Читать книгу Journey of the Pearl - A. E. Smith - Страница 13

Adas watched from behind the ground-sweeping tamarisk tree as the drama unfolded. The Hebrew men came and went. The women also came and went, but not before a man appeared who caused them to fall to the ground in shock, and then incredible joy. Adas wondered who the man could be. Then everyone was gone.

Adas waited, listening intently, but all was still. He sat down and ran the day’s events through his mind, trying to make sense of it. He tried to remember everything his nanny had taught him about the Hebrews. He heard something and peered through the tree leaves. A man stepped in front of the tomb. He turned and looked directly at Adas. Seeing the intensity of the man’s dark eyes, Adas instinctively moved his head back. He thought he was obscured by the dense foliage of the tree, but the stranger nodded once in greeting. A subtle upward curve to the corners of his mouth appeared. Adas saw welcome recognition in the stranger’s eyes. The centurion stared, mesmerized by the depth of kindness in his expression.

The man was not one of the two Galileans who had inspected the tomb. This man was clothed in a white tunic and robe which draped from his broad shoulders to his sandaled feet. His dark hair flowed back from his rugged features, revealing a close cropped beard. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Adas thought he looked familiar, but something was different. It was like meeting a sick man, then seeing him the next day, completely cured. Yet Adas had no doubt the mysterious man knew him. The recognition in his eyes was undeniable. This was the same man whose presence shocked the women so dramatically. Why he had returned?

Without taking his gaze from Adas’s face, the man nodded once more. Adas blinked and he was gone. Adas ran to the garden entrance and scanned the area, but no one was there. Hopefully, the man would return.

Adas went back in the garden and peeked into the tomb. It was still empty. He sat next to the rock that once sealed it and reviewed his options. Eventually, his thoughts circled back to Lucius’s cryptic words concerning their commanding officer. The legionary implied that their cohors commander, Centurion Valentius, had given orders that undermined Adas’s authority. Octavean was insubordinate. Roman law required severe punishment or execution for insubordination. However, the law is only as good as the willingness to enforce it.

Deeply troubled, Adas wished he could discuss these matters with his former commander, Centurion Cornelius. He pulled a letter from his knapsack which he received only a few days ago.

Cornelius wrote,

“I have to tell you about Claudius Flavius Januarius, the centurion I introduced you to in Capernaum. He sent his servant, Andreas, to tell me Claudius was ill and not expected to live. I went to bid him farewell. He told me the most amazing story about this same servant. Andreas’s entire family died during a plague and the boy had no one. Claudius hired him as a stable hand. He excelled and became Claudius’ personal aide. He depended on the young man more and more as the years went by. Then Andreas became deathly ill, even paralyzed. The doctors tried everything, but nothing worked. Then a great Hebrew prophet and healer came to Capernaum and Claudius heard of it. Claudius heard many stories of how this man, sent by God, could cure all illnesses. So Claudius sent his Jewish friends to ask if the healer would cure Andreas. Then he reconsidered since it is improper for a Jew to enter the home of a Gentile, so Claudius went to the healer and said, “I am not worthy for you to enter my home. Say the word, and my servant will be healed.” The Hebrew man praised my friend for his faith and said, “It is as you ask.” Claudius hurried home and Andreas was completely healed that same hour.

We talked as much as Claudius was able and he told me many stories about the healer, Yeshua. I stayed with Claudius until he died and asked Andreas if he wanted to work for me in Caesarea and he accepted. Since then, I have tried to learn as much as I can about the Hebrew God. They say Yeshua is his son, in human form. Before Claudius died, I begged him to let me find Yeshua. Claudius refused, saying it was his time to die and was not afraid. His peaceful acceptance of death is what caused me to be even more curious.

When you come to Caesarea again, we can discuss this in more detail. Andreas is doing quite well now. He is my chief horse trainer at the garrison, since I have no one to take your place. Actually, no one will ever take your place in my heart since you are a son to me. Dulcibella sends her love. She has no eyes for any other man except you. One of my officers, a man named Gnaeus Flavius Ovidis, presented himself recently without an invitation. I was prepared to expel him from the premises, but my spirited daughter sent him on his way. I don’t know what she told him, but he left hastily. He has since resigned his commission after the death of his father, and returned to Rome.

Dulcibella has kept busy since you left. She has me supervise her archery lessons. She studies her language lessons every day. She also studies with us when Philip, the evangelist, meets with us. She has learned as much as her mother could teach her about cooking and gardening. And most amazing to us, she has developed an acceptable skill with a sword. When she requested boxing lessons, we jokingly asked if she planned to enlist in my cohors as a bellatrix to fight along with my legionaries. She only gave us her sweet smile for an answer. Her little brothers enjoy being her sparring partners, and they have made a fun game of their “competitions.” I look forward to seeing you again, Adas, as does the whole family.

Yeshua had miraculously cured the servant of a Gentile and asked nothing in return. This was the same man who inspired Zacchaeus to change his life after one afternoon’s visit and motivated Demas to confess and turn himself in for execution. Adas realized why anxiety gripped his heart the day of the crucifixions. He had buried his knowledge of Yeshua in a pit of excuses. He told himself Yeshua was a common name, and the man to be crucified could not possibly be the same Yeshua who worked miracle after miracle. But a sickening surge of guilt swept over him. His participation in the crucifixion could never be rationalized.

Trying to relieve his guilt, Adas spoke Yeshua’s words aloud. “Father, forgive them.” It didn’t help. The terrible deed was done and could not be undone. If only he could step back in time, he thought, but he knew thinking this way was useless. Adas dropped a hand to his dagger.

“I knew you were innocent,” he thought to himself. “I killed you, anyway.”

A voice within his head answered, “I still forgive you.”

But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to share the physical pain Yeshua suffered even if it was only a semblance of his agony. Adas wanted a permanent reminder to never again execute an innocent man. He grasped his dagger with his left hand and studied the blade. He tilted the dagger back and forth and watched the sunlight glint off the polished metal. He held his breath, clenched his teeth, and held up his right palm. Quickly before he lost his resolve, he cut a cross from fingers to wrist. Adas dropped the dagger and grasped his wrist. Emotional relief flooded over him as blood ran from his hand.

Adas thought of the nails in Yeshua’s hands and feet driven by his orders. Adas had marveled at the strength of the man and his lack of fear. Even the other three soldiers exchanged astonished glances. Adas hoped if they had remained sober, they would never have mocked Yeshua as they did, especially Lucius. However, his own behavior tore at his heart the most.

Adas cut a long strip of linen from the hem of his tunic. He wrapped the linen tightly around his hand. He remembered being injured as a child and the gentle way his mother would bandage his wounds. Thinking of her made him think of the pearl. Adas pulled the pearl’s pouch from under his tunic. Satisfied it was securely sealed, he prayed. “God of the Hebrews, you know why I have this pearl. I am not worthy to own it; therefore, I give it to you. I have heard you are the Creator Spiritus of all things. Since the earth belongs to you, I will put this pearl in the earth. If it is your will, I will take it up to pass it on as it was passed to me. For now, I am ashamed to even hold it in my hand.”

Adas made sure he was still alone and slipped into the empty tomb. He dug a hole in the floor of the cave and put the pouch in it. Just for a second, he was tempted to take it back, but instead, he brushed dirt into the hole and pressed it in.

The sun was low in the west when Lucius and the other two reached the gate to the garden. They seemed very pleased with themselves and very drunk. They had been celebrating their new-found wealth over expensive wine in the company of women who sold their favors. Lucius paused at the entrance to the garden and fumbled in his knapsack. He found a vial, pulled the cork out with his teeth, and swallowed the contents. He steadied himself against the garden archway and threw the vial as far as he could. The ceramic container shattered against the rock.

“Lucius,” implored Hektor, “do you still need the opium?”

“What does it matter to you?”

Hektor knew Lucius was even more dangerous if he had become an opio addicta. A man had tried to kill Hektor once over a vial of curative gentiane, thinking it was opium. They entered the garden and found Adas sleeping in the shade of the tamarisk tree.

“Well,” snickered Falto, “The boy is curled up in his cloak like a bug in a cocoon. Why is he still here?” The drunken man laughed uncontrollably.

Lucius swatted him across the back of the head. Falto lurched forward, nearly falling. “Shut up, you imbecile!” Lucius hissed. “Let him sleep. I only came here to make sure the tomb is still open. We need to get back to the Antonia before he does.” He tried to drink from a wine bottle, but tripped and fell over. The other two soldiers doubled over in raucous laughter.

The noise woke Adas. His hand automatically reached for the handle of his dagger when he saw the men. He scrambled to his feet and faced them. “You dare to return here. Do I need to remind you of the punishment for disobeying a direct order?”

Unknown to the soldiers, two men had taken a position among the rocky outcrops above the garden. Unseen, a third man approached from the lower slopes.

One of the two men spoke to his companion, “Are you sure you want to stay, Cleopas? You could have gone with the others to Bethany,” Jamin whispered.

“No, Jamin, I know how important this is to you. I only wish we had approached the centurion before the soldiers showed up. Besides, you and I were blessed with Yeshua’s presence twice today.”

They watched as the centurion confronted the three inebriated soldiers. “You recognize them, don’t you?” asked Cleopas. “They’re the same ones who crucified Yeshua?”

“Yes, and it looks like the big legionary is still trying to pick a fight with the centurion. That legionary is going to get himself executed.”

“Jamin, this is not good for your friend. He is outnumbered and he’s already injured.”

Lucius swayed on his feet as he shouted, “Punishment? I think not! After I tell Valentius how you helped the Nazarene’s followers steal his body. You will suffer punishment, not us!”

Adas had underestimated the legionary’s confidence in Valentius’s protection. “You think your lies will succeed, Octavean?”

A cold smile crossed Lucius’s face. “No, I don’t think they will. I know they will. Your counterfeit status will not help you.” Lucius threw down his knapsack and the wine bottle. He stared at the bandage on Adas’s right hand. “Besides you’re a bit—handicapped! Perhaps I should demonstrate how a fraudulent centurion does not equal three legionaries.”

Lucius drew his sword. Alarmed at the challenge, Hektor stepped back. Lucius tried to circle Adas, but he stumbled. The wine had affected his judgment and his coordination.

Adas shifted his dagger to his right hand and held it as best he could. He drew his sword with his left hand, and waited for Lucius to attack first. Lucius knew he was in no shape to take on Adas in a swordfight. Even sober, his success would not be assured. The centurion was deadly quick. Hektor and Falto exchanged glances as they tried to decide what to do. Falto feared Lucius more than he feared the centurion. He pulled his dagger and held it behind his back. Hektor hesitated. Watching was quite another thing from participating. Then he thought of the money in his knapsack and what would happen to it if he sided with the centurion. But if he sided with Lucius, there would be no going back. Longinus would have to die, here and now.

Hektor made his decision and signaled to Falto to circle behind Adas. Even Falto understood the moment they should have sided with their commanding officer was long past. Valentius’s protection would only go so far since he answered to Tribune Salvitto who protected no one from Roman justice. If Longinus got to Salvitto, they would be dead men. Reluctant to draw a weapon against a superior officer, Hektor picked up a rock.

From their hiding place, Jamin and Cleopas saw what was happening. The third observer had an even better view.

Hektor darted behind Adas just when Lucius lunged with his sword. Adas deflected Lucius’s attack, but could not avoid the other two. He looked over his shoulder in time to dodge Falto’s dagger, but from his safer distance, Hektor threw the rock. It hit Adas across the left temple. Dazed, but still on his feet, Adas shook his head, trying to clear bright popping lights from his vision. Adas turned in Falto’s direction and brought the flat side of his sword down on his hand. Falto yelped with pain as he dropped his dagger. Trying to step back in retreat, Falto tripped and landed on his back. He crawled behind Lucius on all fours.

As Adas tried to keep all three men in sight, Hektor dodged to the side and snatched up another rock. Adas saw the motion of his arm and managed to duck in time, but the distraction gave Lucius a chance to knock Adas’s sword out of the way with his own sword. Adas retaliated, bringing his sword crashing down on Lucius’s sword. The legionary howled as pain shot down his arm from his previously dislocated shoulder forcing him to drop the weapon. Lucius was defenseless, but Adas shifted his grip and brought the flat of the blade down on Lucius’s arm. Confused, Lucius realized the centurion was not using deadly force. Adas could have thrust the sword under Lucius’s leather chest armor, killing him instantly.

Then Hektor grabbed Adas’s left arm and forced it behind his back. Lucius hit Adas with his fist as hard as he could. Adas collapsed, hitting his head on a rock outcrop behind him. The double impact knocked him unconscious. His weapons dropped from his hands. Still on his hands and knees, Falto scrambled for his dagger. He raised the weapon, but Lucius grabbed Falto by the back of the neck and threw him on his back.

“What did you do that for?” Falto shouted.

“No, not with a dagger.” Lucius panted. “I have a better idea.”

As he stood staring down at the unconscious centurion, euphoria from the opium overcame him. Gratification crossed his face as he rubbed his fist. “How did that feel—boy!” Lucius gingerly touched his jaw, bruised by Adas’s fist the day of the crucifixions. The permanently etched lines of anger in his face eased. “Looks like we won’t need to cower behind Valentius’s shield, after all.” Lucius retrieved his sword.

Watching from the rocky outcrops, Jamin and Cleopas both gasped in horror. “We’ve got to do something,” Jamin whispered. “If they kill him, I’ll never know what Demas said.” He started to move, but Cleopas pulled him back.

“No. Wait. Look! There’s someone else hiding above the tombs, and he has a sword. He’s moving.”

Hektor watched Lucius snatch up his knapsack and start for the garden gate. “Lucius, have you lost your mind? You can’t leave now! You have to finish him off, or have you lost your nerve like you did when the Nazarene died? You couldn’t even spear a dead man.” Falto clumsily got to his feet and backed away, not sure who would take control.

Lucius rounded on Hektor. “What are you talking about? The only one who lost his nerve is this pathetic boy. He could have killed both of us just now! But we can’t kill him with our weapons! We have to make this look like zealots attacked him.”

Hektor doubtfully eyed Lucius. “Tell me. What happened at the crucifixions when you had the spear in your hands?”

“Longinus hit me for defying him.”

“You weren’t defiant. You were afraid, my friend.”

Lucius’s eyes closed to slits of icy silver. “Really? What do you think I was afraid of?” He grasped his dagger. “And I’m not your friend.”

Hektor backed away. “What do I care, anyway?”

Lucius released his dagger. “Good answer, Hektor. You might live another day.”

Hektor pointed at the unconscious centurion. “Well, we can’t let him live another day.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t. Hitting him with the rock gave me an idea. We stone him to death. We say Longinus sent us to buy food and when we returned, we found him dead, surrounded by rocks. It’ll look like zealots killed our noble centurion so they could steal the Nazarene’s body.”

“You’re smarter than you look, Lucius. I guess we’ll need more rocks.” He picked up the rock stained with Adas’s blood and put it in his knapsack. “There’s one,” he laughed. “I’ll show it to Valentius when we make our report. Come on, Weasel. Grab your knapsack.”

“I’ll stay here. Hurry! It’ll get dark soon,” called Lucius. The two soldiers left the garden. They headed north on the road, searching for fist-sized stones. Jamin and Cleopas saw the other observer moving among the outcrops. They decided to even the odds and follow the rock-hunting soldiers.

Lucius smirked as he knelt down. “So, Centurion Longinus, what do you have that I want?” He dismissed the fine metal armor. It would be too dangerous to have it in his possession. The sword and dagger were elegantly crafted and obviously expensive. He picked up Adas’s dagger and admired the sharpness of the blade and the ornate handle. The dagger was adorned with the head of a wolf at the top of the handle, fashioned in brass. The eyes consisted of opaque golden amber. Heavily arched brows hooded the eyes and a downward tilted head gave the wolf an aggressive stare. The jaws were slightly apart and the lips were curled in a permanent snarl. The ears were turned to either side giving them a horn-like appearance. The handle was covered with leather to increase its comfort and efficiency. The blade was wide at the hilt, tapering down to a deadly point.

Lucius set the dagger down and disconnected the sheath from Adas’s belt. The sheath was made of leather-covered wood decorated with an amber-eyed wolf head etched in a brass plate. There was an inscription etched in the plate under the wolf which read: “Son of the Father, Longinus.” He slid the dagger into the sheath. Lucius knew his entire salary for several years would barely be enough to buy a weapon like this one.

Lucius picked up Adas’s sword. The handle of the sword also boasted a wolf head. The amber eyes were larger, but gleamed with the same luster of sunlight-yellow flames, with one difference. At the center of each eye was an irregularly shaped black object. The shapes were each half of a small black beetle petrified in the amber. The pair of eyes came from the same piece of amber, cut in half. The distorted black pupils gave the golden eyes a malevolent appearance. The blade was highly polished, very sharp, and looked as if it had rarely clashed with another weapon or shield. Lucius reasoned that Adas must have little battlefield experience. He placed the sword on the palm of his hand. It was perfectly balanced. Rotating his wrist, he twirled the sword in figure eights. The blade sang with an undulating hum. Stabbing and slashing, Lucius reconsidered his initial assessment of Adas’s battle experience. With a weapon like this, the enemy might not live long enough to defend himself.

Lucius set the sword down and unfastened the leather-covered scabbard from the centurion’s belt. There was another inscription. It read: “Loyalty Above All. Son of the Father, Longinus.”

Lucius thought of his own father and grimaced. Loyalty was a virtue he had never understood. It seemed others demanded it of him, but used it against him in the end. Everyone Lucius had ever trusted betrayed him, especially his own father. The legionary wondered what it was like, growing up in Rome as a pampered son of a high-ranking man of authority. Assuming Consul Longinus gave these extravagant weapons to his son, were they given to reward loyalty or to demand it?

The legionary returned the sword to the scabbard. He put both weapons in Adas’s knapsack, and put it into his own knapsack. He pulled his own dagger from his belt and scrutinized it. The handle bore no ornamentation and the blade was dented and dull from long use. The simple wooden sheath was cracked down the front. His sword was in worse shape than the dagger. The sword had many previous owners before Lucius took it off a dead combatant.

Lucius felt as battered and cheap as his few possessions. All his life he worked to acquire just a morsel of security, but never succeeded. Then there were men like Longinus who were given all these things, with no effort. He looked down at Adas. The gash on his forehead had dried, but his hair was matted and the side of his face and neck was stained with blood.

Lucius remembered what the silk merchant whispered in his ear the day of the crucifixions. The stranger pointed out how the privileged centurion was given so much while the legionaries did the work for little pay and no respect. The man’s words spurred an intense jealousy that coursed through Lucius’s heart like venom. His heart rate increased. Sweat broke out on his forehead. The opium was fully digested now, enhancing his confidence. Lucius made a low growl as he grasped his dagger in his fist. He pressed the blade against the side of Adas’s throat. A narrow cut, just under the jaw, from ear to chin, appeared beneath the blade. Lucius could hear his own breath coming faster. His mouth went dry. His hand grew sweaty, and stinging sweat dripped in his eyes. Temptation crept into his heart as if it were a living thing. Clenching his teeth, Lucius tried to press the dagger deeper but his mind and heart were locked in a stalemate of indecision. His heart sought the gratification of a death believed to be justified, but his mind resisted, fearing the consequences of punishment.

Lucius remembered what Adas said the day of the crucifixions. “I know you are not a coward. Don’t pretend to be one.” His hand shook as he tightened his grip on the dagger. His fingernails bite into the palm of his hand. Valentius’s instructions sprang into his mind. “Watch him, but do not take action. I want Longinus for myself.”

Lucius plunged the dagger into the ground inches from the centurion’s head. He cursed himself for his lack of resolve. He snatched his dagger from the ground and returned it to the sheath. He tried to tell himself a slashed throat would not be consistent with death by stoning. Valentius would know what he had done and have him executed.

Lucius sat cross-legged and stared at the unconscious man. If he could not take the centurion’s life, at least he would take everything else. Lucius knew most centurions wore an amulet of precious stone around their necks with the engraved name of their favorite god or goddess. Engraved crystals of sapphire, garnet, or ruby were highly prized. Lucius pulled on the front of Adas’s body armor and tunic, searching for a leather cord. There was none. Frustrated, he cursed aloud. Lucius looked at Adas’s seal ring on his bandaged right hand. The carved crest of the ring was an amber wolf’s head with the letters ACL above the head. Since the seal ring was used to stamp authorization on documents, the wolf’s head was the centurion’s official “signature.” Again, this item would be impossible to sell without being traced back to the centurion. Lucius detached the coin pouch all soldiers carried on their belts. He shook its contents into his hand. There were a few copper dupondii and a smooth green and blue nugget of eilat stone. He threw the items in the dirt. Wanting to exert some semblance of domination, Lucius got up and pulled on the front of Adas’s armor, slightly raising his head. Lucius pulled his fist back.

The unmistakable sliding sound of a sword leaving its scabbard gave Lucius pause. A sharp point pressed into the base of his neck. “If you hit him, I will split your back.” Lucius recognized the baritone voice immediately. The Roman lowered his fist, let go of the centurion’s armor and tried to straighten up. The point of the sword bit into his skin. “I will tell you when you can move, Octavean.”

“Malchus! What are you doing here? How dare you put a sword on me! You will be crucified for this.” He slowly moved his right hand toward his dagger.

“Touch that dagger and I’ll kill you. What happens to me will be irrelevant since you’ll be dead. Now put your hands on your head and face me. Now!”

Instead, Lucius whirled around, grabbed his dagger, and lashed out. In his drunkenness, he fell sideways on his knee. Malchus flicked his sword under the Roman’s chin, pressing just enough to break the skin. Malchus stepped around Lucius as he turned the blade, keeping it against his throat. He stood between Lucius and Adas with a view of the arched gate. Malchus pressed harder with the sword. Lucius sucked air between clenched teeth. The sharp metal stung.

“Drop the dagger.” Lucius spread his fingers out. The dagger dropped to the ground. “Now, get up. Put your left hand behind your back.” Malchus grasped Lucius’s left wrist and pulled up. “Now walk!” Lucius stepped forward, conscious of the increasing distance between himself and his weapons. Malchus pulled his sword away from Lucius’s throat but kept his left arm twisted behind him. He pushed hard as he released Lucius’s wrist. The legionary sprawled on the ground, but staggered to his feet and faced the temple guard.

Lucius wiped the back of his hand under his chin, smearing his blood. His face was crimson with rage. The veins in his neck protruded. His thick shoulders heaved as he panted, barely able to restrain himself. “I will have you arrested for this!”

“Do that! Caiaphas will explain to Pilate how Yeshua’s followers paid you to steal the body, and then you extorted bribes from the Sanhedrin by threatening to report that Yeshua miraculously resurrected. What a clever scheme to play both sides against the other, and double your profits. Do you think Pilate will believe Caiaphas or you?”

“Why don’t you kill the other two and take their share of the money!” Lucius said, trying to see over his shoulder. He wondered what was taking Falto and Hektor so long to return. He gestured at Adas. “Leave this one to me. If he lives, his testimony will get us all in trouble.”

“It is for his testimony I protect him. He is why I am here. You said, ‘Let him talk about angels and earthquakes.’ Why would he tell such a story if it was a lie, yet not demand a bribe? Most curious, I think. As for you, you’re drunk. I am not. I am armed. You are not. Leave now!”

Lucius knew retreat was his only option, especially since Falto and Hektor were nowhere in sight. Malchus stepped back and lowered his sword. Lucius grabbed his knapsack. He eyed his sword, but Malchus shook his head.

“This isn’t over! You will pay for this,” Lucius retreated along the garden path. At the gateway, he turned and shouted, “You want the centurion? You can have him! But some day, I’ll have you on a cross just like your precious Messiah!” Lucius stumbled out of the garden.

Malchus shook his head. “You ignorant fool. The teaching of that ‘precious Messiah’ is what stopped me from killing you.”

The moon had risen in the east even though the sun still hovered above the western horizon. Malchus knelt beside the unconscious Roman. “You’d better have some incredible answers or I have forfeited my life for nothing.” He saw the coin pouch and picked it up. He retrieved the eilat stone, and the coins, and dropped them in the pouch. He reattached the pouch to the centurion’s belt. Malchus heard footsteps and whirled around, sword in hand.

Jamin shouted, “We mean you no harm! I am Jamin and this is Cleopas. We’re here to help you with—him.”

“We have to hurry. The soldiers may return soon,” said Cleopas. “And when they do, they will not be happy.”

“We saw you hiding on the hilltop,” Jamin said. “Why are you here?”

“My name is Malchus and I came here to find this one,” He jerked his head at Adas. “I want to know what happened here today. The tomb is empty, and I think he knows why.”

“We want to talk with him as well,” said Jamin. “So let’s get him out of here.”

“Agreed. They will be shutting the city gates soon. The sun is almost set.” Malchus took his robe off and threw it over Adas, hiding his armor. “Be watching. The other two soldiers may come back.”

“I don’t think so,” said Cleopas. “They were really drunk and . . .”

“. . . and they’re resting right now,” interrupted Jamin.

Malchus looked from one to the other. “What did you do?”

“Nothing—much,” muttered Jamin.

Malchus grinned. “Come on, get his arms and I’ll get his legs.” They lifted Adas off the ground and started down the garden path.

“Where should we go?” asked Jamin. “I hope somewhere close. He’s heavier than he looks. Our friend, Peter, is staying nearby. Surely, they will allow us to bring this Gentile into the house under the circumstances.”

Malchus hesitated. “Do you mean Simon Peter, the fisherman?”

“Yes. You know him?”

“We’ve met. Perhaps it would be best if we go to my quarters instead. It’s not far, either. And there’s no one at the estate tonight.” They left the garden and hurried along the road.