Читать книгу Journey of the Pearl - A. E. Smith - Страница 8

Adas wondered how his legionaries could be so oblivious to the veiled sun and the bitter taste in the air. It made him yearn for Caesarea, where the breeze wafted off the Mediterranean Sea and the sparkling water matched the color of Dulcibella’s eyes.

Lucius threw the lots to the ground. “Ohe! There’s the winning number. I get the tunic.” He started to stuff it in his knapsack, but a bout of coughing made him pause.

“You better sell it for a good price, Lucius,” Hektor said. “That’s the only reward you’ll ever get in this army, along with that cough of yours.”

Lucius wiped his mouth. “Not true. Centurion Valentius has promised me a promotion to the Special Forces unit, specifically as a beneficiarius, if I continue to succeed at my assignments. My pay will double and that will be the end of menial labor for me.”

Falto snorted doubtfully. “Valentius offered you beneficiarius status? When? Years ago? He has made the same promise to others without ever making good. You know Valentius cannot promote anyone above a non-commissioned principales without the tribune’s approval. What assignments did he give you? Find the best brothels?” Falto laughed, but saw the centurion frowning at him and shut his mouth. Falto winked at Hektor, thinking the gesture made them allies against Lucius’s bragging.

“You love to hear yourself talk, don’t you, Weasel? I don’t work for free. Compensation can be in many forms. Valentius trusts me with. . .well, he trusts me. He sent me to spy on that so-called prophet camped out by the Jordan River, the one Herod beheaded. Just to see what he would say, I asked what we should do to follow his teachings. You know what he said?” The other two shook their heads. “He said, ‘Carry out Roman laws justly.’ As if the law ever did justice for me! I spit on Roman law!”

“Watch what you say!” Hektor warned. “You’re close to treason. And even a Roman citizen is crucified for treason.”

Falto slapped Hektor across the shoulder. “That’s only for high treason and Lucius doesn’t do anything worse than a fist fight. Besides, we’re the only ones who heard what he said. A cut from the wages of a beneficiarius would insure our silence, don’t you thi. . .”

Lucius leapt to his feet so fast Falto didn’t have a chance to move. The enraged Roman grasped him by the straps of his leather armor and yanked the foolish man to his feet. His fist crashed into Falto’s face, knocking him to the ground. Fortunately for Falto, Lucius was still recovering from a previously broken arm and dislocated shoulder. If he had used his uninjured arm, Falto’s jaw would have been broken.

“Don’t you ever threaten to blackmail me again or I’ll kill you!” His pale eyes gleamed with malice as his lips curled back from his teeth.

Adas spun around and saw Falto sprawled on the ground. “What do you think you’re doing?” Lucius faced the centurion but said nothing. “You two are disgraceful!” He tossed Falto’s wineskin at him. “Wash the blood off your face.”

“There’s a waste of good wine,” Lucius muttered.

“Did you say something, Octavean?”

“No, Sir!” Lucius lowered his eyes.

Adas stalked away and sat down. He dropped his head to his fingertips and massaged his temples. He looked up at the tortured men on the crosses and his annoyance ebbed in the face of their agony. Shaking his head, Adas wondered why the Nazarene had been condemned to this misery since Pilate found him innocent of any crimes. Perhaps, the silk merchant was right to call it murder. Adas looked at the followers of Yeshua. The thought of Dulcibella or his own mother being forced to witness such a thing sickened him. He scrutinized the mysteriously darkened sun and wondered if the man on the center cross could be divine after all, but he immediately dismissed the idea. Adas knew about the Hebrew God, but how could Elohim allow a part of himself to be treated like the worst of the lowest criminals.

When Adas was a child, his nanny, Misha, told him stories about God, the Father of all creation. Misha said, “God loves humanity, but demands obedience and he will punish those who refuse to obey him. You can ask for forgiveness from God, but an animal which is innocent of all sin, must be sacrificed. There can be no forgiveness without the shedding of innocent blood.”

“That’s terrible!” six-year-old Adas cried. “They’ve done nothing wrong?”

“It is for that very reason,” Misha answered. “Anyone can take the punishment for a convicted criminal, if he is innocent of the crime. That is the law. But only someone who is pure and innocent can stand in for all sin. However, only animals are sacrificed, never children, no matter how innocent they are, for God strictly forbids passing any child through the fire. The pagans practice foundation sacrifices—killing their own children to bury them in the foundation of a new home or a city wall. That is terrible.”

Young Adas then asked his mother about the Roman gods. Marsetina answered, “The Romans and Greeks worship gods and goddesses who take pleasure in making humanity suffer. Their religion gives those ‘worshipers’ an excuse to do the same thing—for pleasure or greed. If you want to know the mind and heart of a people, look at what or who they worship. There are people who form a lump of clay into a figure, call it by a name, and bow down to it. They are mindless fools. They plead with hunks of marble or casts of bronze and expect miracles. They are too stupid to see the futility of praying to their own designs.”

“So if there are no gods,” Adas asked, “what made the world and everything in it?”

Marsetina shrugged. “If the gods exist, who made them?”

“Misha says there is only one God. Don’t you believe her?”

“Misha has great wisdom, but I do not share her belief. She worships a God who cannot be seen. Her faith exceeds her logic.”

“What is faith and logic?”

“Faith is when you believe something before it happens. Logic is when you believe something because it has already happened.”

“Then, I have both logic and faith,” said Adas, pleased with himself, “because I believe you and Father will love me tomorrow as much as you loved me yesterday.”

Marsetina kissed her child’s forehead and smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes. “You are right, we will always love you. But a parent’s love can die.”

“How can love die? Your mother and father always loved you, didn’t they?” She left the room without answering. Adas was sorry for asking the question.

Young Adas asked his father about the gods. “Son, you have to make your own way and take responsibility. Divine intervention is not going to save or ruin you. You must be the master of your own life. Let experience be your guide, not the mutterings of soothsayers for hire.”

Forcing himself back to the present, Adas retrieved his wineskin and some bread from his knapsack. As he ate, he could hear Demas struggling to talk to the Nazarene. At first the robbers baited Yeshua challenging him to prove himself. But now Demas was listening to Yeshua and his anger dissolved. The two talked as best they could as Adas listened, increasingly fascinated. He wondered how the Nazarene had the strength to talk so calmly and at such length.

He heard the thief say, “Then you are the final blood sacrifice, Yeshua. Why didn’t I understand this before?”

The other criminal was listening, too. He spit words from his mouth as if they were sawdust, “If you are the Christ, save yourself and us!”

Demas called out, “Do you not even fear God, seeing you are under the same condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this Man has done nothing wrong. Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.”

Yeshua answered, “Today you will be with Me in paradise.”

Adas was astonished at the audacity of the Nazarene’s statement. He studied the sign posted above his head: Jesus of Nazareth—the King of the Jews. There was no chance he could misunderstand the message since it was written in Hebrew, Latin and Greek. He thought of the stories of this man healing sick and crippled people, and bringing the dead back to life. At the time, he thought it was exaggeration. But what if it were true? What if the Nazarene was divine? But if so, how could he allow himself to be crucified, the most degrading form of execution?

Yeshua spoke to one of the women and to the only man in the group of grieving followers. She turned to the man and cried, her head sagging against his shoulder, her hands covering her face.

Suddenly Yeshua lifted his head and cried out, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”

Jamin knew he was quoting from the Book of Psalms. He often recited these same verses after his family was murdered. “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me? Why are You so far from saving Me, so far from the words of My groaning? I am poured out like water, and all My bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted away within Me. . . .a band of evil men has encircled Me, they have pierced My hands and My feet.. . .people stare and gloat over Me. They divide My garments among them and cast lots for My clothing.” Jamin realized everything in this Psalm, written hundreds of years ago, was happening to Yeshua.

Yeshua cried out, “I thirst!” Adas dipped the sponge into a jar of wine vinegar. When he raised the sponge on a stick, Yeshua looked him directly in the eye. The centurion blinked in surprise at the intensity of the man’s expression.

A few observers cried out, “Let Him alone; let us see if Elijah will come to save Him.” Adas ignored them and concentrated on holding the stick as steadily as he could.

When Yeshua received the drink, he announced in a loud, clear voice, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit. It is finished!”

Immediately, there was a low rumble, and the earth began to shake so violently boulders split apart. The crowds of people were knocked off their feet. Splintered rocks crashed down from hilltops scattering screaming people in all directions. Jamin jumped to his feet, but immediately fell on his back and elbows. He choked on clouds of dust that filled the air. He struggled to his feet again, to get above the dust, but the quake knocked him back down. Everyone was sprawled on the ground, including the Roman soldiers.

The shaking intensified. The soldiers threw their hands out to steady themselves. They looked around with mild surprise which escalated into panic. The crosses swayed and both criminals struggled to get a footing. Yeshua hung lifeless. His drooping head swayed as the cross moved with the convulsing ground. The Nazarene’s followers cried aloud, clutching at each other as they fought to get to their feet. Then the oppressive darkness began to wane, but the air seemed to thicken. It pressed into the people with an inexplicable weight, making it difficult to breathe. The earthquake continued unabated.

Adas gave up trying to get to his feet. It seemed as if the shaking would never end. After what felt like an eternity, the tremors finally subsided. The sun returned to its natural state, restoring color to the world. There was complete silence, as if the earth had gone mute. Adas stared at the dead man above him. He was overcome by the timing of Yeshua’s crucifixion and death with the darkness and the earthquake.

Thinking of everything he had ever heard about Yeshua, Adas exclaimed, “Certainly this was a righteous man!”

Demas gasped for air. He could barely speak above a whisper, but Adas could hear him. “A mortal can be righteous. This man is not mortal. He is the Son of God. Tell my brother that because I willingly took up this cross, I go to be with God. I will wait for Jamin there.” Demas fell silent.

Adas turned and scanned the crowd. A flood of memories from Misha’s teaching raced through his mind. In one defining moment, he knew the greatest truth of all. For the first time in his life, he acted on pure faith. Centurion Longinus cried out, “Surely this was the Son of God!”

Lucius scrambled to his feet. “Sir! You can’t really think any god would let his son die like a slave. It got dark and the earth shook. So what? He was just like any other man.”

“Would an ordinary man forgive us while we tortured him to death? I have never even heard rumors of such a thing. Have you?”

Lucius started to speak, but could think of no reply. He shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare and grumbled to no one in particular, “I hate crucifixions. They always take so long to die.”

Hektor glanced at his wager tally and gloated, “Nazarene, you have made me a rich man.”

Lucius ground his teeth in anger. Not only had he lost his wager money, but Centurion Valentius had borrowed money from him to place a bet. He knew Valentius would never pay him back. Lucius looked around for his wineskin and snatched it up, but he had not resealed it. What little wine was left had run out during the earthquake. The blood of the grape joined with the blood of Yeshua as it soaked into the ground.

Yeshua was dead. The crowd began to disperse. Yet his followers remained. Their grief was only too evident, still they lingered. The other two crucified men would last much longer, perhaps days.

Adas spoke to Jamin in Hebrew. “I have wine if you’ve run out. For your brother.”

Jamin nodded gratefully. He again attached the sponge to the stick. Adas retrieved his wineskin when Jamin stopped him. “Why are you giving them aid?”

“It is a matter of decency. If I were up there, I would want someone to give me aid. They know Yeshua is dead. Why don’t they leave?”

“They stay for the same reason I stay for Demas,” said Jamin. “They just want to be with him a little longer, especially his mother, the woman that man is trying to comfort. The man’s name is John. He was one of Yeshua’s disciples.”

“Didn’t he have other disciples?”

Jamin nodded, but offered no excuse for their absence. He held the stick carefully so Adas could pour the wine onto the sponge. Jamin lifted the sponge to his brother’s lips. Demas took as much as he could. Jamin turned to Adas to thank him. Now that the sun shone brightly and color had returned, Jamin was startled to see the eyes of a wolf looking back at him. The centurion’s eyes were the color of opaque amber. The grayish-brown rings circling the irises gave the finishing touch. Jamin looked away to hide his distress.

Hours passed. The crowds were gone. Everything was strangely silent and still. It had only been a matter of hours, but Adas felt like he had been at Golgotha for days. He lay on the ground, his knapsack under his head, and his arm thrown over his eyes. He heard galloping hooves and sat up.

A horseman appeared on the path to Golgotha. Adas recognized the big, mahogany bay as Draco, the war horse of Decurion Cassius Sabinus Quintus. Cassius was tall for a Roman, with short dark hair and dark brown eyes. He sat a horse well with his straight back and broad shoulders, but walked with a right-legged limp, a reminder of a Scythian’s arrow.

Cassius reined in his horse. “Centurion Longinus, Governor Pilate sends orders! You’re to break their legs before the sun sets. They must be off the crosses before the Jewish Sabbath begins. Looks like the one in the middle is already dead. That was quick. And there still might be a riot. Some curtain in the temple was destroyed. I don’t know what it means, but they’re in an uproar, as if some old curtain could be the end of the world. Unfortunately, I have more bad news. Centurion Valentius says Governor Pilate wants the four of you to guard the Nazarene’s burial site until sunset on Sunday. There are rumors the Nazarene will come back to life. Some fear the zealots will steal the body. If you catch anyone, Valentius says to take them to the Sanhedrin, the Jewish court of law. Governor Pilate does not wish to be involved.”

“He wants us to guard the tomb?” Adas demanded.

Cassius nodded, but signaled for Adas to approach. He leaned down. “Adas, everyone knows how popular the Nazarene is—was with these people. I’d feel better if you had a few more squads.”

“I don’t understand why Valentius wants us to pull more duty, especially since we were at the end of our shift of night patrol.”

Cassius shrugged. “Those are his orders.”

Adas groaned in frustration. “If the crucifixions had been delayed just a little longer, a squad from day shift would have been in charge, and now we’ve got two more days.”

“Just be careful.” Cassius glanced at the other soldiers. “And what’s with those three? They are the most unreliable legionaries in your whole centuria. Why did you pick them?”

“I didn’t. Valentius assigned them, which is odd.” Adas stroked Draco’s neck. The spirited horse snorted and pawed the ground. “Today has been nothing but strange.”

Cassius lowered his voice. “I need to talk to you about Demitre, Valentius’s slave. I’ll tell you later when we can talk safely.”

“Until then, Cassius.” Adas rubbed the horse’s neck. The stallion stopped fidgeting. “Draco seems to be recovering well.”

“Yes, he is. I believe you saved his life, my friend. I don’t know what I’d do without this brave-hearted beast. He is fearless in battle. I owe you, Adas.”

“I may need to collect on that someday.”

“In the meantime, could you take a look at Tigula? He’s not eating well.” Decurion Quintus loved his dog. He slept soundly every night knowing the mastiff slept against the door. “I would take him to a veterinarius, but you know how Tig snarls at everyone except you.”

Adas turned his back to the crosses. It was hard to talk about common things with death so close. “I’ll take a look at the grouchy old beast as soon as I get back. By the way, the bolt on my door keeps jamming. Do you mind if I borrow your tools? I think I can fix it myself.”

“Sure. You can pick them up when you check on Tigula. Gratias, Adas.” Cassius started to leave, but a runner approached the men.

“Centurion, Governor Pilate summons you.”

Cassius slid from the saddle. “Here, take Draco. I’ll keep an eye on your men.”

Adas leaped into the saddle and urged the horse into a gallop. Jamin watched as the centurion rode away. He glanced at Lucius anxiously, but relaxed when the decurion spoke harshly to the legionaries. It wasn’t long before the centurion returned. Jamin sighed with relief when he dismounted. The centurion talked briefly with the decurion, thanking him for the use of his horse. The decurion ordered Falto to “present” his back so he could climb into the saddle. Adas frowned to see Falto on his hands and knees, knowing that normally only a slave would be expected to “back” a man into the saddle. Without a word, Cassius spun his horse around. Draco’s pounding hooves kicked bits of gravel at the legionaries as he sped away. The soldiers hurriedly turned their faces and waved off the cloud of dust.

Jamin had overheard the decurion and knew his brother’s suffering would soon end, but it would get much worse before it would be over. Falto picked up the hammer. Jamin couldn’t bear to watch Demas suffocate when he would no longer be able to push himself up to exhale. Instead, Jamin concentrated on the order to remove the bodies from the crosses as a blessing. Letting the corpse slowly disintegrate in public view was the epitome of scorn. A new thought occurred to him. If Demas had not surrendered himself when Yeshua said he needed to face the consequences of his crimes, he would have missed the high Sabbath. His body would have been left on the cross until it rotted away.

Lucius snatched the hammer from Falto and faced Adas. “Shall I finish the job for you, Centurion?” Lucius waited as he cradled the hammer in his hands.

Adas fixed a cold stare at Lucius. “Do you think I have never killed a man? I assure you, I have. What of it? It’s easy to take a life. The other thing is much more difficult.”

“What other thing?”

“To put life back into the dead.”

“Those tales are just superstitious rumors.”

“Perhaps, but what if on the third day, Yeshua does come back to life? Such a thing would change the world.”

Lucius curled his lip in disgust. “I don’t pay attention to the ranting of idiots and zealots. Anyone can say anything. It means nothing.”

Adas turned his attention back to the two thieves. “I find it disgraceful to kill a man who can’t defend himself. Since you’re holding the hammer, apparently you don’t mind, Legionary.” He was surprised to see Lucius’s face turn pale. Adas had unintentionally struck a nerve. He pressed the advantage as he eyed the scar on the legionary’s face. “So tell me, why did someone leave his signature on your face.”

Without warning, the memory of killing his own father possessed Lucius. He could still feel the gut-wrenching dread when they dragged Rufino Octavean into the arena, tied him to a post, and claimed he was caught stealing. Training Officer Junio thrust a spear in Lucius’s hands and ordered the eleven-year-old to execute the thief on the spot. Lucius begged his father to explain, but he remained silent. Rufino stood very still, watching Lucius with an expression the boy could not understand. The look on his father’s face would haunt Lucius for the rest of his life. When Lucius hesitated, the training officer shouted, “Octavean, I have given you a direct order! If you can’t obey then you are no use to me!” Lucius saw a blur of motion and a savage pain ran down the side of his face. He flinched, but held on to the spear. Again, Junio raised his dagger. “Obey me! Kill the thief or I’ll kill both of you!”

Just as quickly as the image had risen in his mind, it was gone. “Yes, I did a very brave thing when I earned this scar. I killed a thief. I obeyed my orders, as I will now.” Lucius stepped up to the central cross and hefted the hammer to his shoulder.

“Stop,” ordered Adas. “Not him. He’s already dead. He has been for hours.” Lucius lowered the hammer and peered into Yeshua’s still face.

Demas called out, “He guards all His bones; not one of them is broken.”

Jamin heard his brother, again, quote from Psalms. He whispered, “Like the lamb of Passover, the bones must never be broken.”

“I don’t care if he is dead,” said Lucius as he grabbed a spear. “Our orders were to make sure he’s dead so no one can question it later.” He faced the central cross and stepped forward. Suddenly, his face drained of color. He stumbled backwards and dropped the spear as if it were on fire. Lucius stared at something no one else could see. Someone was standing between him and the Nazarene’s cross. What he saw was impossible in so many ways.

“Octavean, what is the matter with you?” demanded Adas.

Hektor and Falto watched in bewilderment. The two men exchanged glances, silently confirming each was witnessing the same thing. Adas looked at the center cross, but nothing had changed. Thinking Lucius was in a fugue, Adas slapped him across the face.

“What is wrong with you?” Adas demanded again. Lucius didn’t answer. With no patience left, Adas hit him with a fist. Lucius staggered back and shook himself as if from a trance.

Adas picked up the spear, spun around, and thrust it deep into the Nazarene’s side. Immediately blood and water came out from the wound. There was no reaction from the lifeless body. Adas threw the spear to the ground and wheeled on the men. “Do you see this? You’ve seen it hundreds of times. That’s how we know a prisoner has died during the night. They always bleed water and blood from the heart when they’ve been dead for hours. He died right before the earthquake.”

Hektor muttered, “So, our fearsome lion cringes at stabbing a dead man.”

Overhearing the comment and desperate to save face, Lucius turned on him. The glazed look was gone. A silver fire had rekindled in the man’s eyes. “Watch yourself, Hektor. I have killed others for much less.”

Adas pulled a second wineskin from his knapsack filled with strong wine and herbs. He gestured at the older thief. “Octavean, give him some wine.” Then Adas addressed Jamin in Hebrew, “When he’s done, give your brother as much as he wants. It is potent wine. We will wait for it to take effect before we break their legs.”

Jamin didn’t try to hide his surprise. “You brought this wine for them, not yourself. Is it because Demas confessed?”

“No, they have already suffered enough.”

The three legionaries were barely able to hide their scorn. They kept their expressions neutral only because of the possibility of punishment, but they saw the centurion’s compassion as weakness. Lucius was beginning to understand the hatred Valentius had for Longinus.

Adas looked beyond his men and saw the agony of the women who stood clutching each other. They made him think again of his own mother. His last two letters to her had gone unanswered, yet nothing came from his father warning him of accident or illness. It was possible her letters were lost en route. He needed to be patient. Despite his self-assurances, his stomach twisted with a sudden knowledge that he would never see her again. All the ways he could be killed paraded through his mind. Lucius’s belligerent behavior could be based on orders from someone else, which meant he had a more powerful enemy. Life was unpredictable. His own men could turn on him and it wouldn’t matter if they were executed. He would be dead.