“I saw it all,” Jono said. “You and this Jesus, the Jewish rabbi.”
Jono placed the cage on Marcus’s table and noted the corona obsidionalis that had been placed there.
“Jesus is more than a rabbi,” Marcus said. “More than a teacher.”
Jono smiled. “Something has happened to you since we last saw one another.”
“More than I can say, my friend.”
“I knew one day you would save the world and win the crown. But to see you also filled with the joy of life . . . that I did not think I would see.”
“The foolishness of other men becomes the glory of another,” Marcus noted. “But tell me, now that we may speak as equals, why have you come?”
“I am free but not by my own doing. You knew from the first when you sent me to guard your lady and the child that I would never leave the boy of my will. Having lost my own children in the wars, I have guarded the boy as if he were my own.”
“Then what’s this about?”
“The master of the house thought to sell me in the slave market, so when he rode to the north on state business, Lady Claudia drew the document and set me free.”
“Tell me what you know.”
Marcus listened attentively, his brow furrowed, as Jono told him tales of Pilate’s bullying and abuse. Jono added stoically, “He still beats her from time to time. She takes it very well, considering . . .”
“Considering what?” Marcus retorted.
Jono paused. “Perhaps you don’t know. When you sent me to her when Philo was born, I saw and heard things . . .”
Marcus scowled. “Like what? Say it plainly.”
Jono lifted his chin. “When Claudia was with child soon into their marriage, Pilate was not happy. He beat her daily, the servants told me. One day she fell down the stairs. He followed her down and kicked her in the belly. She nearly lost the baby. Once, when she was weeping, she told me she believed that was when Philo was injured, in her womb.”
A wave of anger washed over Marcus. In that moment, he wanted to throttle Pilate until he was dead. But he could only stand clenching and unclenching his fists.
Claudia’s words when she bade him good-bye at the docks filtered back. “I can forgive him everything . . . even the worst that he has done to me, to Philo . . . but . . .”
He sighed. So she too had suffered, much more than he’d imagined.
Jono touched his shoulder. “The boy. I love him as my own. Pilate has no love for Philo. Worse, he is ashamed of him. Philo will need some man to look in on him. To show an interest in him. Though he cannot walk, he is a brilliant little fellow with a heart that soars above the clouds.”
Marcus nodded. “Then, yes. I will if I am able.”
“And one more thing . . .” Jono shuffled his feet. He drew a breath, then looked directly at Marcus. “She often remarks that the boy has a beautiful heart . . . like his father. I am sure she cannot mean the governor. Nor can she mean Caesar, his grandfather. I do not know of whom she must be speaking. But I will attest to the truth that the boy’s heart is kind and beautiful.”
The giant’s words pierced Marcus like a lance. So Jono knew the truth.
After Marcus had received Claudia’s letter that she was pregnant, he had steeled his heart and destroyed the parchment. She was, after all, married . . . even if Tiberius did force her hand. It was too dangerous for him, for Claudia, for the infant if the letter existed. He had never spoken of it to Claudia. The closest they had come was Marcus’s statement in the garden. “The boy is no part of Pilate.”
“No,” she had replied. “Not at all like Pilate.” Then she had avoided his gaze and switched the subject.
Jono continued to study Marcus with compassion. The secret was safe with the ebony giant, Marcus knew.
“For your sake then, old friend, and for Claudia’s and the boy’s, I will do all I can for him,” Marcus promised. “You have seen the miracles of Jesus. I think we must find a way to bring Philo to him.”
Chapter 35
Marcus and Jono clasped hands in farewell as the morning light gleamed golden on the Sea of Galilee.
“Where will you go now?” Marcus asked.
“Home, I thought. But where is home?” Jono spread his arms wide. “My forefathers were once of this people many generations ago. There is a legend that the blood of King Solomon runs through the veins of the kings and princes of Ethiopia.”
“Your blood.”
“Perhaps it is true. Perhaps I will stay awhile and see how this story plays out.” Jono held up the birdcage. Starling fluttered. “And this morning I will follow Starling’s flock across the water to the country of the Gadarenes, where Jesus is.”
Marcus replied, “From what I have witnessed of Jesus’ authority and power, it will all end well for the Son of David. Who could stand against him?”
“Until all things are established, you must be careful of your words,” Jono warned. “I have seen the danger. In the house of the Roman governor there is suspicion of Jesus. Will he raise a rebellion? And in the house of Herod there is great fear and hatred.”
Marcus nodded and placed a leather pouch of silver coins in Jono’s hand. “Go to the shore. You will find a boat to carry you across the water.”
The small fishing boat from Capernaum scudded across the water. The master of the boat was a slightly built, sun-dried man with the hide of an old sandal. He knew plenty about Jesus and also knew several of his disciples well.
Jono did not need to question him. As they sailed, the fellow talked, hardly pausing to take a breath.
“Peter and James left their father to manage all the business on his own. Poor fellow. But he does not seem to mind. He figures when the revolution comes and Jesus is king in Jerusalem, his boys will be part of the court. Judges at the very least and very wealthy. They can buy up every fishing boat on the lake and own a fishing empire. That’s what he says, anyway. As for me, I won’t sell my boat cheap.”
Jono commented, “No one will have to work if the stories are true. Jesus makes bread out of thin air.”
“It’s true! It’s true, right enough. No one goes hungry when he’s around. Five loaves and two fish multiplied to feed thousands in his camp. Thousands!” The fisherman shook his head in awe. “There are miracles all around. The night he set sail with his followers to cross the water, his twelve talmidim were in the boat with him. A few dozen of us fishermen were chartered to carry others across after him. A whole fleet of fishing boats. I didn’t go because I read the signs that there was a storm coming. I stayed put while every other fool set sail. And sure enough, a storm whipped up, as comes up here some days. Oh, how it blew! Everything I heard, even those most experienced thought they would sink.”
“What happened?” Jono fed bread crumbs to the starling.
“I’ll tell you, but you won’t believe it. Wind, such wind, and waves as high as a house. Jesus stood and roared against the wind and the storm. Commanded the weather to be still, and it obeyed him!” The fisherman wore an expression of wonder. “Imagine that—the wind and the waves obeyed his voice. Suddenly, all grew calm. As calm as a pond on a summer day. The raging ceased and not one person perished.” He adjusted the sail. “And so, everyone believes that Jesus can only be the Son of David. There is no other explanation.”
“It must be so,” Jono agreed. “But what will come of it? What does it mean? Will you be an army? Fight for him in Jerusalem? Take up your swords and battle the Romans and Herod’s soldiers?”
“Mercy me! I don’t have a sword. But I will follow him. He can heal the wounded. Raise the dead. Feed the army. Why wouldn’t we fol
low such a general?”
The east shore loomed up, and the boat slid onto the sand among dozens of other boats that sailed with Jesus and his followers.
In the distance the cloud of starlings rose and spiraled like a whirlwind.
“Look there—even the birds of the air follow him,” said the fisherman.
Jono paid the master and hurried up the slope of a hill to the peak. Jesus sat with his twelve disciples on a boulder on the opposite side of a valley. His voice resounded in the natural amphitheater. Below him was a throng of people as far as the eye could see.
Like an army, the thousands filled the valley.
Jono arrived just in time to hear Jesus resume addressing the crowd. “Therefore the kingdom of heaven is like a certain king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. And when he had begun to settle accounts, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents. But as he was not able to pay, his master commanded that he be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had, and that payment be made. The servant therefore fell down before him, saying, ‘Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’ Then the master of that servant was moved with compassion, released him, and forgave him the debt.”
The crowd buzzed with appreciation. What a kind master! What a lucky fellow!
“But wait,” Jesus instructed. “Listen to what happened next. That servant went out and found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii; and he laid hands on him and took him by the throat, saying, ‘Pay me what you owe!’ So his fellow servant fell down at his feet and begged him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’ And he would not, but went and threw him into prison till he should pay the debt. So when his fellow servants saw what had been done, they were very grieved, and came and told their master all that had been done. Then his master, after he had called him, said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you begged me. Should you not also have had compassion on your fellow servant, just as I had pity on you?’ And his master was angry, and delivered him to the torturers until he should pay all that was due to him.
“So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you, from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses.”12
Once again the audience hummed as they discussed Jesus’ words. God would only forgive in the same measure that we forgive others? Husbands and wives regarded each other with troubled expressions. Friends and business partners leaned their heads together, as if suddenly struck with unresolved issues to be discussed.
A hundred birds passed overhead and circled above the big man. Starling fluttered in her cage.
“All right then.” Jono lifted her up. “Are these your family?”
He loosed the latch and threw open the door. “You are free! Look! Free!”
Starling hopped from her perch and paused only a moment at the open portal. Then, with a happy chirp and a flurry of wings, she leapt into the sky and joined the other birds.
Jono shielded his eyes against the sun and traced her flight until she merged with the flock. He placed the empty cage on a boulder and hiked down the path to take his place among the human flock.
Chapter 36
It was always a joy for Claudia when Pilate and his Praetorian henchman Vara rode off on government business to Caesarea. She had heeded Marcus’s warning and had wheedled permission from Pilate to stay at the governor’s mansion in Tiberias for a while. Though she was happy for the fresh air, she missed the bustle of Jerusalem and her lessons with Josephus.
Claudia had awakened early to the sound of myriad feet traveling the road outside the gates of the governor’s estate. Philo was not yet awake.
“What is it?” Claudia asked her maid.
“Lady Claudia, the people are coming from all over Galilee to hear the teaching of Rabbi Yeshua, Jesus of Nazareth.”
Claudia climbed to the roof garden for a better view. The mass of humanity traveling along the lakeshore seemed endless. She had not witnessed such crowds since the great events of the Roman Circus. The citizens of Rome had often come in tens of thousands to watch gladiators fight to the death, but in Galilee, the multitudes flocked to hear the teaching of a new rabbi.
Seized with an irresistible curiosity, she changed into the clothes of a servant, slipped from the back gate, and joined the throngs. At this early hour clouds hung low in the east like scarlet banners. The water of the lake reflected red. Beneath her veil and in the homespun robe of a peasant and in plain leather sandals, Claudia became merely another commoner melting into the crowd that hoped to take away some fragment of truth.
Smoke from cook fires drifted up from small homes. The smell of fresh bread made her hungry. Purchasing a loaf and an apple from an old woman by the road, she sat on a boulder and ate breakfast among the crowd that now gathered by the lakeshore.
A cool breeze from the water stirred her veil. She lifted her eyes toward the fishing vessels on the Galil as the sun beamed through and stood on tiptoe to see him. From this far distance, surrounded by his bodyguards, he seemed an ordinary-looking Jew—in his early thirties, with brown hair, tied back, and a thick dark beard—framed by the backdrop of boats and fishing nets. But instead of fish, a school of humanity swarmed toward him.
She watched as Jesus climbed into a fishing boat and his men shoved off from the shore. The crowd started to settle in, sitting on the bank that sloped up like an amphitheater.
Claudia found a shady spot and sat on the ground beside a family of farmers.
All fell silent as Jesus got to his feet, grasped the mast, and began to speak.
“A farmer went out to sow some seed. As he scattered the seed, some fell upon the path, and the birds came along and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places where there wasn’t much soil. It sprang up quickly because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched and withered because they had no root. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants so they produced no crop. Still other seed fell on good soil. It sprouted, grew, and produced a crop, some multiplying thirty, some sixty, and some one hundred times.”
The farmer at Claudia’s elbow remarked, “This Jesus knows the perils of farming.”
The voice of Jesus resounded over the water. “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”
Someone shouted, “Tell us what it means, Rabbi!”
Jesus laughed. “Don’t you understand this parable? The sower sows the word. The ones by the wayside where the word is sown are those who, when they hear, Satan comes immediately and takes away the word that was sown in their hearts. The ones on stony ground are those who, when they hear the word, immediately receive it with gladness, but since they have no root in themselves, they only endure for a time. Afterward, when tribulation or persecution arises for the word’s sake, immediately they stumble. The ones among thorns are the ones who hear the word, and the cares of this world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires for other things choke the word, and it becomes unfruitful. But the ones on good ground are those who hear the word, accept it, and bear fruit . . . some thirtyfold, some sixty, and some a hundred.
“The kingdom of God is like this—a man scatters seed on the ground, sleeps by night, and rises by day. When the seed sprouts and grows, he himself does not know how. For the earth yields crops by itself . . . first the blade, then the head, after that the full grain in the head. But when the grain ripens, immediately he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.”13
After the teaching, Jesus and his close followers set the sail and caught the wind to skim eastward across the lake.
Along with the multitudes who wanted to hear more, Claudia arose, brushed bits of straw fr
om her clothing, and headed home.
She longed to speak to Josephus the Elder about what she had heard.
It seemed to Claudia that in the simple metaphors of Jesus’ teaching was truth. Inarguable and clear, she understood what he meant about life, hope, and disappointment and how goodness took root in the soil of a good person’s heart and grew into something magnificent.
She asked herself, What soil defines my heart?
That evening, as a storm raged over the Sea of Galilee, she sat down to write Josephus the Elder.
Venerable friend, today I heard the teaching of the young rabbi named Jesus. In his words I feel as though I have waded ankle deep in the sea of truth for the first time in my life. I put a drop of truth upon my lips. I taste salt. Even one drop is the sea, but there is so much more I long to know. His truth is deep, so deep. I have no one with whom I may explore this new Kingdom. Please come here and join us in Galilee.
Claudia had no doubt that Josephus would come in response to her letter and that it would be as swiftly as possible. After their study together of the scriptures, she knew the elderly Jew would be as curious about the events surrounding the rabbi Jesus as she was.
Chapter 37
As soon as Josephus was announced as drawing near the front entrance of Pilate’s Tiberias estate, she called to one of the servants, “Quickly! Bring food, drink, and a basin of water for our dusty traveler.” Then she hastened toward the door herself.
Stepping outside, she shaded her eyes against the late-afternoon sun of Galilee. Josephus arrived in a cart pulled by a donkey. As soon as he dismounted, he walked slowly toward her, smiling, hands extended in greeting.