Chapter 1

 

 

    Fine sand filled the old man’s mouth and caused his eyes to squint in order to see his sandals on the path. The harsh taste on his tongue was not the taste of local sand which occasionally blew across the countryside leaving table tops soiled enough to write verse on, but of the fine sand blown from the east, far from the borders of Palestine and the small village of Cana in Galilee.

  As he limped his way down the path to the carved out cavern at the end of the garden, Caleb stopped and spat grains from his tongue and pulled his cloak over his head to protect his eyes. He watched as the darkness moved over the village, reminding him of another day many years earlier when a twin of this storm had darkened the sky over the holy city of Jerusalem. But it wasn’t only the storm he recalled.

   The taste in his mouth brought back mournful memories of a day forty years past. A day he thought about many times and many times put out of his mind before tears blurred his sight. After passing through the opening of a cave used as a stable, he turned and again gazed out across the horizon–at least where he thought the horizon should be. The sun had been so obscured by the storm that the landscape blurred into a field of dark gray, no shadows and no sound but the wind.

  One animal stood in the dimness of the cave, and Caleb felt his way along the wall to where the large donkey stood tethered. The beast jerked its head as the coarse, weathered hand touched him on the flank but soon calmed down when the familiar voice softly spoke.

  “Be at peace old friend and rest well tonight. Tomorrow we’ll make one more trip together, and I need you to be strong. Are you hungry?”

  The creature seemed to understand the tone of voice, but it also knew a treat would soon follow.  The old man limped his way to a large cypress wood box in the back of the alcove. His hand reached out and searched in the dimness until it touched the lid of the box. He opened it and felt around until he found a flat clay bowl with which he scooped a mound of oats from the bottom of the box being careful not to fill the vessel too full. The donkey could smell the treat and snorted impatiently in its eagerness.

  The quick moving sandstorm faded over the village as the sky changed from a brown to a bluish grey. Caleb held the bowl for the busy mouth as the light slowly came back into the cave filtered through flakes of floating dust. Deep in thought he stared out onto the day’s second coming of the sun while his mind flowed with images of his youth and days filled with astounding experiences that even now he didn’t understand.

  Light filled the grotto and the old man could see the large flat stone near the back wall where it lay. Almost entirely covered by hay and dust not revealing its true purpose, the stone rose up like a small plateau on a flattened meadow. He reassuringly rubbed the palm of his hand on the rear of the donkey as he moved around it then shuffled over to the stone and lifted one end up against the stable wall. Beneath the rock was a deep hole which had secretly secured its contents for decades. He reached in and pulled out a rolled up, canvas satchel the length of his forearm then moved closer to the light of the late day sun. A sense of pride and accomplishment filled him as he turned the bag over and over looking for signs of damage on the surface. The tree sap, bee’s wax and soot that were smeared on the outside and the wax coating on the inside kept the canvas from being destroyed by moisture and insects. Caleb knew the contents were safe, but he couldn’t resist the temptation. He untied the leather cord wrapped around the middle that held tight the thick bag. He unrolled the top until the opening lay in the palm of his hand, and with a gentle search of the contents a small smile moved across his wrinkled, white-bearded face.

 

Excerpts from the book

   The sun had slipped behind the Galilean highlands and the shadows quickly faded with the dusk. Birds that preyed on late day insects returned to their nests and bats replaced them as if to fill the position of night watch. Against the twilight horizon, both were soaring silhouettes distinguished only by the sharp erratic movement of the bats as they suddenly switched course in a lunge for a small winged morsel. The constant sound of insects became a background melody unnoticed by the ear while farther down in the valley the sounds of the night prowlers increasingly filled the darkening wilderness with howls and screeches.

  The travelers moved to the sleeping mats to await the dawn. The old man felt uneasy about closing his eyes. Under his cloak he had strapped the small sword around his waist and positioned it in front of his groin so he could lay his right hand on the braided handle, ready to draw the blade out in one quick swoop. As he laid his head on a rolled up cloth and finally closed his eyes, a thought from the past streaked across his mind. Something about living by the sword and dying by the sword. He recalled when he had heard those words and then dozed off into the realms behind his eyelids.

  The morning brought out the songbirds for the day watch as the sun’s early rays draped the  ridges of the highlands above the sleeping bodies below. The old man realized he had overslept as the bright morning light blinded his crusty eyes when he was harshly awakened by a stream of high-pitched donkey snorts. He quickly rose and burst out of the tent with his sword drawn at arms length. The creature ran wildly in circles at the end of the rope, stirring up dust and snorting in panic. Fortunately, it was not near the tent, or the crazed animal would have trampled it and the dreamers inside.

  The old man jumped into the circle being made by the tiny hooves and grabbed the rope. When he had finally calmed the donkey, he looked around to see what had spooked it. He knew of only two things that made the animal act in such a peculiar way–dogs and horses. Neither was in sight. He hobbled to the top of a nearby knoll for a view over the shrubs and grass. There toward the hilly ridge high above moved the cause of the commotion–Roman soldiers, some on foot and others on horseback heading south in the direction of Jerusalem. They were quite far off, but the scent carried on the morning breeze was potent enough to worry the beast senseless. Their movements were muffled by the distance, but the blanket of dust they stirred practically obscured the bushes that lined the ridge. Assured they were not seen, the old man quickly went back to the tent, to a sleeping Miriam who had dozed off again.

 

  I must explain the terrain on the lake’s eastern shore. Most of the land sloped gently upward to the highlands surrounding the water, but at our landing spot the shore was more rugged with steep cliffs. Caverns carved out of the stone in days gone by covered the entire hillside and were used as burial tombs. About halfway up the hill, on a level area, lay the cemetery for the town of Kheresa. The village of Kheresa was nearby and you may remember it was the home of the twins, James and Judas Alpheus.

  On the way up the hill the twins made reference to a madman who had once been chained in one of the caverns and fed by the townspeople. The twins believed he was now loose and roamed the hills in his madness. We looked around us like frightened children. As we came to the cemetery, the  shouts of a ranting, naked, crazy man startled us. He jumped out of a cave scaring us cold. After regaining our composure and realizing he was harmless, we laughed with relief. The man’s sanity came and went, and during periods of sanity he would find clothes and live among his fellows. One of the evangelists recalled that he had recently seen that strange man at the Bethsaida camp listening to the preaching of the Master. The madman’s name was Amos.

  When Amos recognized the Master, he fell to his knees saying, ‘I know you, Joshua, but I am possessed of many devils, and I beg you not to torment me.’ That poor madman really thought he was full of demons, but if he had a demon, then why was he able to be sane at times and not at others. I think he was just sporadically demented.

  The Master reached down and grabbed him by the hand and said, ‘Amos, you are not possessed of a devil. You have already heard the good news that you are a son of God. I command you to come out of this spell.’ Right away Amos seemed well and sane, talking normally to us all.

  Soon after he was made well, a few villagers happened by and marveled at Amos carrying on a normal conversation. On the highland above us, gentile swine herders guarding their pigs had seen the healing of Amos and ran into town to spread the word leaving their swine unattended. We heard barking and turned to see, in disbelief and amazement, that several dogs had chased many of the pigs over a cliff to their deaths. Dumb pigs. That took place soon after the Master spoke to Amos which made it seem as if one event was caused by the other. The apostles, except for Thomas, as well as the evangelists and even Amos said that Joshua drove the demons into the swine which made them crazy enough to jump over the cliff. But it was clearly the dogs barking that caused the fear and panic in the pigs. Others saw the dogs, too, but chose to believe they barked at demons in the swine.”

  “It could have been the dogs barking at demons. I’ve seen dogs bark at nothing at all as if they perceived spirits.”

  “Well, I was there and I know what I saw!” The old man paused, staring at her disbelief. “Before long, other townsfolk came out and mumbled in amazement at Amos sitting there conversing with us in a normal manner. Also, gathered around us were the gentile swine herders who had come down from the highlands after seeing their pigs at the bottom of the cliff. They were quite upset about losing their stinking swine. We didn’t care because they’re dirty, unclean animals. I mean the swine of course, but the herders weren’t much better. Amos excitedly shouted that the demons left him and entered the pigs. Those who believed, spread the word.

 

  Caleb joined Miriam on the knoll. “In my years of travel I’ve seen many stray dogs roaming together. Usually, they hang around camps and caravans hoping to be tossed morsels of food. They’re ordinarily harmless but have been known to attack lone travelers for food. They never bothered me because of the mule and his feisty nature.” The old man put his finger in his mouth then reached it high over his turban.

  “What in the name of Moses are you doing, Father? Does it taste good, that dirty old finger?”

  “I wasn’t tasting my finger. I was wetting it. I wondered why the donkey wasn’t reacting to the dogs, if it is dogs. He’s more afraid of horses, but dogs can make him nervous, too. With a wet finger I’d feel which way the breeze blew, and as I suspected my finger is colder on the backside meaning the breeze is blowing from the highlands down to the river. The dogs can smell us, but the donkey can’t smell them. I think we’re safe with the river between us. I don’t recall a crossing near here.”

  Miriam hurried to the pack and removed a water jar. “I need to tend to private matters and while I‘m away, I’ll get a refill. Like you said, they’re on the far side of the Jordan and shouldn’t bother me. If you hear my scream, come running with your sword.” She moved through the brush a few steps and turned around to say, “Remember, keep your ears sharp,” then vanished through the reeds.

  “Be careful, dear,” the old man said to himself as he relaxed by laying on his side with his arm beneath his head. He listened to the rustling of the breeze in the leaves and grasses around him, even closing his eyes in order to hear better.

  Rising from her crouch behind a cluster of nettle bushes, Miriam went to the river’s edge and filled the jar then put her arm through the cord attached to the neck and hung the container beneath her arm. She concentrated her eyes on the far riverbank where willows clustered along the river’s edge, interrupting areas of low grasses. She looked for a movement but saw only the flashing of sunlight reflected off the leaves flickering in the wind. Yapping down river abruptly disrupted her attention. ‘Dogs after all,’ she thought. After glancing back in the direction of the camp, she moved down river in search of the sound.

  The thicket flourished more on her side of the river making it difficult to stay close to the bank as she clambered over twisted branches and dead limbs. While continually glancing across the flowing water, Miriam took care not to step in soggy soil, but several times had scraped her lower leg on the sharp, dry bark of tangled oleanders causing blood to mix with the dust on her skin. Movement caught the corner of her eye as she broke into a clearing. She halted and held her breath until the source of the motion revealed itself. She slowly squatted to make herself less visible.

  On the other side where a willow grew horizontally into the shallow water of a sandbar, a large, shorthaired mongrel, the color of old, dry leather spotted with gray stains, paced in and out of the water trying to retrieve an object caught in the branches. Miriam counted at least four other dogs of various sizes romping and yipping behind him in encouragement to succeed at his task. In and out of the water he pranced working up his courage, each time reaching a paw out attempting to snag the object bobbing on the surface. Finally, braving to go out a little farther, he hung a toenail in what appeared to be cloth. There was a familiarity to the object brought ashore. Miriam recalled the cloth-like object floating downstream earlier.

  The spotted one grabbed the garment by his fangs and waded back to the bank where the others yelped in circles as they made attempts to grab it away. He made a quick jerk to place the object firmer in his mouth. At that moment a shutter of horror fell over Miriam as she recognized the coveted treasure. When the cloth fell away, an arm with fingers spread wide became visible, at least what was left of it. Miriam slightly gagged at the sight before arresting her emotions.

  There was something she hadn’t previously noticed about the spotted one. As he moved around to avoid losing his prize, she could see his back right leg was limp, unusable and drawn up close to the body. A fight over the arm ensued and the spotted one was forced to drop his catch in order to nip at the would be bone snatchers.

  Miriam stood up wanting to remove herself from the sight. The three-legged one caught her motion and stared at her with his one good eye. The look was one of surprise but of determination, also. He left the arm to the others and began barking frantically as he paced the bank. On his three good legs he ran up and down the river’s edge searching for a place to cross. Miriam’s heart pounded in her throat. She regretted her decision to venture away from camp. Hurriedly, she scrambled through the thicket cutting herself more as she sought the safety of the sword.

  Caleb, disturbed by the sound of rustling reeds, woke from his light nap. When he saw Miriam scurrying toward him, he rose to his feet. He didn’t wait for her to speak. He could see she was panicked and drew his sword as he surveyed the thicket behind her.

 

  Pilate took his seat before the mob while the Master stood off to one side between two soldiers. Pilate said to the chief priests, ‘You brought this man before me with charges that he perverts the people, forbids the payment of taxes, and claims to be king of the Jews. I’ve examined him and fail to find him guilty of these charges. In fact, I find no fault in him at all.’ I felt a ray of hope he would set him free.

  He continued. ‘Then I sent him to Herod, and he must have reached the same conclusion since he has sent him back to me. Certainly, nothing worthy of death has been done by this man. If you still think he needs to be disciplined, I’m willing to chastise him before I release him.’ Good! I thought. Beat him and let him go!

  The mob shouted and cursed Pilate as a group of men came up the steps hollering the name, ‘Barabbas.’ ‘Give us Barabbas!’ they said. It was customary during Passover for the Roman governor to release a condemned prisoner at the request of the people. When those men came demanding to have someone called Barabbas released, Pilate thought he could get them to choose Joshua instead. Barabbas was a real political agitator and a murdering robber, a very dangerous fellow and so why would they want him released?

  Part of the mob around me had been cheering the Master only a few days earlier when the temple was cleared of money changers, so why wouldn’t they want him released? Pilate needed a way out of the predicament and releasing Joshua for the Passover was his way out, so he thought. He told them again that he could find no charge worthy of condemning the Master to death. He asked them which one they’d like released, Barabbas, the murderer, or Joshua of Galilee?

    The chief priests and Sanhedrin councilors all shouted at the top of their voices, ‘Barabbas, Barabbas.’ The mob, like sheep, blindly followed their lead and shouted for Barabbas, too. No one yelled, ‘Joshua.’ My heart sank. Something welled up inside of me, and I was about to shout the name of Joshua when Pilate stood up and waved his arm to shut them up.

  He was agitated that his plan failed. He seemed angry at the ruthlessness of the priest for wanting a murderer released. His voice revealed his disgust when he sarcastically said, ‘How could you choose the life of a murderer in preference to the life of a man whose crime is that he figuratively calls himself the king of the Jews?’

  I hung my head. Pilate had no idea what he had just done. By calling the Master the king of the Jews, he had sentenced him to death. The leaders became infuriated and shouted even louder, ‘Give us Barabbas!’ A guard came from inside the structure and handed Pilate a note. He read it to himself. I found out that the note was from his wife, Claudia, a partial believer in the Master’s teachings after  being influenced by servants. The note revealed that she had a dream the previous night which caused her much suffering. She prayed that her husband would have nothing to do with the death of an innocent man. Pilate truly looked worried and perplexed.

  While he read her words, the temple priest went through the mob urging for the release of the robber and for the crucifixion of the Master. Once again Pilate foolishly addressed the crowd asking, ‘What shall I do with the one called the king of the Jews?’ In one loud voice like thunder in the clouds they screamed, ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’

  My lips couldn’t contain my voice any longer. The words ‘Release him! Release him!’ blurted out of my mouth. Not very loud at first, but then I shouted them out hoping Pilate would hear. Those around me stopped yelling while giving me a strange and piercing look.

  Pilate spoke again raising his voice to be heard, ‘Why would you crucify this man? What evil has he done? Who will come forward to testify against him?’ Pilate leaned into a gale force, fighting a battle he could only lose.

  ‘Crucify him!’ They yelled back.

  ‘Release him,’ cried my struggling throat. One angry priest told me to shut up unless I wanted to be crucified, too.

  Again Pilate appealed to them, ‘Once more I ask you, which of these prisoners shall I release to you at this Passover time?’ The coward had the power to end it all right then, but his fear of the Sanhedrin poisoned his judgement.

  The growing mob shouted, ‘Give us Barabbas!’ as I yelled louder over their screams, ‘Release Joshua!’ Just as I caught the face of Pilate turning in my direction as if he heard me, a hand struck me in the face knocking me to the ground. I lay there a bit dazed and staring at the paving stones covered in grains of sand. I rose to my knees and crawled away from the restless forest of legs, down a few steps to finally rest against a column. Blood ran from my cut lip onto the front of my cloak. In my confusion, I thought ‘Esther will have a hard time getting the blood from this cloak.’”

  Miriam winced at the thought of her father being hit and bleeding. She wanted to say something but kept her peace. The day was waning and they had yet to find a suitable campsite. Miriam decided to wait until he paused in his story to suggest moving on.

  “I could still hear the coward above me asking the same question hoping to get a different answer. ‘If I release the murderer, Barabbas, what shall I do with Joshua?” And again he got the same answer, ‘Crucify him!’ I came to the conclusion he was deaf. I heard Pilate say something else, but I couldn’t make it out and to be honest with you, Miriam, at that moment, I didn’t care. But the mob became quiet with only a murmur moving through it.  I listened but couldn’t tell what was going on.

  Then by my arms I was lifted to my feet. At first, I thought I was being arrested until the familiar faces of two of David’s associates smiled at me. What a relief! I wasn’t alone after all. They informed me that several of them had been coming and going to bring news to David. They told me that the Master had been taken into the courtyard of the praetorium by the guards with Pilate leading the way.

  We waited and waited for quite some time before Pilate returned with the Master in tow. My God, Miriam, the sight of the man was more than I could bear. Blood dripped from his brow where a crown of thorned branches had been jammed over his head. The blood mixed with the sweat that ran down his cheeks. He stood slightly bowed over with grief and pain still wearing the purple robe now saturated in blood stains on the back.

  They had taken him into the courtyard and stripped him of the robe and tunic exposing his bare back. They tied his hands to a post and attacked him with knotted whips. They beat him without mercy until Pilate stopped them. As Pilate left the inner courtyard, he instructed the guards to bring the prisoner once he was dressed. After the guards stopped whipping the Master, they put the robe and the crown on him and put a rod in his hand as a mock scepter. They knelt before him saying, ‘Hail, king of the Jews.’ They spat upon him and struck him in the face with their hands. When they made ready to return him, one of them grabbed the rod and hit him in the head. The scourging was against Roman law which stated only a man condemned to die by crucifixion could be beaten. Pilate, who wanted to let the Master go free and hadn’t condemned him yet, unlawfully had him scourged hoping the blood drawn by one method would eliminate it drawn by another. His plan utterly failed.

  When the mob first laid eyes on the scourged Master, they gasped to a hush at the horror before them. But it lasted only a moment until one priest cried out, ‘Crucify him.’ Then the entire mob chanted the same,    ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’ The jackals.

  Again Pilate ‘the deaf governor’ stepped forward and raised his arm, ‘I perceive that you are determined that this innocent man shall die, but what has he done to deserve death? Who will declare his crime?’ He squirmed like a worm dug out of the soil.

  From out of the mob, Caiaphas, the high priest, stepped forward right into the face of Pilate and said, ‘We have a sacred law, and by that law this man should die because he made himself out to be the Son of God.’ I could tell Pilate was becoming anxious and worried at not convincing the mob of the prisoner’s innocence. He waved for the crowd to hold its peace while he took the Master by the arm and led him back inside, that time with John Zebedee.

  Pilate sat Joshua down and visibly trembling with fear he sat down beside him and asked, ‘Where do you come from? Really, who are you? What is this they say, that you are the Son of God?’ The Master said nothing but stared into the eyes of the weakling. Pilate continued, ‘Do you refuse to speak to me? Don’t you realize that I still have the power to release you or to crucify you?’ The stupid man hadn’t realized he had lost his power long ago.

  The Master desired to set Pilate straight saying, ‘You could have no power over me except if it were permitted from above. You could exercise no authority over the Son of Man unless the Father in heaven allowed it. But you aren’t so guilty since you are ignorant of the gospel. He who betrayed me and those who delivered me to you, they have the greater sin.’

  Again did Pilate return with the Master before his accusers. He couldn’t find a way out of his nightmare. He said to them, ‘I am certain this man is only a religious offender. You should take him and judge him by your own law. Why should you expect that I’d consent to his death because he has clashed with your traditions?’

  He signaled a soldier to untie the hands of the Master, but before it could be done, Caiaphas  ran to the side of Pilate and shaking a finger in his face yelled, ‘If you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend, and I will see that the emperor knows all.’ That was it. They wore him down. The threat of losing his governor’s position and his wealth because Caesar may believe he was disloyal and not a friend was more than he could take.

  The coward had Joshua brought near the judgement seat and pointing a finger at him he screamed at the mob. ‘Behold, your king.’

  They shouted back, ‘Away with him . . . Crucify him!’

  In sarcasm Pilate screamed back, ‘Shall I crucify your king?’

 The priests shouted back, ‘Yes, crucify him. We have no king but Caesar.’ Pilate’s head dropped to his chest. That was the end. It was over. He had lost the battle. At that moment he looked more sorrowful and beat up than the bleeding man beside him. Sweat gushed down his clean-shaven face, falling in big drops from his chin.

 Pilate turned and reluctantly ordered the release of Barabbas as the mob cheered. Then he called for a basin of water, and for everyone to see, he washed his hands saying, ‘I am innocent of the blood of this man. You are determined that he shall die, but I have found no guilt in him. See you to it. The soldiers will lead him forth.’

  The mob cheered and a high priest yelled, ‘His blood be on us and on our children.’

  Tears slowly rolled down my cheeks. I quietly wept alone.’  

 

  Caleb looked down at his feet and then over to Miriam where he saw the moisture welling up in her eyes. They remained glassy and filled, but a drop never formed to fall. She cleared the lump in her throat, but still the first words grabbled in her mouth. “I’m horrified and dismayed at the unrighteousness of it all. I don’t know how you withstood the agony of it! I promised myself not to interrupt you, but I suffer in your memories and feel your pain and must tell you.”

  The old man said nothing as his forehead fell into the palm of his hand. Miriam looked back down into the valley to reassure herself and let out a deep sigh. “We should be going before the dusk catches us without a camp. We’ll find a spot, eat and you can finish your story in peace before we sleep. Our journey is coming to an end, and we’ll have us a long rest before going to see Abner.”

  Miriam rose and led the way through the low brush of the highlands, toward the lowering sun.

 

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