Sinner by Garry Harman

Publisher’s Note and Disclaimer:
This work of fiction reflects the views, interpretations, and creative choices of the author alone. Any depictions of historical figures, cultures, religions, or events are presented for narrative purposes and do not represent the views or positions of the publisher. Readers who find specific elements of the story objectionable are invited to share their concerns with the publisher, identifying the passages in question, so they may be reviewed respectfully and thoughtfully.

Sinner by Garry Harman

Jerusalem During Passover in the days of Jesus

Day Two Of Passover

Zoathan was awake on the sleeping mat in his small hut in the lower city of Jerusalem. He faced the mud brick wall lit only by a small fire in the next room. It was still dark, but by the sounds of his wife, Bethum, making matzah for breakfast, dawn would soon arrive. Sabbath had ended the previous evening, so it was a workday, even though it was Passover. His Jewish self preferred to eat later, but he was expected at his place of employment early. Pilgrims, in Jerusalem for Passover, filled the streets and their waking noises began to drift in through the open window above his head. Suddenly he was wide awake, feeling a presence at his back. Slowly he rolled over to see his small daughter staring impassively at him. Zoathan loved his daughter, Allia, but he never seemed to be able to penetrate the wall she erected around herself. Though only five years of age, she seemed so much older. His own daughter should not be making him feel so uneasy. He forced a smile. “Good morning, little one.”

“Mother says to eat breakfast.” Before he could reply, she turned on her heels and padded into the back room which served as kitchen and the center of homecraft. Was she giving him a modicum of privacy or dismissing him? He threw off the thin bed covering and moved to a corner out of sight of the other room. There he slipped off his sleeping robe and donned his day attire. Looking around, still half asleep, he shuffled into the back room. “Bethum, my sandals, have you seen them?”

His wife turned impatiently, “You think they walked away? By the door, where you left them.” He must still be groggy. Of course, by the door. She caught his sleeve as he started to turn, “Do not worry with sandals now. Wash your face and hands and sit for breakfast.” Her big eyes had softened and caught the glint of the cooking fire. A warm feeling flickered between them, then she pushed him to the water jug on a small table in the corner.

He ceremoniously washed his face and dried on a cloth conveniently placed by the jug. Turning, he saw the eating mat was down and the matzah placed on a dish beside a cup of water at his usual place. His daughter was already seated, waiting for him to attend. Her eyes were hungry, so he offered a quick prayer.
 As they ate, Bethum busied herself with kitchen chores. At length, he beckoned for her to sit, which she did reluctantly. This in no way inhibited her conversation. “I packed for you a mid-day meal.” She glanced at a small basket off to the side and Zoathan smiled. His life had not been a rousing success, but he had the love of a good and rather pretty woman. “I do not wish that you eat Egyptian food at Amtep’s place of business.”

She referred to Amtep the dyer, Zoathan’s employer. Most people did personal cloth dying at home, but Amtep serviced the upper city folk, and those even higher. He was an Egyptian and had no business lording his dyeing skills over the Jews of Jerusalem. Though Noathan’s salary was small, without Amtep, he and his small family would have no bread at all. He hated Amtep for that, and he hated himself for his lack of prosperity. There was little fairness in this world!

What Bethum really meant was that she did not want Zoathan to eat with Nefferak, Amtep’s lovely daughter. Nefferak was not like Jewish women. Her eyes were bold and when she walked it reminded Zoathan of a snake slowly undulating toward prey. She was dangerous, wonderfully so.

Light was now streaming through the window as was the din of thousands of Jews in Jerusalem for Passover. “I should leave, now,” mumbled Zoathan. He arose quickly and headed toward his sandals and the door; afraid she could hear his thoughts.

“Than!”

He turned with a jerk and saw Bethum holding out the meal basket. “Thank you, yes, the basket,” showing his gratitude.

As he took his meal, she bent her head to his chest and said into it, “You are an honorable man and a good husband.” She guided him out the door and closed it gently.

Zoathan walked at a quick pace, skipping as he tried to get both his sandals on at the same time. He took a last look back and saw Allia staring blankly out of the window at his diminishing form. He waved, but her eyes betrayed nothing. Then she was gone.

& & &

Of a sudden, Gesham was beside him, mimicking his skip gait. Zoathan stopped abruptly, worming his feet at last into his sandals. “You must think I exist for your amusement,” he said a bit hotly.

“Verily, there are times, old friend,” Gesham smirked. Most men would take great offence, but Zoathan had known Gesham since childhood and was used to his harmless jabs.

He was unlike typical Jewish men that Zoathan knew. Gesham was neither pious nor hard working. He seemed to have no permanent occupation, yet always had glittering coin when needed. Furthermore, he might disappear for many days running, then reappear like a sprouting weed. When asked about his comings-and-goings, he only smiled or answered in some smooth-spoken manner. Zoathan had stopped asking. He did know one thing about Gesham. Gesham was a friend, perhaps his only friend. “Whatever you want, Gesham, the answer is I cannot.”

Gesham was undeterred. “And why not, my friend? I only ask that you allow me to help you avoid having to work for that glutton, Amtep, today.”

Zoathan almost stumbled as they jostled their way through the crowd on the way to the dyer’s establishment. “What! Most honorable Jews work to provide! I cannot refuse to work, especially right after Sabbath!”

“I say you can, if it is to watch Pontius Pilatus triumphantly enter into Jerusalem! It is the duty of all loyal Roman subjects to do so!”

“Amtep will NOT agree,” retorted Zoathan.

“Oh, but he will, my unimaginative friend! No one cows to the Romans more than that fat dyer! Wealthy Romans empty their purses for the purple cloth.” Gesham was smiling in triumph. Before Zoathan could object again, he advised, “Just remind that old Egyptian mummy that all loyal Roman subjects should witness the procession. He will bear you there on his shoulders!”

It was true that Pilate made a glorious show of entering Jerusalem during Passover with a horde of intimidating soldiers and flashing cavalry. A strong reminder of who was in command and what might happen if the swelling crowds were to grow riotous. “Gesham, why do we want to see those Romans trying to make us feel small?”

“Not we, my friend, me. You have another duty this day. I need for you to go to the Temple and observe the Roman Fortress while the procession is happening and after.”

“You are mad!” Zoathan bellowed. “I cannot be caught spying on the Romans!”

“Not so loud,” Gesham said seriously. “I did not say spying, indeed, just innocent watching. The Temple is crowded with pilgrims. You will not even be noticed. A better plan…mount the colonnade on the south wall and hide behind the meeting halls on top. Just lean against the east end of the hall and peek around the corner at the fortress. You will look like an ant from the fort, but an ant that can see any change in activity on the fortress roof. Simple!” He emphasized his words with a sharp rap on Noathan’s forehead.

“All right! Stop hitting me!” They were close to the Egyptian’s dyeing business now, nearer the Upper City. “Had not you better get on to the Western Gate to see our illustrious governor?”

“Yes. I will meet you at the Temple, later. Let your eye be sharp.” With that, Gesham managed to melt into the crowd. Zoathan walked swiftly now to the dyeing business. As he rubbed his head, a sudden vision! Nefferak!

 & & &

Amtep’s daughter was fumbling at the lock of the dyeing house door. She wore the same type of garment as did other women in Jerusalem, but more colorful and made of some different fabric. It clung to her like oil. She turned abruptly at his approach.

“Zoathan! You are early today. Enter.” She thought nothing of being alone with a man who was neither her husband nor relative. They both threw open the windows, letting Jerusalem in. “Please go about your duties. I will be in the accounting room.” Was that an invitation? Not likely.

Other workers began to filter in, and the dyeing slowly began. Zoathan no longer actually dyed, but rather assured that the supply of dyes and cloth were not under or overstocked. He also did the delicate mixing of the various dyes.

Suddenly Amtep, his employer, her father, appeared before him as if summoned by a magician. The dyer was somewhat short, with an expansive girth. Well fed. He stared at the red spot, administered by Gesham, on Zoathan’s forehead but said only, “So you are here today at the appointed hour! Very noteworthy. I trust we are well supplied for the workday?” Like Nefferak, his Aramaic was flawless.

“Assuredly, noble Amtep. All is in balance and that being true,” his voice only quavered a little, “I wish to greet our Roman governor as he enters the city this day.” His employer’s face clouded, the finely trimmed beard twisted. “You would abandon your work?”

Zoathan’s head grew warm as he tried to remember the words of Gesham. “All loyal Roman subjects should bear witness to the procession…yes?” At this, Amtep’s narrow eyes grew wide.

“Loyal Roman subjects? Yes, yes, as we all are! You go ahead. I will follow, presently.” Zoathan bowed slightly and was out the door like a bird out of its cage. He had gone only a few steps when Amtep’s head jutted out of the door opening. “If I am asked after, say I will soon be in attendance!” Zoathan bowed again, turned and increased his pace. Who would be asking him anything?

& & &

As planned, Zoathan did not go to the western gate but to the Temple complex. He entered nervously through the lower west corner and up the stairs to the top of the roofed colonnade that formed the south wall of the Temple. There, a meeting hall stood atop the length of the colonnade. He was not sure at all if he should be here, but there were many others about, so he calmed himself and slowly walked behind the meeting hall that blocked his view of the tall Fortress at the opposite corner of the Temple courts. That was his choice. If he couldn’t see the soldiers, they couldn’t see him. At length he reached the end of the hall and turned the corner toward the Temple courts below, proceeding to the next corner. From there he could see the Fortress, with ramparts looking down on the Temple and the surrounding area. Gesham was right! Looking up, he had a full view, but they could only see a sliver of a man far away.

From his vantage point he also took in the broad, sunken court of the Gentiles below and at its center, the actual Temple, sacrificial smoke rising on the breeze. He did not feel right looking at this holiest of places. Zoathan had only begun to really ponder what exactly he was doing there when shouting and cheering reached his ears from outside the colonnade that formed the east wall bounding the court. Many pilgrims were atop the columned wall level with where he stood. They began to shout hosanas and throw flowers and palm fronds over the edge, outside of the Temple. His curiosity stirred, he left the cover of the meeting hall and ventured along the open east wall for a better view.

Down below, he saw a multitude preceding a small group of men just mounting the bridge to the Temple from the Mount of Olives. One was riding on a young donkey. The rest walking beside him in a loose, protective ring. This must be the preacher from Galilee he had heard so much about. A miracle worker. The Messiah?

The crowd was rapturous with cheering and praising, throwing robes and palm fronds down on the path in front of the donkey. Remembering his mission, he glanced at the Fortress and to be sure, many soldiers were gathered on the parapeted roof, responding to the clamor below from their elevated vantage point. Did they think this was Pilate’s procession? More like a mockery of it.

He looked back at the procession below and was startled to see the preacher looking up directly at him! A shock ran through him from heel to head! It passed, but there was suddenly no strength in his legs. Zoathan sank to his knees, trembling. Others around him stared, then began to scatter. He saw why. Temple guards were advancing rapidly in two columns along the top of the wall from the north. They marched in perfect precision. Their metal-shod sandals stomping in unison as they approached menacingly, their lacquered black armor gleaming in the sun. Zoathan struggled to his feet, trying to get out of the way, but they were upon him. The guard nearest him lashed out with his shield. It flew up as swiftly as a striking serpent and caught him full in the face, sending him reeling again to his knees. Now he knew for certain he should not be here. Then darkness.

& & &

It was later. Sometime later. Someone was staring down on him and shouting. “Was watching the Fortress so tiring you felt the need to rest?” Such scoffing words could only come from Gesham. As Zoathan’s vision cleared, his suspicions were confirmed. Gesham’s leering face filled his senses.

“Than, Than! Wake up my friend, you can’t sleep all day.” Rough hands helped Than to his feet. The world spun alarmingly, but Gesham held him firm. At length, dizziness gave way to pain. His head felt like it was in a forge. Gesham used his sleeve to wipe blood from his friend’s face. “Did you try to take on the might of Rome by yourself?”

“No. Temple guards brushed me aside like a fly while I was…distracted.” Suddenly, Zoathan was angry! His hands waved furiously at the air. “This is your doing! Why can you not just leave me alone?”

“What is done cannot be undone,” Gesham shrugged. “Calm yourself and be glad your injuries are slight.”

Zoathan was not mollified. “Slight?! How do I explain this to Bethum?”

Gesham answered with his usual glibness. “These are violent days.” His voice trailed off as he finished with Than’s face. “There! Your nose appears to be a bit larger, but that is all.”

Before there could be more complaining, Gesham probed: “Now, what happened atop the Fortress?”

Gesham’s eyes were cold. Zoathan decided to answer despite the thickness of his voice. “Nothing to see, until the preacher from Galilee arrived with a multitude of admirers who lavished praise over him like he was Tiberius. That stirred the Romans in the Fortress. Then the Temple bullies knocked me down. Remembering the preacher’s effect on him, “Is the Galilean still here?” He craned to see the Temple.

Gesham waved, “He is gone, as we should be. Come calmly and I will walk you home.”

Day Three Of Passover

Morning came early, but Zoathan was not late to work, though he wanted to be. Bethum was both angry and concerned. He left his job to go see Pilate? Unbelievable! Yet the wound was there and she treated it. Than was not one to get into fights, but she sent him on his way that morning with a stiff warning to stay out of trouble. That and a tender kiss on his nose.

 His nose was swollen and blue as were both eyes. He felt sick, but dared not miss another day of employment. He was unsure if there would be enough money to pay for his family’s lodging, now or in the future.

At the dyer’s, Amtep was the first to greet him, eyeing his colored face. “Zoathan! No wonder you did not return yesterday. I do not think of you as a fighter, but I suppose you are after all! How does fighting honor our illustrious governor who you helped welcome into our city yesterday?” Amtep was indeed suspicious. He began to doubt that Zoathan was ever at Pilate’s procession.

Haltingly, Zoathan answered, “I was too close. Someone jostled me from behind and I ended up in the way. The Roman soldiers knocked me down.” He pointed weakly at his face.

“Soooo…I hope your senses are clear. We have a new task for you this day. Go see Nefferak. She is in the back room. Be quick!” Zoathan made his way to the back of the dye works and knocked on the door leading to the small room.

“Enter.” It was Nefferak’s voice. He slowly opened the door to see her at a table going over some unintelligible accounts. She looked up with a start. “This I never thought I would behold!” She pushed her chair back with a clatter and readily approached him. Though she never touched him, her fingers hovered about his face, having the effect of turning it from side to side. “I only hope your opponent fared no better!” With that, she spun and reseated herself, leaning back slightly.

Feeling her question, he mumbled, “One of Pilate’s soldiers knocked me to the ground.” She said nothing. “I approached the procession and…got in the way.” Her eyes widened. “You were not celebrating Passover with too much wine? Instead, you were in combat with the Romans!” She smiled broadly with amusement. In that moment, any affection for her wafted away. She was mocking him. He felt like a discarded, threadbare robe.

Waving her hand, she continued, “Let us speak of more advantageous matters.” She motioned to another chair. Zoathan did not want to sit, but he was feeling weak again. When their eyes were level, “First, are we in good supply for the next few days?” He nodded yes. “Good. You will then have time for another charge. You are familiar with all our dyes, including the one that makes the purple.” She said “purple” as a cat might say it. Again, he nodded.

“Our purple is good, rich, and long lasting. Unfortunately, the makings are very difficult to obtain, it leans the profits. If we could mix inferior ingredients to make purple, it would blossom into greater yields, even if the color is not exactly perfect. If we could make the purple…less dear to produce…” She let her words hang between them. When he did not reply, she went on, “The increased gain would be a boon to all of us!” By all, Zoathan knew she meant herself and her father. Sharing was not their way. Besides, if the ruse was discovered, they would have a Jew to take the blame. She continued: “My father and I have tried, but…nothing. With your knowledge of dyes…”

This time he replied, “The effort will require acquiring new stocks. It will cost money.”

“No doubt.” Impatience began to roughen her silky voice. “Behold.” With that, Nefferak slid a hidden panel aside in the desk and hefted out a metal clad box. She opened it to reveal a hoard of gold and silver coins.

Noathan realized he was looking at more wealth than he ever seen in one place, aside from at the tax collector or at the Temple. There was no Temple money here, but precious metal from all over the Roman Empire. He reached out to touch it, darting a glance at Nefferak. She nodded slightly and he slowly dug his fingers into the cold treasure. She let him indulge himself, then, “Can you make a new purple as good as the old?”

He was sure he could not, but said, “There is but one way to know, Nefferak.”

Day Four Of Passover

In the next morning at Amtep’s, Zoathan pretended to prepare some likely dyes, then begged permission to visit the market for more supplies. His request was granted and he went his way with a small bag of coins at his sash.

His anger was hot! The preceding day, when Zoathan made as if to assume his new labor, Nefferak had suggested that success would grant him “enthralling honors.” This she said while moving her face close to his, then snapping the coin box shut and replacing it in its hiding place. She was trying to seal the bargain with her womanliness. Another lie. She would find that Zoathan was not a mouse to be batted about by an Egyptian feline.

At home, Bethum was as bedeviling with her constant queries about his face. It felt better now after her ministering, but she was clearly mistrustful of his explanations. Women! They closed in from all sides! But soon, all ills would be quieted.

 & & &

He found himself before the market tavern where Gesham had his current living quarters. His eyes darted to a window high above, then he entered and ascended to the second level. He knocked at Gesham’s door only to be rudely dismissed. Having no success, he slipped a coin from his pouch and rolled it on edge under the door. Nothing. Then the door flew open suddenly revealing a bedraggled Gesham. He smiled weakly. “You are welcome, and I see you are not alone,” as he held the coin aloft. “Don’t stand out there gawking, come in, close the door.”

Zoathan did as he was bid. The room was tiny, but there were two stools, Gesham settled on one and gestured at the other. Still staring at the coin, “You have come on some…business?” Seating himself shakily, “Yes. Good business, if you are willing.”

Gesham: “Righteous business?”

“No,” Zoathan said hesitatingly. Then all-of-a-sudden: “Justifiable!”

Gesham looked a bit perturbed. “Well, my good friend, spit it out. I grow old waiting.”

Zoathan took a deep breath. “It is this simple, the Egyptians are trying to deceive their customers, and they want me to cooperate.” Gesham spread his hands, inviting more. “They are willing to pay much for the fraud, but I am unwilling and distrustful of them. Still, I am in need of those coins they offer.”

“As are we all,” Gesham sighed. “Your story is interesting. Let me see if I can jump ahead. You wish to have the coins without being a part of the dyer’s deception or part of a theft and without being blamed for either. Yes?” Zoathan nodded. “You need Gesham to do the actual stealing, it is stealing, you agree?” He did not wait for an answer. “What is your part in this sin?”

Zoathan winced. Surely it was not a sin to steal from swindlers. “I have brought this opportunity to you and I know where the coins are. Also, I can let you in after the workers have gone for the day.”

“Are you a fool?” Gesham slipped fluidly off the stool and onto his sleeping mat. After placing is arm behind his head, “You can have no active part lest the Egyptians know of your involvement.” He glanced at his old friend. What of the male Egyptian?”

“He leaves early. The daughter, Nefferak, stays to tally the day’s accounts,” Zoathan proudly proclaimed. He had his facts in order.

“Just so,” Gesham mumbled. He said nothing for a moment. “Is there not some innocent reason you could return to the dyers after you and the other workers depart?”

“No doubt. I will think of something.

“What something?” There was a grating in his voice. Gesham wanted no mysteries in the plan.

Thinking furiously, his face brightened. “I know! I can leave my meal basket behind and come back to retrieve it!” He looked for approval in Gesham’s face.

“Yes, yes, that will do. You said you knew where the money is kept?” He turned the gold coin repeatedly in pleasurable examination.

Zoathan went on, “It is kept in a back room, at the end of a long hallway opposite the front entrance.” Again, he was pleased at his accurate recollection.

Still playing with the coin, eyes closed: “When she opens the door for you, I will burst in and force the both of you into that back room. There, I will convince the queen of the Nile to reveal the hoard’s hiding place.” He was clearly composing as he went. “Then, after binding the both of you hand and mouth, I will depart with the gold into the night. Tomorrow, we meet at this humble abode and divide the treasure. Simple!”

Zoathan did not think so but basically agreed. “When shall we meet on the morrow? I would not want to arrive here and find you…absent.”

Gesham sat up right and wagged his finger accusingly. “I have my own reasons for stealing from the Egyptians, but I have no reason for stealing from a lifelong friend.” He was clearly a little hurt.

Zoathan went on quickly, “And with the money gone, there will be no funds to support Nefferak’s deceptive scheme! I will be free of that and her…after I resign from that odious place!”

“I do believe you are getting into the spirit of this enterprise,” Gesham snorted as he effortlessly leapt back on the stool. They both laughed and pounded each other on the shoulders. The pact was made.

& & &

Later that day at Amtep’s dyeing business, the hour was growing late. Amtep himself had already gone home and Nefferak began supervising the shutting down of the dye vats. Other workers brought in the drying racks adorned with brightly colored fabrics. Zoathan was nervously putting up dye jars. He was having second thoughts about the intended robbery. Had he lost his sanity? He was no criminal, at least not yet! Gathering his will, he moved towards the front door and made to leave.

“Zoathan.” He jumped at Nefferak’s deep voice right behind him. “Leaving? What progress today?”

He turned. “Progress, yes. I am on a very promising path, now.” His voice carried barely a hint of tremor.

One highly blackened eyebrow rose slightly. “You could stay for a while and enlighten me?”

“I cannot. Must get home. My…child is ill.”

“Very well,” she said, somewhat confused and a little disappointed. “But henceforth, I expect detailed accounts from your lips at the end of each day. Yes?”

“Yes, of course, Nefferak. At the end of each day, surely.” With that he scurried out the door, making sure he was the last to go, aside from Nefferak.

It was nearly dusk and Gesham was nowhere to be found. Zoathan walked around aimlessly until he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Turning with a start, there was Gesham, grinning. “Ready to do the deed, old friend? You look somewhat shaky.”

Zoathan calmed himself. “I am ready, are you?” Gesham did not answer, but gestured in the direction of the dyers. They walked together to the door. Gesham hid along the wall, then jerked a thumb at the entrance.

“Neffer…” Croaking, he only got it partially said. Gesham looked around then put his hand on Noathan’s arm, nodding encouragement. “Nefferak. It is I, Zoathan. Open up, please. I left my meal basket.”

Presently the door creaked open narrowly, showing one eye of a surprised face. “So, you did come back. Good. Please enter.”

As he did so, he felt like a charging bull had hit him in the back. Falling inward, he toppled the girl and they both went down in a tangled heap. Struggling furiously, they both found their feet only to see Gesham standing inside the now latched door, his eyes flashing in the lamp light. Another flash came from a knife that had magically grown from the big, right hand. “Well, well, what have we here?” Before anyone could answer, he was behind the girl with his other hand over her mouth and the knife depressing the smooth skin under her jaw. Just as suddenly, Zoathan saw the knife tip appear right between his own eyes. He was terrified. Was this part of the plan?

“You!” Gesham hissed. “There is money here to be sure. Tell me where or…” He returned the sharp blade to the girl’s neck. Zoathan pointed shakily to the back-room door at the end of the hall. Gesham put his mouth close to Nefferak’s ear. With clenched teeth, “I know you want to scream for help, but if you do, I’ll slit that sweet throat and pull your tongue out through the gash! Nod slowly if you understand.” She did so, trembling. A tiny drop of blood formed at the knife’s edge.

“Now that we all in agreement…” He looked at Zoathan again. “You! Go before us and unlatch yonder door and be so, so quiet. After we are inside, latch it again. Understand?” Zoathan obeyed as the three of them ambled to the door and into the accounting room. As they entered, Gesham roughly threw Nefferak into a chair by the desk. Then pointing the knife at Zoathan and the door, “Latch it, I say!” The Egyptian took the opportunity to draw breath for a scream. Snapping his other arm like a whip, Gestas gave her a vicious backhand across the mouth, spraying blood.

“Gesham!” Zoathan shouted impulsively. He had not foreseen Nefferak being hurt. The other two shot a stare at him and for a moment, silence. Then everyone shouted at once:

“Sorry. Sorry!”

“You fool!”

“You two each know the other!”

The chaos ended when Gesham struck Nefferak again, harder. This time her head lolled and came to rest on the table. Pulling her head up by the hair, he saw her eyes were closed, but she was breathing evenly. Not seriously harmed.

Rapidly, he cut off her waist sash and used it to bind her to the chair. Then, her scarf was whipped away, a knot tied at the middle, placed over her mouth, and tightly secured behind her neck. More blood issued from her damaged lips. Then he turned on Zoathan. “Idiot! It was going just as planned and you…you!”

“Sorry. So sorry!” Zoathan hid behind his hands. “I don’t know why I blurted out your name! Don’t know why.”

Gesham cooled somewhat. “Because you were taken by surprise at her being hurt. My fault. Should have warned you that might be a necessity. You may not be as angry at her as you once thought.”

Zoathan’s hands came down. His cheeks were wet as he said, “What can we do now? She knows we are together in this. She knows your name!” A look of horror shadowed his face. “You will not kill her, will you?”

“Kill her? No, my blade is meant for more patriotic work, she is but a greedy woman. Quickly now. Let us complete our task and be away before we are discovered. Where is the gold?” Not wanting to endure any more sniveling, he emphasized the request by violently throwing his dagger into the wooden tabletop where it stuck with a loud twang.

His old friend began to try to find the false panel, but Gesham was impatient. He kicked at the desk until one panel broke, revealing the box within. “There…” He was no longer angry, but smiling broadly. The lid was off in a trice, coins glimmered in the flickering lamps. With efficiency, Gesham gathered the bounty and spilled it into two of several leather pouches lying on the table. One he attached to his sash and the other to his friend’s middle.

“Yours appears heavier,” Than observed.

Gesham s agreed, “A heavy purse, a happy life! Yes? You cannot be trusted with a full half the way you are now. Let’s join the crowd outside before she returns to this world.”

“Yes, just two more pilgrims. I must go home to Bethum,” said Zoathan, soberly.

Gesham threw him down hard on the table. “You what! The Romans will be there as well just as soon as your fair employer is found! She knows where you live and finding you there will mean the rest of your days will be spent as a slave! THAT is what will happen unless…” he plucked his dagger from the table…”unless you let me silence her now!”

“NO! No killing, please! I will do whatever you wish.” He was clearly shaken. His body trembled.

Putting his hands gently on the frightened man’s shoulders, Gesham said quietly, “I do not think you know what to do, Than. Trust in me. I will guide you and all will be well. Do you believe me?” Than nodded wobblily. “Good! Then let us be away. Dawn will come soon enough and we must be a distance before she is found in the morning.”

They left the back room. Gesham gave it a final scrutiny, then went about blowing out the lamps. Zoathan followed this example and clumsily extinguished the lights in the work room. Together they eased the door open. There were people about, but they had their own business to attend to.

Securing the door, the two walked innocently in silence for some time as dusk gathered. “Where are we going,” mumbled Zoathan.

“My room,’’ was the short answer. “We will divide the harvest equally when I see that you are yourself.”

Zoathan already had control of his senses again. He hissed, “Is that not as dangerous as my home?”

“They know me not as Gesham at the market tavern,” the dagger-carrying accomplice said lightly. Zoathan wondered how many names his old friend had.

& & &

The sun was down now, and lamps began to glow in the stalls and from windows along the way. The streets were abustle with people, each with their song to sing. Zoathan came to a decision. Picking his moment, he suddenly broke away and darted through the crowd. Calling over his shoulder, “I’ll meet you at your dwelling, later!” Gesham made as if to follow, but his friend was gone.

Speaking only to himself: “I know where you are going. I will not wait long.” He walked steadily along until finding a meat vendor, then purchased a small roasted creature on a stick and continued, munching contentedly. Feeling the bulging purse at his hip, he mused that life just might be improving, if that fool Than did not succeed in getting him thrown into prison…or worse.

Zoathan moved methodically through the lower city until his home drew near. At the last corner, he peaked furtively around the edge and surveyed the street, amazingly well lit by house lamps. No soldiers. All was quiet aside the crying of some pilgrim children. Taking a deep breath, he strode confidently around the corner and straight to his door. There he hesitated again, but entered.

Bethum and Allia were arranging food plates around the eating mat. They both started at his sudden entrance. “You, my husband, are late,” Bethum said with a smirk. The smirk dropped like a stone when she saw the look of anguish on his face. Quickly he wrestled her to her knees on the mat.

Holding her tightly by the shoulders, he let all his sin flow out: “I have stolen from Amtep this day! I have sinned!” Quickly, so as to maintain his courage, he related the whole account, leaving out only the name of his fellow sinner. “I was not to be caught…but Nefferak knows my guilt!” He raised her to her feet, gripping her all the tighter. “She will send soldiers here on the morn or sooner. I must not be here! You and Allia must not be here! To be captured is to be enslaved or something as evil!”

She drew a breath, but he overspoke her: “You and Allia will go to your mother’s house in Bethany tonight. The Egyptians know nothing of your connection to that place. The road will be full of worshipers. You will be safe. I will meet the both of you there before sundown next.”

He then felt a pressure around his leg. Looking down, he saw Allia hugging him about the knee. Had she ever done that before? His heart broke as surely as if it were dropped from the heights of the Fortress. He bent slowly to one knee and brushed a stray hair from her face. Looking intently in her eyes, “Allia, I love you as I love life! You know that, yes?” She nodded slowly, tears in her eyes. “I will need for you to take care of your mother until I join you both on the morrow. Can you do that, little one?” Again, she nodded solemnly.

Then he was all fire! Standing quickly, he again stopped Bethum short. “Gather whatever you value and prepare to flee, not that there is much of value, here!” Remembering the money, he spilled the contents of the bag into his wife’s trembling hands. “Here is more than enough to start anew, and there is much more to come! We will have a new life away from the Egyptians and their ravening plots!”

Then, a new fear gripped him. “Bethum, dearest, will you still bemy wife, knowing now I am truly a sinner?”

Able to speak at last, she replied through tears, “I still believe you are a good and righteous man. Whatever reasons you had to take this,” she looked down at her hands, “they were good reasons. Besides, whatever harm comes to the Egyptians, especially Nefferak, is probably not harm enough!”

With that, she turned and began briskly gathering up a few mementos of her life in Jerusalem and stuffed them into baskets. Allia helped and soon they assembled as much as was transportable by two strong women. Zoathan was satisfied. “I will accompany you through the city, but I must stay behind tonight and conclude my business. Then we all meet in Bethany.” Bethum did not question him. He was her husband.

It was not at all unusual to see three pilgrims carrying their goods through the city. They did not hurry yet kept a pace. They at last reached the east gate out of the city. Just beyond was the bridge crossing the Kidron Valley and the road through the Mount of Olives and eventually to sanctuary in Bethany. Zoathan took their baskets and laid them on the ground. He then picked up Allia so they could all hug as one. It was a long hug. Perhaps a bit unseemly in public, but no one seemed upset. He helped the two regain their baggage and watched as they joined a group of fellow travelers and disappeared into the darkness.

Noathan’s heart felt like a boat anchor as he trudged his way back through the gate. Something caught his eye leaning against the gatehouse wall. It was a tattered palm frond like the ones being used to carpet the way for that preacher some days ago. Was it days? Seemed like years. Trying not to appear suspicious, he made his way into the heart of Jerusalem and to the market tavern.

& & &

Looking up from the door of the tavern, he saw a light in Gesham’s window. His old friend was bold. Through the door and up the stairs, he tapped lightly on the door. It flew open suddenly and Zoathan was violently pulled in. Zoathan felt a hand over his mouth and Gesham’s sweaty face at his ear. “Don’t cry out, you fool! Be calm.” There was a moment when both men were breathing hard, then they relaxed.

The hand slipped from Zoathan’s mouth and Gesham spoke in low tones. “Sit by the stool and pray inform me just were you suddenly vanished to. No, never mind. You went back to your small family. I hope they are out of Jerusalem by now?” His eyebrows rose inquiringly.

Zoathan’s throat was dry, but he croaked, “Yes, they are safe. I will join them after you deliver the rest of my share.” He punctuated that last statement by shooting out his open hand. Gesham smiled slightly and tenderly folded his friend’s fingers back to cover the palm.

“Now, now. Do not be so quick and so greedy. I see by your empty pouch that you delivered unto Bethum the coins I already gave you.” His hands raised quickly to ward off Than’s objections. “Just as it should be, just so, and you are due more, very true. Give me your bag.” Gesham took his own leather pouch and spilled out coins onto the stool. Then with one eye on Zoathan’s pouch and the other eye on his old friend, he replenished the empty bag. “Do you now trust me, Than of my youth?”

Zoathan snatched the purse and was gratified with the weight. He spoke quickly, “I must go to my family. Luck to you, my friend.” But he was unable to rise. Gesham had him firmly by the arm.

“You ARE a fool!” This he hissed through tight lips. “Your Egyptian lover may have wriggled her way free by now. The Romans have no love for anyone save themselves, but they will search for us in any event, if only to give pretense of enforcing the law. Now, if our attractive victim were an upper-class Roman, they would close the whole city, Passover or not!”

Zoathan protested, “I must get to Bethum and Allia! They are alone!”

Gesham seemed able to read the thoughts of others. “Alone? You said they were out of the city. That means only one thing. Bethum’s mother in Bethany. Yes?” Not waiting for an answer, “They will be safe enough. Safer than us, likely.” Seeing the panic in his friend’s eyes, “They are securely away…unless you are seen and lead the authorities to them! Is that your desire?”

“No, of course not, but when…?” Zoathan’s face pleaded.

“The Roman pigs may perform a cursory search tonight and, in the daylight, to come. After that, they will have their hands full with the multitudes in the city. Egyptians can rot!” Gesham laughed, then hushed himself. When it gets dark tomorrow, it should be safe for you to rejoin your precious family.”

Zoathan slumped in defeat. “Very well, when the sunlight fails tomorrow, I go.”

Day Five Of Passover

They both slept through the night and most of the day, with occasional breaks to eat and argue. Towards twilight they stirred and prepared to go out. Zoathan blurted, “I go to join Betham and Allia, now.”

“You are like a new colt, ready to conquer the meadow,” said Gesham with some amusement. He peeked out of the small window. “Still too light. I will accompany you as far as the Temple.” He said it with a finality the brooked no disagreement. By the time they were both ready, the sun was preparing to set.

They slowly made their way from the market to the Temple through the darkening and crowded streets. The Temple within sight, Gesham suddenly stood tall to survey the oncoming throng. In an instant, he pulled Zoathan with him into an alley off the main street. Still peering around the corner to the street, he put a finger to his lips to gesture for silence. Zoathan was sure they were caught. He began to tremble.

Just then, Gesham reached out and snagged a passerby like a fisherman hauls in a fish. There was a brief struggle as Gesham clamped his hand over the man’s mouth and dragged him deeper into the dark alley. Releasing his prey, the other man angrily shouted: “If it is coin you want, I must disappoint you!”

By this time, Gesham was leaning casually against the opposite wall. “Judas, really. You disappoint? Never!” Judas crouched in a fighting stance, but unbent when he recognized his assailant.

“Gesham? Many days and nights have passed since we are met,” he said flatly. He glanced at Zoathan, then held his gaze on Gesham.

Before he could speak further, Gesham advanced on him a half step,”What is your progress with the preacher? Will he lead us?”

Judas answered slowly, eyes sidelong, “He is a man of love and peace…yet I think he will!”

“You think he will! What kind of soft-mouth answer is that?” Gesham moved quickly but Judas was quicker. Like lightning he was out of the alley and heading toward the Temple.

Over his shoulder he shouted: “He will because he will have to!” Then, only the crowd was there.

Looking up and down the street, Gesham was at last satisfied they had not attracted unwanted attention. Zoathan was all questions mixed with anxiety. He was frightened and

confused and angry all at once. “There, there, little brother, calm yourself. You are all right. I am all right.” He spread his hands as if to say “see?”

Zoathan was not placated. “Just who was that and what of this talk of the preacher? Are we not in enough difficulty now? He knew you! What plots are you hatching? I need to know!”

Gesham smiled, then answered, “That, old friend, is where you are wholly wrong. You do not, in truth, need to know. Knowing too much can put a man in great danger.” His last words had a slight edge to them which caused Zoathan to shrink back.

Catching him by the shoulders, Gesham, hugged his friend tight in a show of fondness. “Apologies. I see my words sounded a bit threatening.” He locked eyes with Zoatham. “Know this: no harm will ever come to you by my hand, Than of my youth. Still, my chance meeting with that man has changed our plans. My business in the old city is now more urgent, and you must accompany me. Your family must wait for the moment.”

Zoathan was furious, but kept his voice low, “You said you would take me to the gate that leads to the Bethany road!”

Gesham dragged his friend out of the alley and onto the street. His voice was also hushed, but he would brook no dispute, “I accompany you so you will not be caught. If you are caught, well, I will surely be caught shortly after.” He said this in a matter-of-fact, airy fashion. Zoathan knew at once that he was not completely trusted, and with probable good reason. Giving up, he merely asked where they were going.

“That is a most astute question,” Gesham said softly. “First, some supper, then back to the inn. There is much to do and time gets along.”

Day Six Of Passover

Zoathan missed dawn. He slept till almost midday when Gesham burst into the small room. He had bread and wine. Zoathan eyed the food and his partner indicated for the meal to begin. After they had their fill, Than asked, “When do I go to Bethany?”

“Bethany, Bethany! Is that all you think on?” Gesham’s answer was rude, but that was Gesham. He had consumed most of the wine. His old friend had not been totally remiss in this regard either. Gesham closed his eyes and mumbled: “After we conclude our business tonight, there ish nothing to hol you, he slurred.” Zoathan’s eyes were also heavy, but he was about to press his friend further when Gesham let out a loud snort and began snoring with vigor. Zoathan rolled over on his mat but could not sleep. Apprehension covered him like a foul blanket.

As darkness leveled, he raised Gesham who was surprisingly cooperative. Once again, they made to set out into an unfriendly city. Addressing Gesham: “I ask you again, friend, where are we going?”

“To the Old City,” answered Gesham plainly. “I have business there which, it would now seem, cannot wait. You have nothing to be concerned about. Your family is safe and you are with me. Are things not well aligned?” Zoathan thought things were well out of alignment.

The Old City was a warren of small streets and alleys, crisscrossing in disorienting ways. Zoatham did indeed stick close to his burly friend. He knew getting separated and lost in this dark place could have dire results. They moved cautiously, weaving a trail hard to follow. There were few pilgrims this far in, only thin men with hungry eyes.

At last, they stopped at a sullied inn and had a cold meal. Gesham rented a room and hustled his friend into it. “What now,” Zoathan protested. Gesham’s answer was curt: “You stay here and bar the door behind me. Open to no one…NO ONE…until I return! I go to scout our route.” He put up his hand to stifle any further discussion, then slipped away silently. The room was dark with the entrance shut and barred, the only light creeping in under the door. He felt around like a blind man and found a smelly straw mat in the corner. Laying down, he tried to make sense of the past few days, but could not. His head throbbed and as he closed his eyes, merciful sleep engulfed him.

 & & &

“You sleep more than any man I know!” It was Gesham, roughly waking his tired friend. Zoathan roused suddenly. His mind was murky but he was awake. “Get off me, you bull!”

“You show little appreciation for one who looks after you so well,” admonished Gesham. “Come, the hour is late, and we have more business this night.” Zoathan had given up asking questions. The sooner this business was concluded, the sooner he would be away to Bethany.

The two left the inn and began to wind their way through the cramped streets. Sometimes retracing their steps, sometimes ducking into alleys. After what seemed like an age, Gesham stopped in front of a nondescript door and knocked twice, then once, then twice again. Presently, the door opened a crack.

A raspy voice muttered from within, “Who disturbs an old man at this late time of the night?” Gesham said nothing but slipped a coin through the narrow opening. There was the noise of a chain rattling, then the door opened wide. “Come in, come in, the night air does my bones no favors.”

The two friends entered a small room lit by a single table lamp. The door closed quickly behind and they turned to see a spindly, ragged creature of a man. Short, but obviously agile, he brushed past the two and lifted the lamp high. “Gesham! I should have known. Come to do more business? And who is your companion, another murderer?”

Gesham moved and spoke quickly, “If you want to see murder, I can provide the spectacle!” His hand was around the old man’s neck, but not squeezing hard. Gesham grinned and began to chuckle, as did the old man. They suddenly embraced and laughed quietly.

“Good to see you, my dangerous friend,” said the short one. “So, who is this mysterious stranger? His eyes gleamed while gesturing at Zoathan.

“No matter to you nor your name to him. Shall we get down to dealing in your famous wares?”

“Yes, yes, of course. You are a busy man,” said the old one.

Gesham produced his coin bag and spilled the contents over the table. His weathered associate fairly jumped with joy at such a sight, deftly catching one coin that tried to roll off the table edge. He then became serious, “You want blades of the special kind like the one you undoubtedly have hidden beneath those flowing robes. How many?”

 “As many as this money will buy. Delivered to the customary place.” Zoathan gripped his own money pouch. Did Gesham mean to use Than’s money as well? Was that why he was really here?

“Very well,” the craftsman croaked, “but it cannot be done in a trice.” Gesham answered rapidly: “We may not have as much time as first assumed. The preacher is wavering.”

“Indeed,” his compatriot said as quickly. “He, that preacher, has already been captured by the Temple guards!”

“What,” exploded Gesham! “How do you know this thing?”

“Word of such occurrences comes trickling down to my humble hut, much as you have. Do you still desire the edge weapons?”

“Yes, yes, assuredly, but make haste! Where is the Galilean now? Wait, you said Temple guards…” His eyes closed briefly… “Caiphas. Then he must be with the high priest!”

“Little doubt,” confirmed the weapons monger. “You are brave, but headstrong. Be careful!”

Gesham grabbed Zoathan and rushed out the door. “Blessings on you, old father. You do your task and leave mine to me.” And with that, they were gone.

& & &

They had not gone far when Zoathan rooted himself to the spot. “I go no further until you confide in me your plans.” Gesham’s reply was without politeness: “We go to the house of Caiphas! You are delaying us!”

“Apologies, old friend, but I remain here, unless you want to carry me! What, exactly do you think you can do at Caiphas’s dwelling? It is well-nigh a fortress!”

Gesham was quivering with rage, but not at Than. He grew calm and confessed, “I don’t know what I can do. Nothing, I suppose. I just need to see what there is to see…like you on the Temple roof.” He punched Zoathan lightly on the shoulder.

Zoathan answered without mirth, “There will be guards at the home of the high priest just like at the Temple. I remember what happened there.” He touched his nose gently.

“Never fear old Than! I promise we will stay at a distance and provoke no quarrel with the guards. Could I be more fair to you?”

“Know this,” Than retorted, “When this affair with Caiphas has ended, I go to Bethany, with or without you!” Gesham could see that his childhood companion had reached the end of patience. He relented. “Very well, I promise.”

The streets were not crowded so late in the evening, so they were heedful of Romans as the two crossed the Outer Valley and penetrated the Upper City. Special care was given to passing through the defensive wall and then down to the house of Caiphas.

It was a little like a fortress, after all. There was a wall around the perimeter with a narrow gate which was wide open. Pilgrims were welcome even in the dark of night. The old friends slipped into what turned out to be a short tunnel. The other end was lit by a fire in the courtyard. The silhouette of a Temple guard barred the inner gate.

Zoathan said fearfully, “You will never get close enough to see anything. Let us be gone from this place!” Gesham did not reply, but edged closer.

Suddenly was a commotion by the fire. Angry shouts erupted. The guard, caught unawares, was pushed aside by a madman bursting into the tunnel. Than and Gesham flattened themselves against the tunnel walls as the berserker rushed past and out the other gate.

Several angry men were on his heels shouting, “He was with him…one of them!” They then stopped short, suspiciously eyeing the two against the wall. The leader made ready to continue the pursuit but gaped ahead and lowered his eyes, then backed off into the courtyard with his small gang. The gate clanged loudly.

Gesham and Zoathan exchanged quizzical looks, their eyes following where the men had been looking. A chill ran through Zoathan. Two Roman Legionaries were standing shoulder-to-shoulder between him and the outer gate. They were like a grim, fleshy wall staring coldly at the two Hebrews.

Abruptly, the one close to Gesham barked something in Latin. All of Jerusalem knew a little Latin, but Zoathan was too alarmed to comprehend. Gesham had more self-control. He smiled widely and spoke while gesturing with hands open. He attempted to innocently step between the rough soldiers, but the one addressing him reached out his big hand and pinned Gesham back against the wall. Again, Gesham shrugged in submissiveness, but in a flash, wriggled free and produced his knife! The weapon instantly became useless as the Roman’s other hand magically appeared around Gesham’s knife wrist. A slight twist, a cry of pain, and the blade clattered to the stone tunnel floor.

Zoathan at once realized that the Roman close to him had clamped a hand around his upper arm in a murderous grip. The arm felt like the Temple had fallen on it! Leisurely, the Roman bent down with his other hand and fetched the blade from the floor. He held it up between the two Romans, twisting it slightly. The legionaries exchanged glances, then the one who held Gesham delivered a vicious punch to his captive’s stomach. Gesham doubled over and went to his knees, vomiting and coughing. Fully subdued, Gesham was forced toward the outer gate and Zoathan found himself being dragged along. Realizing he was being blamed for Gesham’s rashness, he screamed in Hebrew: “I don’t know him! I don’t know him!” His cries mingled with the crowing of a rooster somewhere in the distance as a blood-red dawn broke on the city.

 Day Seven Of Passover

The trip to the fortress was merciless. The Roman dragging him along never let go of Zoathan’s arm or even lessened the iron grip. Gesham fell once and was promptly kicked to a standing position before being shoved ahead. Pilgrims turned away, the harshness of Roman rule on open display. Than lost track of time, but abruptly they were all climbing stairs and twisting through dank corridors until at last, an open area.

The room was long with soldiers at attention along the walls. There was a desk with an officer lounging in a chair behind it and beyond him, benches populated with civilians. One of them was Nefferak!

She leapt to her feet, pointing and screaming at the newcomers. “There they are! Those are the plunderers who robbed and beat me!” She moved toward the captives, but a guard restrained her.

The officer in charge was, it seems, moved to interest. He straightened himself in his chair and gestured the woman toward him. Nefferak again began her tirade, but a stern look silenced her. He inquired, “I didn’t say speak, did I?” Nefferak did not know how to reply, but decided to answer, “No sir,” in accented Latin.

“Very well, so these are the vile marauders you have pestered me about so mercilessly. Step back a bit.” He now motioned the prisoners forward. Their guards shoved them toward the desk but stayed close. “What have we here?”

The soldier holding Gesham shoved him aside and laid the knife and money pouches on the table. The officer was only interested in the knife. “Oh, we have seen these lethal little fellows before have we not?” He gingerly picked up the blade, toying with it. Addressing the soldier, “Did he,” nodding to Gesham, “presume to attack you with this?” The soldier saluted, “Yes, Magistrate.” “And this upright citizen?” The officer waved languidly at Zoathan. “No, Magistrate, but he was there, and these two are not strangers.” The Roman officer commanded coldly, “Move them away from me. I hate the smell of rebel vermin.”

With that, he signaled Nefferak to approach. “You say these men robbed you. What proof?” The Egyptian pointed in triumph at the bags, “See, noble one, the mark of Amtep the Dyer on the pouches?

In truth, the Roman did not recognize the marks, which were hieroglyphics. He elected to examine the contents and spilled a hill of coins on the table. He looked from the prisoners, to Nefferak, then at the coins, and came to a decision. “Know this,” he proclaimed authoritatively, “I believe you and find these men guilty. They will be punished and your money returned to you.” He produced an iron-bound box and deftly swept into it a portion of the coins. “After the proper taxes are levied.”

Nefferak gasped, her eyes angry, but she knew there was no recourse. Quickly scooping the last of the money into one of the bags, she bowed slightly and turned to go, then suddenly lurched to Zoathan and slapped him hard, hissing, “You could have had EVERYTHING! Now only the slave market!” With that, she made a brisk withdrawal before the Romans could react.

The officer was plainly surprised, but he only exclaimed, “That is a fiery one! Gods help the man who has the courage to wed and bed her.” As the other soldiers smiled, the Magistrate ordered the detainees thrown into a cell to await sentencing.

& & &

The cell they were thrown into was no more than a cage with stone above — to the back and below. They could see other prisoners through the iron bars down either side but made no effort to engage. Gesham paced awhile, then slumped against the back wall and lethargically traced the cracks with a finger.

His old friend was more energetic, testing the bars with vigor. Finding that fruitless, he stood over Gesham, careful to avoid the excrement plastering the floor. “What do we do, now? You always have the answer! Unless we get out of here, we will be slaves the rest of our lives!”

The rebel leered, then lolled his head over. “You concern yourself overly, my friend. You and I will never grace a slave auction.” Zoathan was elated! “Why not? You heard Nefferak…”

Gesham looked long at Than as if he were a child. “The Romans have appeased her as best they would.” He choked on a laugh, then coughed out:” You saw her eyes when they impounded part of her coin?” “In truth, I did,” chortled Zoathan! “I thought those fiery orbs would pop out and roll around the magistrate’s desk!”

They both had a good laugh till tears flowed. “So,” Zoathan ventured, “What will they do with us?” Gesham waved his hand announcing: “They will let us contemplate our misdeeds here for a short while, then escort us out into the sunlight of a beautiful new day.”

“Indeed…” Zoathan could not believe his ears! He found the cleanest corner and sat down. “When will they come for us?” The pair did not have to wait long.

& & &

Iron-nailed sandals make unnerving sounds on stone flooring. The sound came to a sharp end outside the prisoners’ cell. Three legionnaires opened the iron door then motioned the unfortunate pair out into the hall. One Roman lead while the other two muscled the captives ahead at a measured gait. The lengthy march abruptly ended at an open door to a small, dank smelling chamber. The soldiers pulled Zoathan and Gesham into the chamber lit only by tiny windows and wall torches.

Within were dark-stained wooden pillars with a large hook atop each arranged along one wall. Without orders or ceremony, more soldiers within quickly manacled the pair at the wrists and affixed the chains to the hooks, the prisoners facing the posts.

Zoathan panicked as he guessed what was next. “Gesham!”

Gesham only murmured lowly, “Courage, old friend.”

There was little time for further conversation. Their robes were summarily torn from their shoulders, exposing bare backs. Zoathan drew breath to call out again when what felt like a nest of savage hornets bit deeply into his back! What escaped from him was a howl of pain but sounded like no human cry. It rose like the excruciating sound of a dog being crushed by a cart. Gesham’s wails joined him in an insane harmony as the horrific shrieks bounced off the stone walls, over and over.

Then, unexpectedly, it stopped. Zoathan slumped in his chains, blood running down his torn back. With their usual efficiency, the guards removed the manacles. Zoathan found himself on his knees, clutching the wood, heaving and coughing blood from a bitten tongue.

At length, hands attempted to replace his robe around his shoulders, but he twisted and snarled like a beast. “Steady, Than.” It was Gesham, already on his feet. Than allowed himself to be lifted and dressed. From that point, their rough jailers took over, and the mad march started again, out of the chamber and down the corridor. In Latin, a voice yelled after them. One of the guards trotted back to the torture chamber and returned with two small placards, each on a rope that they looped around each captives neck. Zoathan was not even curious as to what was inscribed on them.

& & &

Gesham was allowed to support his friend. That and a slightly slower pace made him suspect these Roman pigs were not totally devoid of souls, after all.

With the same three guards, the two Hebrews shuffled ahead through endless halls, turns, and stairs. Any lagging was met with a rough prod to the back that set their wounds to screeching like angry birds.

They abruptly departed the fortress. Even though it was early, they broke into blinding sunlight, winding their way through the Passover throngs. The people frowned but parted like swimming ducks before a galley. The grim procession went on and on. Zoathan felt he had lost consciousness, yet he was still walking as in a daze. It ended at the Western Gate. The Romans exchanged some Latin words with their comrades at the exit. Zoathan and Gesham had little time to rest before a new set of three soldiers shoved them through the gate, their old escorts marching back to the Fortress.

The road leading west went straight, but the legionaries marched them off road to a hill where several tall beams were driven into the ground. They did not look welcoming. Then the reality of the situation crashed on Zoathan like a great wave! Crucifixion! No! No! “Gesham! They can’t do this to us for taking a few coins from devious foreigners!”

Gesham’s voice was a bit uncertain. “They can take the life of a rebel, a zealot!”

“I’m no rebel…you are!”

“Just so,” conceded Gesham. “But you were with me, so…” His tired voice trailed off.

“Do something!” Zoathan squawked through parched lips.

“No, YOU do something!” Gesham was angry. “You may not have been a rebel, but you can assuredly be one now! Show these Romans that they cannot just mash us like insects! Stand up to them! Show no fear! It is our very last weapon.”

This was more than Zoathan could absorb. He blathered incoherently until they reached the top of the hill. Several crosses were already assembled, laying on the ground. Without ceremony, the guards ripped the robes off their prisoners, reopening some of the wounds. They were then shoved onto the crosses, backs down and heads up above the junction of the two beams. Guards jerked off the placards and looped the signs over the tops of the uprights.

Zoathan was wincing in pain when two thickset men roughly lashed his arms to the crossmember. Someone else stretched his leg and aligned a foot to the side of the vertical beam. What came next was a clanging of iron on iron and a pain that made the flogging seem like a gentle massage!

& & &

Agony shot up his leg, and the world turned a bright green! This was a dream, a nightmare! As someone grabbed his other leg, he kicked madly, but his oppressor’s hands were strong as bands of iron. More clanging and more pain! Zoathan screamed loud enough to shake Jerusalem’s walls, and he was not alone. More clanging and Gesham, despite his brave words, was bellowing his lungs out in pain!

Zoathan knew he was going mad but could do nothing but yell up at the cloudy sky overhead. Then he felt the cold iron and the sharp point of a spike against his wrist. No amount of twisting or turning helped. Then, clang! Now the new pain was combined with all the other injuries and he began to feel a swirling fire all about himself! He heard more hammers on spikes, some for him, some for Gesham.

Suddenly he was disoriented as his cross was being lifted, dragged to a convenient hole. His suffering doubled as the beam was dropped in to the hole, dirt and wedges filling in around the base. He vomited violently, the laborers cursing and scattering under the rain of bile.

Now upright, the agony was akin to a brightly-colored whirlwind. His sheltered mind had never dreamt of this level of suffering. Turning his head, he could see Gesham was doing no better. Zoathan did not believe it right to pray for death, but after seeing his life-long friend in torment, he begged God to allow Gesham to die soon. Then, a new complication.

Though nailed and tied to the cross beam, his strength soon gave out and he sagged down. Than found he could not get a breath when in this position, so he pushed himself up by his nailed feet, a tormenting effort. Gaining the needed air, he spent it in one great shout: “These Roman pigs are clever!”

“Just so,” gasped Gesham. “Don’t let them hear…they will surely punish you!”

Both men choked up laughter at the bitter joke, then settled back to the cruel rhythm of sagging and pushing upright again. This went on for what seemed like an eternity.

& & &

Without warning, more clanging and screams. Soon, a new cross was manhandled into place right between the two old friends, the cross members almost touching. With blurred vision, Zoathan tried to make out the newcomer, who was staring right at him. Their eyes leveled and locked.

Instantly, Zoathan felt the same stunning shock that had filled him atop the Temple wall days before. More than shock, the pain was gone! He now knew for sure what he had earlier only dared to suspect. He knew whom he was looking at. “Preacher! Rabbi! Messiah!”

Hearing this, Gesham broke in: “If you are the Messiah, save yourself and us!” Out of breath, he slumped down, whimpering.

For once, Zoathan openly opposed Gesham. Perhaps he was a rebel after all. “Do you not fear God?! We are here as sinners! This man has done nothing amiss!” Breathing easier now, he composed himself and earnestly addressed his Messiah: “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

The Lord looked with compassion and said through cracked, trembling lips: “You defended me, Zoathan. Verily, I say to you, today shall you be with me in paradise.” With that, the man sent by God was suddenly racked with convulsions.

The spell broke, and the pain returned to Than with a vengeance as he was forced to continue the horrible up and down dance. Still, it was not so bad, now. All the good deeds and bad deeds in his life had brought him to this moment in time. One final act, and it was good.

At some length, he found he could no longer push himself up, but no matter. He managed one last look at Gesham, who hung lifeless, his eyes and mouth open. As Zoathan too succumbed, warm darkness surrounded and comforted the dyer of Jerusalem who had become something more in these final moments.

Zoathan and Gesham are dead.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Garry Harman 2026

Image Source: Dey at Fictom.com