Raven
Pleased, anxious, I reread the inscription in his book, Time is All We Have, wondering if he knew something or was just being nice.
For Raven,
As I tell everyone, she's going to make it big, soon.
Love, Barnaby
Seated alone with a row of strangers I scanned the audience for familiar faces, unable to spot anyone I knew except Barnaby. He stood on the edge of the stage in the main auditorium. Holding the mike, the artistic, kindly man gazed out at us.
"We gather one last time to say goodbye," he said. "It's been a fun week. So many stories, so much to remember."
He gave a summation of the conference, recounting humorous events and introduced other speakers. Finally he returned to the lectern.
"Now to the awards," he said. "Those of you, who have attended previous years, know that workshop leaders select the best of what is read in class. We submit it to the committee of workshop leaders. We all review the submissions and vote for the best in each category."
Wondering where Zak, Sue, Zippy and Jessie were, if they were even present, I quelled my restlessness and tried to focus. Barnaby announced the winners and presented the awards. After nervous acceptance speeches, with each recipient reading a little of their work, Barnaby again took the mike.
"Based on an outstanding entry, this year we added the category of Best Book-length Manuscript. I thought I'd announce it by reading a passage. When the author recognizes it, I'd like him or her to join me on stage."
He pulled a manuscript from the lectern and began to read.
Blood oozed from the new wound, down his side and onto the leg of the one some called the Messiah, Yeshua of Nazareth. Yeshua was one of three hanging from patibulums on the knobby, rock-infested hill. Flies buzzed the three men, landing on them, lapping in blood and sweat. Birds circled overhead.
"Adonai, forgive me," mumbled the soldier beside me, holding the bloody sword.
I'd witnessed many executions. Most soldiers performed the government authorized murders as a matter of duty. They did what they were told without questioning if it was wrong. Some of them even made wagers on the how long it would take the convicted to die. Many soldiers tended to the task soused. Not the soldier beside me. His face held anguish. It appeared he might cry. The half dozen women huddled near Yeshua were weeping, some very loudly.
All but one.
Straight-faced, determined, she ventured forward, holding a stick with a moist cloth attached to the end. She looked up at Yeshua. As she did the shawl covering her face fell away.
"It's set," she whispered in Hebrew.
It was my job to squelch insurrections, incursions and riots. As a necessity I'd learned Hebrew when I first took my post. Many of my subordinates considered it beneath them to learn the language of these self-righteous heathens who considered themselves God's chosen.
Many of her people spoke Aramaic and Greek, at least in my presence. She and her group seemed different. I wondered about the difference. I had heard they were a branch of the Essenes. Beyond that I knew little. There was an elegance in the way she held herself, not of nobility, more like confidence and independence, qualities I had never seen in Jewish women.
I wondered if Yeshua could see her, or if the blood dripping down his forehead and over his eyes had completely obscured his vision. She lifted the cloth to his nose and mouth. I'd seen the ritual before. It was a knockout potion designed to ease the suffering. It worked. In a short while he slumped unconscious.
Hesitating momentarily, she glanced at the other two men hanging beside him. She stepped up to each one and held the cloth to their noses as well. In moments they, too, lost consciousness.
For a long moment before stepping away the woman gazed at me. In her eyes I saw a plea and a look, one that made me love her.
Stumbling from my seat, unable to see clearly because of my tears, I headed for Barnaby and joined him behind the lectern.
"I'd like you all to meet Raven Duval. She has written this extraordinary book about crimes her brother committed. What I just read was part of his diary. As I understand it, he believed he was the centurion at the execution of Jesus."
"Yes," I said. Shaky, I held on to the edge of the lectern.
"And that you were the woman who held up the cloth?" Barnaby said.
"Yes."
It was hard to be there, way too hard. I wanted to go home and hide, to never see anyone again.
"And that he, your brother, killed a bunch of people this lifetime to avenge deaths he believed they caused at the time of Jesus."
"Yes."
"It takes courage to bare yourself like this, Raven. Can you tell me why you felt you had to do it?"
I fisted my hands and forced out the words. "My brother was a good person before all this happened. A really good person. Our parents loved us. They were always good to us. To have my brother do such a horrible thing." I paused, struggling to keep my voice intact. "Whenever someone does something wrong, people blame the parents. If the child had a good upbringing, they say, the person wouldn't have done such a thing. Garbage in, garbage out, they say. I guess it makes them feel safer. It makes them think that if they follow a prescribed set of rules, their children and grandchildren will never do anything horrible.
"They're wrong," I said. "Nothing is certain except uncertainty and change and maybe love."
"Love?" Barnaby's tone now held kindness "Anyone who has ever had a broken heart could argue the point."
"I'm talking about real love, not what we call love. The real thing never dies," I said, conviction in my voice. "Nothing else means a damn."
From the corner of my vision I saw Zippy step up beside me. He was holding a plaque.
"Insights of this kind are part of Raven's manuscript," Zippy said. "It's a riveting read. It's profound, controversial, as well as, unsettling. It addresses the anatomy of crime, the depth of love and karma, and how they follow us across space and time.
"Raven Duval, I am honored to present to you this award for outstanding writing and most of all for the kindness that so obviously lives in your heart." He hugged me like he had known me a long time.
In the stone quiet auditorium Barnaby took one of my hands and Zippy the other. Standing on either side of me, they held them up.
"To courage," Zippy said.
In front of us just down from the edge of the stage Zak was smiling. Next to him, Jessie looked cryptic. Beside them, Sue beamed.
~~~***~~~