eyes, wet with tears, fluttered open in shock at Miriam Salome`s gentle touch. The middle-aged matron had only a momentary glimpse of clean, well rounded cheeks and a furtive glance at unremarkable cloth on the four-or five year old’s body when the nameless girl threw herself into the kneeling woman’s arms; refusing to be put away for a better look. Unlike so many of the middle class merchants, she and her next youngest sister Miriam Jacoba had small families, and no girls. Only their youngest sister Miriam, who’d gone to Egypt with her carpenter husband Joseph early in their marriage had both the coveted males and two daughters. Deborah, conceived in Egypt, had inherited a rare beauty and mystery, as if that exotic city had influenced her outward appearance. Ahava, Beloved, the youngest, was a tender as her mother and promised to be a beauty in spirit without her older sister’s passionate moods. Y’shua, Mary’s oldest son, though only in his twenties, was taking on his late father’s responsibilities as the head of house-hold in a manner she could only wish her own sons would emulate. They had their father’s rough and careless manner, preferring volume over content, though it pained her to admit it. She longed for a little girl to cuddle and raise, to teach the things that were so important to her.

‘Of course they couldn’t keep her!’ She warned herself sternly as she stroked the frightened child’s hair until the girl calmed under her maternal touch. She was plump and well-nourished. She must have become frightened and run away from somebody’s boat while visiting in Capernaum. For she knew all the children of the Jewish Quarter and the child was not dressed as she would expect a goyim child to be. Though she didn’t seem able to speak, she clearly understood and responded to the older woman’s soft instructions in Aramaic, however unwilling she was to be sent away from her side for even the briefest errand of necessity. Miriam Salome` felt her age as she forced herself to her feet; pushing away the cold, inquisitive nose of the milch goat tethered near her. Even the plain clothes the child wore seemed Hebrew, and as they entered the still shadowed house, the child still ahead of her, stood on tiptoes to touch her fingertips to touch the dew-dampened doorpost Mezzuzah before entering the house. And this before she had the time to watch her do it?

At least, for a few days even, it came as an answer to a mother’s sorrowful and constant prayer to He Above, Blessed be His Name’, She thought with an odd and sad weariness; as if it was the acceptance of the fact that her womb would remain empty even if Zebedee suddenly replaced his cold obsession with gold and wealth that age and circumstance under the cruel weight if Rome’s iron heel had placed against the youthful and spirit filled man she had tremblingly married so many decades ago in her virginity. And because her youngest was too old now, having stood at the Bema at the front of the little shul on the hill, to enjoy being fussed over by his mother in the presence of his scowling father or older brother, she took in the child over her husband’s loud objections; who, like his sons, recognized the wealth of daily comfort arose from silent and uncomplaining diligence to their needs.

The Child who was obviously bright and even helpful, despite the apparent inability to speak, and sometime because of it, became a part of the daily fabric of their lives, to Miriam Salome’s great joy and Zebedee’s lengthening silences. It pleased the young thing to be of help and she was full of smiles when there were only women near. And so, full d unanswered questions, she became a part of Zebedee the Fisherman’s household. When the argumentative, old master of the domain saw how much it pleased his wife he began to allow himself the unexpected pleasure of the child’s keen interest in all things that mattered to him. Her favorite thing to do, after the lengthy, and to a child’s mind boring Service in the narrow, roofed building at the top of the hill, was to find the other little girl near her age who was her playmate for the day until the setting of the sun took away the Queen of the Sabbath and began the first day of the week.

Because Leila was a semi-invalid and the only child of a rich man, the other children within their Community were too awed by her father’s position and his necessary alliance with the dominant Roman culture, including the Righteous Gentile Xavier Quintus Marcus, who built and helped to maintain their synagogue out of his rich Jewish wife’s estates. They quickly grew bored with the sedimentary lifestyle of the frail seven-year-old. But not so the child who was at least one or two years younger. It was Jarius’ daughter who named her ‘Anha’ after her favorite doll, and by now Anha had become her name, because it pleased the Child. Jarius, as Lay leader of the prosperous Capernaum synagogue dealt with the ‘real’ Romans in town, as well as the retired proselyte whose generosity freed them to maintain their widows and do those things which pleased the LORD GOD of Israel, Blessed be His name, and no one was rude enough to publicly take notice of the formidable Shelomith bat Elnaam’s blind daughter, however much they much privately cluck their tongues at ‘sin’ and ‘dalliance with the enemy’. Shelomith had brought a Jewish son and a daughter away from ‘Italia’, and Xavier was kind and generous to a fault when he put aside his Roman armor to walk among them, but no one dared to pretend they were a true friend to Jarius’ only child. Since she bore the same stigma of being ‘under the shadow of sin’ she lacked the means to matter in their daily lives. Slowly, even Zebedee fell under the spell of the ever cheerful Child and she became one with the ‘mother’ she instinctively turned too.

When Young John or his mother came to get her at sunset, gracefully sharing the endearing ritual of passing around the delicate and richly scented Spice Box that the lingering fragrance of the disappearing Sabbath might linger with them a little longer, the two girls would cry and cling together in goodbye. Yet when Jarius benevolently attempted to explain that she was welcomed to stay all week, the childish eyes grew wide and filled with fears. And she’d clung to Miriam Salome’s leg like a much younger child. Since they could find no way to reassure her or assuage her fear at losing the only mother she knew, they eventually gave up and cheerfully accepted the girls’ friendship as easily as they did. The Child would spread her cloak by the fire and she and Leila would play together quietly all afternoon; although Leila’s voice was the only one ever heard, defining and ordering their play, to her younger friend’s delight. Sharing her dolls and her toys as easily as if the dark haired girl were a natural extension of her father’s household. Assuaging Zebedee’s concern about clothing ‘a useless female’. Since Leila’s frequent illnesses left her out grown clothes like new by the time they were bundled for Anha to take home. On days when Leila’s unexplained fevers brought listlessness, she was obviously entertained by the child who found silent playtime while her friend dozed and built back her strength. Even on days when her mother fretted because she couldn’t get the overheated girl to eat, her smaller friend could calm her, patiently spooning in mouthfuls of broth and bits of lamb or lentils as though she were feeding a life-sized doll and Leila would lie back on her bed, obviously relieved at the girl’s unswerving friendship and adult compassion.

Five years later, soon after Leila’s eleventh birthday, made the first marked change in their status, from childhood to the age of accountability, their lives tool on a dramatic shift with the quiet entrance of a young man from further south Galilee, from the hill town of Nazareth. Long ago it had the glorious distinction of being home to priests retired from service in the Holy Temple in Jerusalem of Judea; but the bloom of its fame had long since vanished, like the great plain and mountains visible from the top of Nazareth’s hill where so much of Israel’s past as a kingdom had been acted out in blood, glory and defeat. Miriam Salome`s nephew, the eldest son of his widowed mother, the young carpenter attended the weekly Services and was asked, as a courtesy to speak to the assembled piety, as the rabbi was old, and his son, as a true scholar, bored the congregation to tears with his lengthy dissertations of minute points of Mosaic Law only enjoyed by those Holy Men of Jerusalem he longed, unfulfillingly, to join.

Even the Roman Xavier was impressed with the humble young man as his words brought alive the weekly text which allowed the Congregation to read though the entire body of Sacred exhortation and worship over the months. But Xavier was careful his hide his true feelings to better pretend he was as much alike to their thoughts, under his wife’s wary gaze. As the overly-warm building began to empty, a light rain began to shift down from the gloom that held the great lake to a sullen, gray mask flecked with distant whitecaps. Anha liked the tall youth’s quiet smile in her direction. Most men ignored her pointedly though she was too young to be a threat to them. But when Miriam Salome` tensed and instinctively pulled her behind her at the approach of the older man and his battle-scarred son who couldn’t hide his past as a Roman soldier as easily, the girl tensed unhappily, wanting to run away and hide without Lelia here as her shield.

Strong, calloused fingers took her cliched hand. She startled violently. It was ‘Suha, her mother’s sister’s oldest son. Her eyes turned to look up at him in questioning but all she saw of him was his profile as He made no attempt to draw attention to them. A shocking sense of recognition and release swept through her, as if she had just been immersed in a Mikvah of molten metal, and a peace flooded her entire being. As if it had a right to be there? She sighed out her instinctive fear but Miriam Salome`s hand still clung to hers; as if she feared the Romans in everyday garb had come to steal her away. She looked up in question at the slender, bearded face and the Carpenter from Nazareth smiled at her, as if just for her to see. She responded visibly.

For a moment it looked like the younger Roman was going to use the innate assumption of authority to break into their conversation with Jarius, but at the same moment the overpowering stench of strong liniment and rot filled the area just to the side of the sole entrance to the roofed building and he broke free of all of them. Taking the pervasive, powerful odor outside with his gruff escape. Followed outside by the older Roman Xavier, after a brief word of communication with the youthful Nazarene before following suit. Quickly swallowed by the falling rain.

As ‘Shua ben Joseph turned to watch their abrupt departure with a sad expression lingering on his face, Anha had the opportunity to study the plain, pleasant face in silent absorption. There was no beauty to the common features; no gesture or pose to draw attention to himself as firstborn in the manner in which she had become accustomed in the quarrels between James and John. Yet there was an innate intensity, a clarity of thought and movement that was compelling even in the eyes of a child such as she. Then his face changed, altered abruptly, as if he were listening to a Voice only he could hear; and Anha feared He’d let go of her hand and follow after the two unhappy Romans? To her relief her cousin politely declined Jarius’ offer of hospitality, and as he followed his aunt and uncle-in-law back to their house, he scooped her into His arms and carried her close to his heart. She laid her frail arm across his shoulders to help steady herself and she desperately hoped to stick her thumb in her mouth for further reassurance, but she was too aware of Zebedee’s strong changes in mood; so she simply leaned her forehead against ‘Shua’s head and reveled in the sense of movement which required nothing. As soon as they reached the outer courtyard the tall, well-mannered man put her down with a slight, throaty laugh and aimed a gentle swat at her nimble bottom, hastening her on her way to answer Miriam Salome’s call. There was much to do to serve the prepared food before she could find a seat out of the misting rain, ‘And a day’s respite from work which would wait until tomorrow’ She told herself wearily. Closing her eyes, Miriam Salome` drifted to sleep as James and John fought to be the one to challenge their cousin’s knowledge of the Holy Words.

No one knew that Little John would sneak away, again. Not until Zebedee rose in the dark, awake from long years of routine to eat and walk down to the shore where his hired men would be waiting for them. The uproar woke the entire house-hold, even their guest from Nazareth, and Anha hid in the storeroom until the sounds of angry voices faded away. There was still much silence and unhappiness by the time Miriam Salome` kissed her eldest nephew goodbye on the cheek and watched Him disappear into the first of the week crowds gathering for the farmer’s market to open. As she busied herself with setting out the dried fish the Romans exchanged for fresh, available only to Roman palates as Maters of the World, Anha hung back uncharacteristically; watching the broad shoulders disappear around a corner.

She sighed deeply and felt her mopth3r’s calloused hand rest against her bare calf in silent empathy as she settled herself for the day’s haggling.

I know he’s a remarkable young man. She said in a strangely sad voice Anha didn’t pretend to understand. Then Miriam Salome` cleared her throat. You’d best get home and cook. Don’t let anything burn; you know the Father is already in a bad mood! She warned.

"Yes, E’ma. " Anha agreed in her mind, although the words never left her mouth.

While they sleep you can come back here and keep me company, Child Miriam Salome` suggested, her eye filling with tears she didn’t attempt to explain.

Anha didn’t begin to know what question to ask to get her mother to share the silent burden that she was clearly keeping in her heart. The ‘language’ they shared lacked the subtly for that. Giving the older woman an impulsive hug, she fled through the thickening crowd on quiet, happy feet. A song in her heart that she remembered hearing in her dreams; even if she couldn’t remember the words.

Miriam Salome` paused, leaving her full weight against the withers of the weary, little, gray donkey. The tired beast shifted her weight to the other foot in silent rejection of the unfair burden. But Miriam Salome` was too exhausted by their long journey south to the Jordan to move away. The view at the bottom of the cliff bluff was breathtaking; history in the making! Dots of people moved in groups between the established camps on wither side of the high running stream or moved in wavy procession towards the place where John the prophet was preaching while his disciples baptized in the swirling muddy waters of the spring run-off. She understood the call to something higher that caused her younger son to break his solemn promise to his father, even if Zebedee and James didn’t. The need to connect with the Great Unseen that the Prophet, their cousin, required of all.

‘But for her,’ she decided sadly, ‘it was too late.’

"Auntie Salome`!Auntie Salome`" A clear, loud voice voice called as a young Hebrew man detached himself from from one of the crowds on their of the river. Running along the steep side of the cliff bluff overhang like a mountain goat kid. He had her in his arms before the older woman could recognize him; his bared legs damp from his chores as one of John’s disciples helping in the total immersion in the fast flowing waters of the Jordan River.

Little John didn’t tell us to expect you or we would have already have a tent set up for you and Anha! He pulled back and examined her face much too closely for her pleasure. You look tired. I’ll fix up a place for you near our tent and then I’ll tell your son that you are here, dear one.

As he saw the confusion on her face, he took a step away from her respectfully and his tone became more formal; as befitted his age and stature as a new father.

Thank you, … She stuttered.

Noah. He answered with an impish grin.

Noah? Her voice reached a high pitch of shock that took Anha by surprise. Before she knew what to do with her amazement, the young man broke free of her continued exclamations and hand claps and he seized her around the wait and swung her around in circles until she was dizzy.

You must be Little Anha? I’ve heard so much about you. Come, Auntie! He spoke took up the fallen lead of the little animal and offered his arm to help the older woman down the steep and uncertain terrain. Anha kept batting her eyelashes in shock. For a man and a woman to touch in public was simply to shocking to accept.

‘Had she stepped into another world?’ She questioned with feverish anxiety, feeling the young man’s joy and the beauty of the crowded river river valley overcome her natural tendency to keep to herself.

And your dear mother? Miriam Salome’s voice betrayed her extra weakness as Anha fell in step behind her, grateful that the loose shale and gravel had given way to loam and fresh, spring grass. The little donkey attempted to stop and pull up mouthfuls, but Noah, once a shepherd like his father Hilkiah had been in his youth, knew to hold the halter upright; where the head went the body had to follow. However unwillingly.

"She’s well. At home in Nazareth with Deborah and the rest of his family. We’ll meet up again in time for cousin Joshua’s wedding in Cana, come Abib. But I can get her a message if it’s something important?"

Miriam Salome` paled and stopped short to catch her breath against the pain at her side as her breath came out in great, labored gasps. The hungry little donkey pulled back on the halter until she freed her head and immediately stopped to pull at the thick, new grass this far from the trampled borders of the muddied banks below.

I need to sit and catch my breath! Miriam Salome` gasped, her face flushed a bright red.

I’ll go get you some water and tell father you’re here. He’ll be delighted. The bearded young man promised, as if indeed he were as excited as he sounded. Don’t go away! He warned eagerly before running away.

Miriam Salome` cast him a profoundly disapproving look as he ran down the hill without waiting for her reply.

I couldn’t move of my life depended on it! She said crossly under her breath and then she forced a smile and held out her arms to the frightened child.

Anha threw herself at the beloved form and squeezed her eyes shut. ‘If she couldn’t see them…the innumerable masses of people clumped on either side of the majestically widened river couldn’t overwhelm her.’ She longed mightily for the shade of the trees on either side of the river as the heat of amble woman beside her seemed almost more than she could bear.

A Voice deep inside called the name she almost remembered and she calmed at it’s comforting sound. ‘Fear not. I have called you by your name. You are Mine!’ It assured her with more certainty than if her ears had heard it spoken. She nodded and burrowed herself deeper into the dust smelling folds of the older woman’s cloak as Miriam Salome` began to hum a lullaby under her breath and rocked to-and-fro to comfort them both as they waited.

Miriam Salome` gave a nervous gesture and sound of reproach once the familiar young man approached, looking over her shoulder anxiously at the older carpenter he so closely resembled, and her concern for Anha put fresh angst rise at their manner of walking up the hill so determinedly. It was only when the older carpenter, resting his weight on one knee against the pull of the incline as he allowed the older woman to make peace with his offer of assistance, that Hilkiah ben Jezreel walk forward and actually lay hands on Miriam Salome`; who gave a long and profound sigh of relief.

Offering his clothed arm, while speaking to the child beside her in a kind, fatherly tone of voice, Hilkiah and his twenty-one-year old son linked hands so Miriam Salome` could sit, laying her arms across the back of their necks for support. Giggling a little at her feeling of foolishness being suspended in air as they proceeded to walk down the mountainside in locked step. As soon as Anha realized from their comfortable talk with one another that they were the close family of ‘Shua, the remarkable young rabbi from Nazareth, there was no place left for her fear, until they reached the narrow and raised place at the river where they waded across to their campsite, seeming to forget about her and the heavily laden donkey?

The patient gray breast wisely drank no more than she needed then raised her head and watched the slow passage of her mistress along the other bank; the drops of freshly melted snow dangling from her slender, muzzle whiskers like trembling gemstones. Suddenly her whole body shook with the force of her anxious calls. Her long ears pitched forward to catch every sound of the river; the smooth stones clanking against one another in the shallow passage of the melted snow, then abruptly, she charged across the icy challenge, placing each foot delicately into the green-brown flow as if they were raw eggs. Pulling the startled girl alongside. They were across the shallow fording before Anha could catch her breath.

"Here, Girl, come!" Miriam Salome` called over her shoulder in encouragement, still seated in the ‘saddle’ of the men’s arms, though Anha had accepted her commendation and concern naturally included her. Though she hung back at the edges of the cheerfully loyal, male convocation when a subtle shift of the air at the river’s edge brought a strong odor of corrupted flesh. Making her wince and take a step away before she looked over her shoulder to identify its source. She immediately recognized the scarred soldier from Capernaum, even though he was thinner now and almost bloodless; clearly in greater pain. She waited to hold her nose against the rank stink rising from the soiled leather and sheepskin bound against the stumps of his feet but she couldn’t help herself. It took only a second to realize he was attempting to pull down a goatskin of water. His lips were dry and chapped, his breath coming in hard, sharp gaps. She could see the futile tautness of his muscular, scarred legs beneath his centurion’s uniform where the corded muscles trembled violently as he gave up and fell back, cursing softly in an unfamiliar language. As if it were happening in front of her her at this very moment, she remembered how the young carpenter from Nazareth had watched this man angrily leave the enclosed space of the Capernaum synagogue.

Anha knew what she wanted to do. Glancing over her shoulder, she felt she’d been forgotten temporarily of mother and son, so she turned her back on her immediate family group and looked around to see what she could do for the soldier who was clearly so alone. She wasn’t tall enough to get the wineskin down from the tent peg, even if she stood on tiptoe, and there was nothing she could see that she could stand on? Seeing the metal cup near his hand, she silently walked over and picked it up. He was laying on his back on a rounded stone; only the upper portion of his body c0vered by the shade of the military style canvas stretched over his head. The Roman’s hobbled mare, now visible as she raised her head from a quiet cropping of fresh grass, pricked her ears forward in interest; but all she did was stamp her hoof to dislodge a biting fly and rush her muzzle toward the spot, leaving a damp grass stain on her satiny hide. Before her head dropped again tot he lure of the lush fresh grass growing up from the river’s edge amidst the dried reeds and stones.

The man’s eyes were closed and tears were slowly leaking down his unshaven cheeks. She felt as well as saw his loneliness. He was dying and those around him pretended not to see because he had aligned himself as a soldier of Rome. She must have made a slight noise that she didn’t hear because as she picked up the metal cup and started to turn away from him she saw his eyes suddenly jerk open. She didn’t understand the words he used as she backed away, but she heard and and understood the anger in his voice as he shouted and threw small stones at her retreating back.

Couldn’t you wait until I’m dead on the morrow to steal what little I do have? He shouted in pain filled Aramaic.

She quickened her pace, in fear and frustration and broke through the taunt weed stems that stretched untouched on this portion of the edge of the riverbank near his encampment until she found a small basin near enough to the current to keep it free of twigs and small leaves. Three tiny fish, newly hatched, momentarily distracted her with their beauty. Then she rinsed out the cup and filled it to the uttermost brim as she lost all sensation in her feet; sure that she would spill some of it on her way back. His face went blank as she approached with the filled cup, shivering as much from excitement as she was the cold. He had rolled on one hip, facing her and the river, and his out-stretched hand was pale, quivering, bearing more weight that he could comfortably endure.

Thank you…I’m sorry. His lips mimed and she nodded her understanding.

He sat up with difficulty and looked as though he would drink the entire cup dry before he winced and pulled it away from his lips by sheer force of will. Setting it to one side and as he stared at her with uncomfortable candor. Till his slow spreading smile invited her to hunker down nearby, just outside of his reach. She was startled by a shadow from over her head and she smelled the odors of the carpenter who had greeted them and taken her mother away.

I’m sorry she troubled you, Excellency.

The soldier seemed familiar with him, for his smile deepened until it reached his eyes, but because she was looking over her head at the tall man outlined by the sun, she all but forgot the soldier laying so near. Only the stench of rot showed his place at the edge of her thoughts as her heart began to pound loudly in fear she was about to be punished!

"She’s not a bother, Kiah. The soldier answered at last. Is she one of yours?"

While she’s visiting yes; in a manner of speaking. Hilkiah agreed, motioning for her to follow him.

Anha nodded and stood up. Suddenly needing to be near Miriam Salome` in this strange place.

I have a little girl, just a little older than her. The Roman said, causing the large, burly man to hesitate. Then he sank back against the rounded stone as if the last of his strength had fled him. Hilkiah took note and reached over easily to loosen the heavy skin from its peg, and laying it beside the man. Machba`nel rested with his arm over his eyes, breathing stentoriously. I wish I could have seen them.

Recognizing that she was walking uphill alone, Anha paused uncertainty and realized they were sharing thoughts, as she longed to be able to do. Instinctively she returned to the ma’s side, feeling that she could trust him. Slipping behind his shadow and placing hr hand within his. It was rough and calloused and the warmth of his fingers in response, even though he didn’t look away from the prone man to acknowledge her, somehow made her feel more comfortable around both of them.

I would have liked to have said a final goodbye to them… and to their mother. The pain on his face increased, and Anha reached out to him, her small heart about to break as she read his regret. Without thinking, the soldier moved with an effort and made room for her to nestle in the partial shade beside him. She was so tired she instantly went to sleep with her head on his chest.

Would you like me to change the bandages now, Excellency?

Why bother? The Roman in him demanded, squelching the brief respite memories of his youth had attempted to rise. Childhood images of being a child this girls age and having to endure the bullying and mockery of the middle aged sons his mother’s first husband raced back at him, simply overwhelming the brief, tender memories of caring for his blind sister and finding friends among the workers in the vineyard who hated them all as deeply as he did. He had lived as a Roman for the last twenty-three years, he’d die like one! Victorious and proud! Hiding the pain and humiliation of having to use the carved and padded sticks the older carpenter had provided for him while he was still active enough to face dragging both rotting stumps along with his daily needs.

Only now did he see and smell the covered bowl in the man’s work roughened hands and he blushed, wishing he could simply command the kindness to end. Eating simply prolonged the agony for another useless day, but the smells rising with the odors of damp hide made his mouth water and to cover his confusion, he reached over the sleeping child and drained the last of the water she’d impulsively brought to him. Wordless with gratitude as Hilkiah set the bowl near him and refilled the cup, laying the short haired container near enough for him to reach it without having to try and stand. Such compassion and intuitiveness made him empty, weak, but it answered a need as deep as his sold. Even while he pretended to be on control, his inner being was hesitantly sending up snippets of prayer and gratitude to Tyra’s stern GOD of his youth. The Judge he would face with such inevitability before the new moon was here. It reawakened the painful reality of his humanity and ultimate extinction. Before he could object, the old man had pulled his heavy leather pouch from his shoulder and was kneeling, cutting away the soiled strips and old sheepskin, allowing the putrid smell to arise so strongly it wrenched his stomach, but for the child’s sake he remained still, and silent.

Emptying the remainder of the goatskin, and pouring a fine stream of oil mixed with myrrh, the gnarled hands moved with remarkable tenderness, rebinding the reddened heels and the purple, petrifying flesh handing at his ankles. Machba`nel closed his eyes and allowed him the luxury of gratitude at the easing of the pain while the old man stood with an effort, holding the deeply indented and dried pads by his fingertips. Using a small spade at the edge of the camp to cover over their smell, before walking to the stream and washing his hands, pulling the goatskin from his shoulder to empty and refill it. Tears filled the Centurion’s eyes against his will, and he found himself dozing, only partially aware of his surroundings as a light cover was laid over him and the sleeping child. In the haze of the last of Evi the Jebusite physician’s foul tasting medicine, he found he could pretend the weight against his chest was his younger sister Claudia, and that they were in the hills behind their parent’s vineyard where no one could find them and torment her for ‘her sin’ in being born blind, nor mock him because he was a twig beside his four older brothers. Not even their father, who was deeply ashamed of them, having married Shelomith only to possess the extensive holdings left behind by the unexpected death of her first husband; and for a moment or two at least, he could forget his own annihilation and ultimate defeat. He hadn’t done ANY of the things he’d dreamed about doing at the age of the boy he momentarily felt himself to be. An unseen shadow covered them as the younger carpenter from Nazareth picked up the sleeping girl and tenderly carried her away, with Hilkiah respectfully at His side, as he had been since the King’s birth in his father Jezreel’s lambing cave thirty years before. ‘Give me the eyes to see as a child.’ Hilkiah prayed silently. then a strong hand laid itself on his shoulder, strengthening him, as ‘Shua ben Joseph crouched wordlessly beside him. Hilkiah looked up with a tired sigh, grateful that he didn’t have to speak over the weariness gripping him, body and soul.

End Chapter 1

CHAPTER TWO

A s a boy of newly thirteen, Hilkiah left his father’s house with the vow to remain by the newborn King’s side until He took his rightful throne in Jerusalem. There was no mistaking the subtle changes since He’d oiled and put up his father’s tools in the carpenter shop at Nazareth for the last time, but Hilkiah tried to hide his sudden wish that he’d been able to stay at home with his wife and family. He was old now, and his body ached in ways unguessed to the sprinting youth who’d kept his father’s flock of prize sheep destined for sacrifice in the Temple on Mount Moira. Yet the youth’s smile warmed him and seemed to ease the strain on his sinew and bones. Soon, he could return to his aged step-mother and sole surviving brother in Bethlehem; to live in peace under King Jesus’ rule.

Without waking either, Y’shua laid his work calloused palm against the dying soldier’s forehead then closed His eyes momentarily in silent prayer. Machba`nel’s body gave an odd lurch, then he sighed deeply and rolled on his side; falling profoundly to sleep, beyond the reach of pain, Then lifting the sleeping child as though she had no weight and began to lead Hilkiah away side-by-side.

Fear not, Kiah. Mysteries to the mind of Man are the ways of the Most High. Mary’s Firstborn encouraged him in a soft whisper lightly carried on the breeze welling up from the river as the sun declined,. For He Who Is Above All, knows things from the beginning to the end …but each man has his own choice to make, my dear one. You cannot make it for him, as good as your heart is toward hurt things.

Blessed be His Name. The older carpenter agreed reverently in a low voice. But as he looked back at the dying man he wished with all his heart that he had the power to take away the inevitable agony of death. Shua? He questioned, implying Master, as though he were still speaking to His father, Joseph.

Yes, Kiah?

The word spoken near his ear seemed to know already the half formed thought turning to stone in his belly. Why can’t we? End this agony? Is it right to allow a good man to endure such needless pain? As he’d slain many an injured or fatally sick lamb while still in his father’s house. Tears trickled down his cheeks and wet his beard as the younger man paused with His hand on his shoulder in wordless comfort which the old carpenter absorbed into the depth of the void gathering in him. Whatever the cruelty and choices the Roman spoke about of his youth at thirteen, escaping from his parent’s vineyard in Compamia, he had still been born and reared as a Jew in his early youth and his return at death’s door to simply hear the voice of the prophet seemed an unnecessarily cruel ending to the compassionate old man. The stone in his gut knotted and grew heavier at the forbidden thought but he clung to it doggedly, expecting to see the same revulsion and rejection on the face of the deeply religiously youth standing beside him as they paused, far from the edges of the crowd who’d risen early to see and hear John preach for the day from the river’s edge.

But Y’shua ben Joseph remained slightly ahead of him as they recrossed the turgid green-brown waters flowing over the lump of earth at the edge of the other side of the abundant stream. Seeking a break in the thick patch of reeds to come ashore to where the bulk of the people were gathered around their tents as the day closed out by the large hills blocking the retreating sunlight.

Walking side by side toward the smells of night fires and cooking meat, Hilkiah found himself waiting respectfully for the younger man to speak the words that knotted His brow. The sleeping child but a slight weight in the younger man’s arms. They could clearly hear John’s voice calling out loudly, Repent and be baptized! For the Kingdom of GOD is at hand!

Watching the slender carpenter disappear over the ridge on the well worn path leading out to the stony wilderness, the child’s attention was drawn by a bent old man man guiding an overloaded ox cart who seemed intent on reaching them; as if there weren’t enough nearer to where the tents were perched, out of the wind? Then their host, the older carpenter from Nazareth emerged from the low slung tent, followed quickly by a young boy who seemed to have no control over his lower jaw, so that it hung open blankly in surprise and denial. Two familiar voices rang out across the thickening scents of wood smoke as the people who had camped along the river woke to their morning routines under the threat of another variable day near spring on the edge of the great wilderness.

"Abba! Abba! Noah, my husband, see. He is well? " Little Jerusha’s voice called happily. She thrust the sleeping infant into the arms of the older woman seated on the plank supporting the driver and his passengers and leapt down toward the bony rumps of the two bullocks pulling the cart before they even had time to respond to the pull on their horns and stop, with much head shaking.

Why shouldn’t he be, Woman? Demanded the young husband discourteously, seeing the familiar, taunting smile of Joseph’s middle son Simon as he leaped from the back of the heavy cart.

Noah’s aged mother Judith tried to hide her stiffness and her relief as she made her way to the tear stained man with arms held open to her despite the ‘publicness’ of the display.

We brought you food, old man. And fresh clothing. She said gruffly to hide her own tears, striking him on the arm as he apologized playfully, then shocked her by pulling her nearer, as though he could press her into the fabric of his being.

I’m so glad you’re here, my Beloved. He whispered against her dust smelling head cloth and twisted sideways to kiss her cheek before she could object and pull away.

Simon slipped away, running as fast as he could when he thought no one was watching, embracing the slender girl who waited impatiently by the thick stand of river fed trees. Kissing him passionately without regard for his reputation, or thought to how it might attract attention; almost as though a secret love for drama was born in her to take the place of a mother’s attention early in life.

Elisheba. He warned the murdered zealot’s daughter huskily, but the scent of preparedness rising up from her heated young body silenced his tongue and his better sense and they were joined before their bodies tumbled to the damp ground. His need and his fear and his jealousy pouring out of him with his seed. While she smiled a cat-like smile, pressing his head against her neck where he couldn’t see. Knowing that another watched from the bushes, who would now regret not obeying her orders, or her invitation with sufficient speed to suit her mercurial needs

The ox driver was grateful for their help as they lead the two wearied brutes to the small sloping hill of brown and yellowed grass where they could drink their fill from an amphora sized hole bubbling up from the ground that refilled as quickly as it was drained, and there, rest with no thought of the return drive as their owner was required to do. Once unyoked they were content to remain. With a quick, vague promise as thank you, he rushed off to speak with three of the Baptists disciples clustered near a small smoking fire pit, heating up stones to bake their flat bread.

Watching their young couple and the feeding infant discretely without drawing the young parent’s attention, Hilkiah found the years fled away from him with alarming speed. Noah was he, and little Jerusha was a softer voiced Judith. Then Judith caught his attention with a deep, introspective sigh quite unlike her and he looked down to the beloved face, grateful it had aged as much as he suddenly felt.

Mary wonders if he will return for the marriage supper of their cousins Joshua and Bernice in Cana at next month’s New Moon? Did he give any indication of when he expected to return?

None. Nor did I dare to question…He had that look…

Words failed him, but Judith merely pressed the cold of her fingers against his arm. She changed the subject and Hilkiah never guessed he was being led away so adroitly from a sadness a mother’s heart knew too well to burden another with it needlessly.

In the end, it would another month and sixteen days before Jesus returned to them without warning, as yet another dusty pilgrim on his way to the River Jordan to seek the prophet John, His face bland yet calming with the newness of the restored intimacy with The Great Unseen. Simon remained absent from camp the entire visit, but since his mother had remained in Nazareth with his sisters and brothers, Judith chose to ignore his rude behavior. Hilkiah was almost grateful that his son Noah, too restless to stay in one place for an unknown amount of time, pressed to continue to Jericho to wait in Bethlehem with his Dod Asa until their arrival in Abib, on their way to Jerusalem for Passover. That Simon agreed, even urged on the older youth with whim he usually competed, surprised all of them, but Judith was determined to go to Nazareth first, so she accompanied the bullock owner, who had quickly sold out all his goods to the pilgrims who hadn’t taken thought for what they would eat or wear so far from a city.

The broken silences of the night that Anha could feel through the thin cloths woke her and she startled violently to see a dark shape where