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Chapter Nine
Arrival of the Guards
When Jesus returned from his discussion with Samuel,
the look of alarm on his face told us that a new disaster was about to befall
our family. For the moment the
incredible realization growing in our minds was delayed.
“It’s not over,” he announced, dashing into the
house. “There’s Romans galloping up the road! They’re holding javelins. A column of armored soldiers with swords drawn and shields
follow. They’re heading into the
hills, behind our house.”
As we looked out of the kitchen window, we could see
the flash of armor and helmets and hear the clop-clop-clop of legionnaires
riding past our house. There was
also, following Jesus declaration, the familiar thud of hobnail boots tromping
through the gate, across Mama’s garden and into our yard. Racing across the floor, we peered
through the back door in time to see a squad of soldiers, with lighted torches
rushing down the trail.
“What next?” Papa grabbed the sides to his head.
“They’re looking for Reuben and his friends. Has our new friend decided to avenge us? Why couldn’t Cornelius have just concentrated
on one good deed.”
“Good,” I said through clinched teeth, “I hope they
catch him and cut off his head.”
“You don’t mean that Jude,” Jesus tried calming me,
“the townsfolk would turn on Papa for siding with the Romans. Reuben will be punished in his own
time.”
“Not soon enough,” Michael spewed. “Those men burned
down my mother’s house. Reuben
talked them into it. He hates my
mother and your family. That kind
of hate never dies. He and his
friends will be back. I hope the
Romans tie them all to stakes and burn them up!”
Even I winced at his exclamation. To underscore his words, more Romans
appeared in our backyard, swords drawn, blazing torches lighting their
way. Into the hills they streamed,
phantom warriors gobbled up by darkness.
An eerie quiet followed as the Romans vanished. In the front of our house, however, we
heard the commotion of the horseman and the more distant bark of Roman officers
calling to their men. Fear had
replaced anticipation in our minds.
Something terrible must have happened, we all agreed. Mother would not let her children leave
the house, including even Jesus, but Papa approached the marching soldiers,
looking frantically for Cornelius.
We could see from the front door and window the torch lit armor and
shiny weapons and hear the stomp of boots from more dismounted troops.
“How many are there?” Mama gasped.
“There must be hundreds of them!” I murmured in awe.
Voices carried well from the road, so we listened
with bated breaths, hoping to hear word from our friend. Clipped commands, such as “Loosen
ranks!” and “At the double!” I sensed meant that the columns were moving faster
than an ordinary march. What did
this mean? The Romans had taken
control of the entire town. What
had Reuben done to bring down such anger from Rome?
“Cornelius!
Where’s Cornelius!” Papa shouted.
“You there,” a deep voice ordered, “ get off the
road. Get back into your house!”
“Please, my name’s Joseph bar Jacob. I’m a friend of the prefect.”
“Stand back Joseph,” the officer replied. “I shall
ride ahead to inform him of your presence.”
A long silence followed in which everyone took turns
using the cloaca. James and Joseph
snuck swigs of wine, while mother wasn’t looking. Mariah sat motionless at the table, watching my brothers
pour helpings from the wine jar and then place it back in the new cupboard Papa
had built. Jesus was as nervous as
everyone else but managed to give comfort to Mariah now.
“I know you have the cravings,” he whispered softly,
“but wine destroyed my uncle as surely as the plague. I’ll pray constantly for you, but you must pray too,
Mariah. Each time it comes upon
you, you must ask the Lord for strength and resolve.”
“How did you get so smart?” she grinned foolishly,
looking back at the cupboard.
“Where you listening to me?” Jesus touched her hand.
“This is very serious, Mariah. You
must put yourself in the hands of God.”
“You sound so adult for a boy,” she laughed
stupidly, “but I’ll be all right.”
I watched Jesus face fall. A thought came over me (I would now interpret as a
revelation) that Jesus not only knew that Mariah would never see her son again,
but something dark awaited her in Jerusalem. . . perhaps sooner. I temporarily forgot that I was
Joseph’s adopted son. After all, I
was in good company now. Instead
of worrying about myself, I began worrying about foolish Mariah and her poor
son, who I assumed my parents would have to adopt too. Jesus looked over at me as I stood on a
stool by the window and gave me a sad smile. Jesus’ maturity back then astonished everyone. Those times in which he lost his temper
like everyone else or broke down and cried as would a little child had always
amused me, but now I had the urge to run and hug my oldest brother for the
burdens he took upon himself.
Mama noticed Mariah’s glassy look too as she hovered
by the window, waiting for Papa’s return.
James and Joseph, who were slightly tipsy, had sat down on their pallets
and fallen asleep. The twins,
however, having awakened during all the commotion, climbed up on stools to
nestle beside mother at the table.
Simon and Michael joined my vigil by the window, as I waited for
Cornelius to answer Papa’s summons.
When, after a nerve-racking period of time, we saw a lamp in the garden
and heard footsteps up the path, we assumed it was him, but mother made us wait
until we heard a knock at the door and Papa’s voice. Hardly had Simon unbolted the door when Papa came rushing
in, out of breath, a worried look on his faith.
“Did you talk to Cornelius?” I jumped up and down
excitedly.
Papa nodded faintly. He was sweating profusely
“But we didn’t hear you.” Simon looked at him
disbelief.
“He spoke to me from his saddle in a discreet
voice,” Papa explained. “It’s not good, not good at all.” “Please everyone,” he motioned
impatiently, “let’s sit down.”
“Would you care for some wine?” asked mother, wiping
his brow.
“No, I have to keep a clear head,” he motioned for
Simon, who ran to bring him a dipper of water.
“Here Papa,” Simon chirped.
“Where’s James and Joseph?” he looked around the
room. “How can they sleep at a time like this?”
“They drank wine,” Michael blurted. “I saw them dip
into your jar.”
Papa stepped forward as if he wanted to punish them
severely but broke into laughter at the comic poses his sons had fallen into on
the floor. James lay on his back
his mouth gaping open, and Joseph lie on his face, an arm draped over his
brother’s chest.
“Like two drunken sailors!” Papa exclaimed through
guffaws. “My sons are drunk on wine!
What else will befall my house?”
“It’s not funny Joseph,” Mama frowned. “Our sons
have tasted the vine!”
“Doesn’t anybody care what Cornelius said?” I
shouted this time.
Papa expelled the words then dropped his face into
his hands. “Apparently, Reuben and his friends rolled a boulder down a hill and
injured one of the prefect’s men.
One of the soldiers Cornelius said it was an accident, but they are
hunting them down as incendiaries.
Now they are not only suspected of arson but are responsible for
attacking a Roman soldier as well.
I heard distant shouting, coming from the town square. Our friendship with Cornelius will only
make matters worse!”
Everyone except Mariah rose from the table and went
to console Papa. James and Joseph
stirred on their pallets, scratching their heads. Papa explained to us what they would do if they caught
Reuben and his friends. They would
turn them over to the procurator for trial and punishment, if they didn’t kill
the fugitives on the spot. This
appeared to be a disaster for our family.
We all chattered fearfully at the same time as Papa sat groaning in his
chair. Mariah appeared to be
withdrawing again into a mental shell.
Reason and sanity came back to our family slowly as we listened to Jesus
utter a supplication “Lord guard us this dark hour against our enemies. Soften their hearts to your will. You know the truth. Impart this truth to the elders, and
guide the hard hand of Rome to justice, not vengeance. . .”
The prayer lasted for several moments more. Much of it sounded like repetition, so
Simon, Michael, and I stopped up our ears, but the distraction served to take
our minds off of our fears. At the
end of his prayer, however, Jesus uttered something that awakened our dulled
wits. Even the groggy James and
Joseph pricked up their ears when Jesus cried out “Lord protect your misguided
children Reuben, Josiah and Asa.
If they’re caught, the Romans will kill them, and the punishment will
not fit the deed. The townsfolk
will blame the house of Joseph bar Jacob.
Quickly heal the brave Roman harmed during the pursuit. Change the heart of our enemies Reuben,
Josiah and Asa. Quiet the storm in
Nazareth with your calming breath.
Please Lord, if it be your will, send the Romans away!”
The last words in his supplication brought our
father to his feet. It also
awakened Mariah from her lethargy.
“No, Jesus,” he wrung his hands, “we need the Romans
to escort Mariah. You must alter
the end of your prayer!”
“You have said it,” Jesus smiled, pointing at his
head, “and God has listened.”
James and Joseph laughed hysterically.
“The Romans?
We need the Romans!” Mariah muttered, staring wild-eyed around the room.
“He did the alteration in his head,” Mother
explained, taking her trembling hand. “We must do as Jesus says, and trust in
the Lord.”
“I know the Romans will help Mariah.” I looked
trustingly at Jesus. “Cornelius said so!”
“Yes,” Jesus nodded, “Cornelius is a man of his
word.”
“But what about that scoundrel Reuben?” Papa gave
him a worried look.
“I think Reuben and his friends will be gone a long
time,” Jesus said less convincingly. “Even before I prayed I got the strongest
feelings about him leaving our town.”
“Did the Lord tell you that?” James frowned.
“The Lord does not speak in Hebrew or Latin,” Jesus explained
patiently. “He speaks in flashes and sensations, not words. Where’s your faith?”
“I believe in what I see,” grumbled James. “Whether
or not Reuben and his friends leave Nazareth, the Romans have persecuted our
people. Our neighbors will hate us
for that!”
“Well, maybe we should all pray,” suggested Papa,
looking around the room, “all of us praying together, at the same time, just to
be sure.” “What to do you say?” he
elbowed James. “You would rather Mariah walk to Jerusalem by herself?”
“Well, . . . no,” James made a face. “I just wish
Odeh would have done it, not them!”
“I’ll hold your hand Papa.” I stepped forward
excitedly. “Jesus taught us how to pray!”
Jesus, smiling happily at us all, reached out for
Papa’s hand. Papa motioned for me
to take the other. I offered my
hand to Michael, who took it eagerly and clasped hands with his mother, who
seemed to have an embarrassed look on her face. James appeared to be excited to join hands with Mariah. Then, with a shudder, he took Joseph’s
hand, who linked up with Simon, the twins, and then our mother, who completed
the circle by taking Jesus’ free hand.
“What do we say?” Michael whispered in my ear.
“Pray in your head, like Jesus said,” I answered
curtly.
“That’s correct,” Jesus agreed, “a circle of
prayer. Everyone will give God his
or her own special words.”
“What special words?” Michael turned to me. “I can’t
think of any words.”
“Make them up,” Simon groaned
“Yes, use one of your mother’s spells,” grumbled
Joseph.
“Listen children,” Jesus reminded us, “clean out all
your thoughts, like our mother sweeps the floor. Pretend, as you shut your eyes, that you’re looking up to
heaven, through a clear blue sky.
In your own words, ask God to protect our house and allow Mariah a safe
journey.”
“Jesus! Jesus!” I sputtered. “What about the
Romans? What about Cornelius?”
“That too,” sighed Jesus. “We want our friend to
come back.”
Sounds of Roman officers in the distance shouting
orders filtered in the night wind through the window. Unceremoniously Papa ordered us to commence our separate
entreaties with one word “begin!”
At first I saw a big white horse riding in my
head. It was difficult not to
think of my horse, until I did exactly what Jesus said. First, with some effort, came the house
cleaning, followed by the clear blue sky, and the simplest prayer a boy my age
could muster: “Bless our house, watch over our guests, and make our enemies go
away!”
After opening my eyes, I discovered that many of the
others were having trouble “thinking” their prayer too. Michael and Simon stood there with
their eyes tightly shut and lips moving, while James and Joseph, who had drank
too much wine, clung miserably to their partner’s hands. While Mariah had the look of a trapped
animal, Jesus and our parents appeared to be offering God more eloquent
prayers, but the twins, having been excused by the ordeal, broke ranks and fled
to the next room.
The
sound of marching, more shouts, and one piercing blast of a horn, now halted
our circle of prayer. I shuddered
and sighed at the same time. Papa
looked around at us and said hastily “Amen!”
Suddenly there was a clatter of swords against metal
pleats, followed by knocking on the front door. After releasing each other’s hands, we fled from the
kitchen. James, Joseph, Simon,
Michael, and I now cowered in various corners of the room. Our parents, hand-in-hand, stood
bravely in front of the door. Once
again Jesus settled calmly at the table as Mariah, as the twins earlier, ran
from the scene.
“Yes?” Papa called anxiously. “What business do you
have with us this hour?”
“This is Cornelius,” the prefect answered
impatiently. “My apologies for disturbing you again, but I must speak to you
Joseph. Please let me in.”
“Of course,” Papa mumbled, pulling the board from
its cradle.
The prefect, now covered with dust and grime,
clamored into the room. In back of
him, but not crossing the threshold were several legionnaires, still holding
their swords.
“Cornelius! What’s the meaning of this?” Papa
gasped, looking out into our yard. “Why are they holding swords?”
“I’m sorry, Joseph,” he replied hoarsely, “I fear
for the safety of your family.
Three fire-raisers, who almost killed one of my men, are at large. A village witness claimed to see them
near your house.”
Papa looked at Jesus, as if by eye contact, to
confirm the legitimacy of their prayers.
Having rose up to greet our guest, Jesus nodded both greeting and
assurance to each man. I ran over
finally, halted a few paces in front of Cornelius, and looked up admiringly at
our friend.
“Reuben and his friends, Josiah and Asa, are gone,”
Jesus said with great conviction. “They’ll bother this house no more.”
Cornelius laughed softly. “Really? We couldn’t find them, but I wouldn’t be
surprised if they were hiding somewhere in the hills or outskirts of town.”
A
Roman prefect would only laugh if we told him about our prayers. Mama, always the good host, immediately
handed him a mug of wine.
“What was all that commotion in town?” Papa changed
the subject, as Cornelius took a long, slurping gulp.
“Thank
you my lady,” he murmured, handing the half-empty mug back. “I hope you forgive
this intrusion in your home.”
“The good prefect has our best wishes at heart.” She
bowed.
“I don’t wish to alarm you.” Cornelius stared
gravely at our father. “Those incendiaries have caused a mood of insurrection
among your fellow Jews.”
Papa’s eyebrows shot up. “So it’s not just the
pursuit of Reuben requiring the Romans.
You’re here to maintain order and keep the peace.”
“Yes,” Cornelius replied, making a sweep with his
arm, “our presence is a show of force for agitators.” “I’m sorry,” he looked
around the room, “Rome has an ancient fear of insurrection and fire. We must keep order. I insist that you all stay inside, as
I’m sure most citizens are doing this hour. Unless I post guards tonight, I can’t vouch for your safety
against Reuben and other trouble-makers in town.”
“Will there be very many posts?” Papa gave him an
anxious look.
“Four for each security zone.” Cornelius nodded.
“We’ll have three shifts—day and night—at each corner of town.”
“Is that necessary?” Papa groaned.
“I’m afraid so.” The prefect folded his arms.
“Nazareth is close to the fort, making it easier to patrol than other
towns. The main caravan road isn’t
far from here, which makes this area especially important. It’s not merely that rogue Reuben and
his men that are a problem. A
robber band, led by Abbas, is causing trouble in Galilee, so other towns, such
as Cana and Nain, require security too.”
“Mark my word.” He socked his fist. “They’ll pay dearly for that
fire. They picked the wrong time
to anger Rome!”
“Death to incendiaries!” cried a soldier in our
yard.
“Aye,” another shouted in the distance, “death to
all Jews trifling with Rome!”
“Fantastic!” I clapped my hands. “The Romans are
here!”
James and Joseph, jolted from drunken slumber,
frowned severely at me. Papa and
Mama shook their heads. If it’s
true that voices are carried in the wind, the last soldier’s shout put our town
on notice. In the torchlight,
through the open door, we could see the faces of our protectors: unshaven,
steel jawed, cold-eyed warriors.
That moment, as my admiration soared, my words stung James and Joseph,
yet Jesus gave me an indulgent smile.
It was one of the countless childhood memories of my oldest brother
tucked away in my memory. Other
than Jesus, himself, only Michael was glad to see the soldiers, but he seemed
frightened of these men.
In a more tactful fashion than his men, Cornelius
spoke to us, going into more detail about the security measures for
Nazareth. In the background, as my
parents stood there with wide, unblinking eyes, James and Joseph stood glaring
at our visitor. I could hear them
whispering back and forth. They
were unhappy about the Roman presence.
Wine had loosened their tongues.
At first, the prefect seemed unruffled by their
hostility. “These fellows,” he
announced, pointing to his men, “will take the first watch. Essentially, they’ll be guarding your
house. Horsemen will patrol the
main road in and out of Nazareth and the footpaths in town. Sentries, in teams of four, will guard
the north, south, east, and west sectors of town. You’re neighborhood, particularly your property, is closest
to the Arab encampment and old Jerusalem trail, so it might require added
security. Horsemen will also
patrol the perimeter of the hills and surrounding desert, and the entire cohort
will divide its forces throughout Galilee to seek out and destroy Abbas and his
band. Rest assured, because of the
unrest in this province, what happened here in Nazareth will be closely
watched. I’ll return in a few days
to talk to your town elders, so I can explain the schedule and how I’ll station
my men. For the remainder of this
week, I’ll spend most of our time in the saddle, determining how many cities
and towns require around-the-clock protection. You’ve probably noticed our growing presence here—a show of
force to remind Galileans that we’re here. Rome is always watching. There’ll be no more rebellions against Rome!”
Cornelius had given James and Joseph a warning. Though Papa gave them his most severe
frown, they grumbled unhappily to each other.
“The Romans are oppressors!” Joseph whispered in
James’ ear.
“Our name is now sheep dung in this town.” James
muttered back.
Still quite tipsy, they had been overheard. The prefect picked up on their whispers
yet spoke indirectly, as if they weren’t in the room.
“Meaning no respect.” He bowed deferentially to my
parents. “I don’t understand the Jewish mind, especially its ill-tempered
youths. Despite the efforts of our
emperor and governor to appease them, many Jews are hotheads and
rabble-rousers, like those troublemakers in your town. I have noticed that older men are more
prudent. The peaceful village of
Nazareth was the last place I would expect unrest. It’s not merely the incendiaries who set Mariah’s house on
fire or Abbas, the bandit chief, who worry me. I can hear it now in the air: mutiny and sedition. I can even hear it in this room. The incident in Nazareth was a wake-up
call. I’m afraid that fire,
awakened a mood of civil disobedience, placing your family in conflict with
those agitators in town.”
“Will your men be friendly?” Papa asked carefully.
“….They won’t mistreat my neighbors and friends?”
“Yes and no,” he answered, raising an eyebrow. “
It’s a two-way road. The optios in
charge of the four security zones will instruct their men to be polite and
patient for Jews obeying the law.
Later, when they have time, your sentries should introduce
themselves. Hopefully, very soon,
the routine will run smoothly here.
Don’t worry, Joseph and Mary, you have nothing to fear!”
“What about my mother?” asked Michael, dashing
across the floor.
“Hello there,” Cornelius reached down to pat his
head. “So you’re Mariah’s son. A
strong likeness, I must say.” “Don’t you worry,” he winked at Michael, “I’ve
given my word.”
“You poor dear.” Mother clasped her hands. “You and
your men must be exhausted.”
“We’ll manage.” He sighed raggedly. “Rome never
sleeps.”
The quip was taken seriously by my family. Cornelius meant business. The prefect’s eyes rolled around the
room. James and Joseph’s surly
faces caught his attention as did Jesus, who, with much different viewpoints,
stood there contemplating our new friend.
It appeared by the glow on his face that Simon, like Michael and I, was
greatly impressed by this gallant soldier. Though appreciative, my parents had looks of concern on
their haggard faces. How far would
the prefect go to protect our town?
“I’m aware,” his voice grew stern, “that only three
incendiaries were reported tonight.
Most of the hecklers ran into the shadows like frightened lambs. But don’t be fooled, my friends. All of us remember that terrible time
when Nazarene youths were executed alongside of Judah’s other rebels for
rebelling against Rome.” “This was
a long time ago,” he added reflectively, “but the mood hasn’t changed. We know that Nazareth, like other
Galilean towns, is filled with hotheads.
I heard some of them shouting insults at my men. We’re here to protect you but also to
keep order, especially with those fire-raisers running amuck. Rome will not tolerate another Judah
the Galilean. Nor will we allow
innocent townsfolk to be terrorized by criminal’s carrying torches and making
threats.”
For a moment, after reaching over to ruffle my hair,
the prefect made eye-contact with James and Joseph again. Papa nodded gravely at the connection
then suggested politely that Cornelius sit down, have some more wine, and rest
a moment before going back to camp.
The prefect smiled and shook his head then chatted disarmingly awhile
with us about the fire and the miraculous storm that put it out. He laughed softly to himself about the
story he heard. At that point, he
looked squarely at Jesus but said nothing. I wanted to cry out “It’s true! It’s true!”
Roman soldiers, I would discover later, were a superstitious lot, but
their officers were practical men who dealt only with facts. The lecture he gave us had been
expected. He cared not a wit about
Jesus supposed divinity or the gossip from townsfolk that he had summed
Beelzebub to make it rain. Cornelius,
however, had presented the problem Rome had with we stiff necked Jews in a kindly
enough fashion. He didn’t talk
down to us or make us feel like a conquered people. The gruff mannerism expected of no-nonsense military men was
absent from the prefect, at least the side of himself shown to us. He had made us feel like friends.
The warning he had given for James and Joseph’s
benefit had silenced them. In a
tremulous voice, to avoid discipline, they begged his pardon. With Papa’s prodding, they stepped
forward one-by-one to shake the Roman’s hand. Cornelius gave them both a stern smile but said
nothing. Before departing, he
summed up the plan for spiriting Mariah away. All of us, except Michael’s mother, perked our ears up and
drew near. The plan had changed
only slightly. Papa and Ezra would
escort Mariah to the orchard, where a contingent of soldiers would take her
through the nearby hills to the camp of Odeh and his men. Odeh, who had been frightened off
because he thought Mariah was a criminal or witch, would lead the Roman escort
with their secret cargo to Jerusalem during his monthly wool caravan to the
holy city. We never found out how
Cornelius talked him into this. It
seemed so fortuitous to us that Odeh’s periodic journey would coincide with
Mariah’s planned rescue, we once again glanced knowingly at Jesus, who stood
quietly in our midst.
“I had nothing to do with it,” he stated
unequivocally. “The Lord answered our prayers.”
“Of course,” I smiled slyly.
“Jesus has great powers,” Michael whispered into my
ear.
Mariah, who had a withdrawn, glassy-eyed look,
frowned and tilted her head, as if she was hearing voices. Mother, with a look of alarm, reached
out to squeeze her knuckles, but Mariah withdrew her hand, smiled crookedly,
and began muttering softly to herself.
“She’s not right in the head,” observed James.
“She’ just upset,” Papa frowned at James. “She’ll be
all right when she leaves Nazareth.
In Jerusalem she’ll be with relatives. It’ll do her good.”
“What about her son?” Cornelius gave Michael’s head
another pat.
“He’ll come later,” Papa said reassuringly, “when
Mariah’s ready. We mustn’t rush
matters. We’ll let Mariah decide
that for herself.”
Our adopted father was in denial. So much had happened to us in such a
short period of time the fact that Mariah might still be insane, though a
logical conclusion after yesterday’s events, was being ignored. She’s just upset Papa told us. She’ll be all right in Jerusalem (with
relatives who hate her, Michael, himself, had said.) I can scarcely believe Papa said such a thing. I knew nothing of literature or history
then. Now, what comes to my jaded
mind are the words of my friend Paul of Tarsus, who summed up my ten year old
grasp of these years when Jesus, himself, was still a youth:
“Now we
see through a glass, darkly but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am
known.”
******
I was confused and sad about our new status as the
adopted children of Joseph, the carpenter. Our small act of charity in Nazareth, which loomed so large
now, reeled around us in chaos, and yet I had time to daydream about a better
day. My white horse and troops
were always there to comfort me.
In my dream my friend Michael, who I thought shared my dream, was by my
side.
The prefect paused one last time to salute us and thank us for our hospitality and the mug of wine. I saluted him back: a fist brought up against my chest. This time, we knew the Romans would not leave Nazareth and our own property until things had quieted down. With the Lord’s protection, Jesus thought this was unnecessary, but my parents, Simon, Michael, and I felt much better with legionnaires guarding our house. Papa now ordered everyone to get some sleep. First light, when they must be in the orchard, he reminded us, would come early. Now that there was a large contingent of Romans watching our house, we need not worry about Mariah and her safety. In spite of Jesus confidence that Reuben would be no threat, however, we knew it would be a sleepless night and everyone, except perhaps the twins, would be up at the crack of dawn.
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