The Making of the Lamb

by Bear, Robert

  Jesus gave Arvigarus a look of exasperation. “I don’t want to kill him. I don’t want to get beheaded for insulting you. And I certainly do not want to be nice to him. I did not ask for this—”

  “Master.” Pirro had walked to Jesus’s side.

  “What do you want?”

  “May I pour you some mead to have with breakfast?”

  “Fine, why not. I will have some mead.”

  “See, it’s not that bad,” Arvigarus remarked. “He’s a slave; just use him. It’s what people do.”

  “I have a really bad feeling about this. I wish he would just go away.”

  Joseph

  Joseph spent a restless night as the guest of the king of the Pencaire hillfort, on the summit of Tregonning Hill.

  It was at the foot of this hill that Jesus had made his first discovery of tin ore. Back then, almost four years ago, it had all seemed so simple—in the beginning, anyway. Jesus had been safely beyond the reach of the Romans, and his knack for discovering tin was going to make them all rich. But then the scriptural prophecy had led Joseph to despair for his great-nephew’s future. He had hoped that bringing Jesus to Ynys Witrin would turn the boy toward peace, but Jesus seemed as convinced as ever that he had been called as King David’s Messianic successor.

  Joseph lit a candle, and unfolded Jesus’s map. It indicated another untapped lode of tin. Joseph had already arranged for the hillfort king’s people to dig out the ore and bring it to Carn Roz. Kendrick would be sailing from Carn Roz on the morning tide to meet him at nearby Ictus, but Joseph still had not decided where he wanted the captain to take him.

  More than a month ago, Kendrick had left him in Carn Roz to consider the possibility of running the tin operation without letting the boys know. He had expected Kendrick to take only a fortnight to retrieve a portion of the coin deposited in Armorica, deliver it to the boys in Ynys Witrin, and return for him in Carn Roz, but fourteen days had turned to twenty and then thirty with no word.

  By the time Kendrick appeared, spring had banished the chill of winter. That had been several days ago.

  Kendrick explained that the Roman port master in Nantes had held the ship for a petty bureaucratic inspection that took days to complete, and that then the ship had been caught in doldrums on the route to Ynys Witrin.

  The only good news was that he had delivered the boys’ share of the Roman coin to Daniel, who sorely needed it.

  Jesus was no longer in Ynys Witrin or even in Priddy. He had left to study with the druids in Ynys Môn. Why would my fool of a nephew leave his mother and run off with the pagans? How could he expect Daniel to look after her in Ynys Witrin, run the mining and oversee the smelting operation in Priddy on his own?

  And now the first lode of silver-bearing ore had played out. A rival miner was digging quite close to the second untapped discovery. Kendrick told him how Daniel suspected that Esmeralda, the local druidess, was in league with the miner. She was spreading word that Mary’s presence so close to the Tor was impious. Yes, my fool of a nephew really left everything in Ynys Witrin in a sorry state.

  Jesus was gone, and Daniel needed help. Joseph was needed back in Ynys Witrin, yet he agonized over whether to return. With the enterprise headed for ruin, shouldn’t he be more concerned about his own son’s future? But if he went back, Jesus would find out sooner or later. That would enable Jesus to stay and carry on down the path of war and his own destruction. Joseph loved Jesus too much to help bring that about. He folded the map and blew out the candle.

  Lying in bed, unable to sleep, Joseph prayed silently to God for guidance, but he received no answer. He mulled over his options. Should he leave Britain forever? Have Kendrick take him to Carn Roz and stay there to manage the tin operations? Or maybe hire Kendrick’s ship to take him back to Ynys Witrin?

  After a while, Joseph threw off his blankets and paced the room. Jesus had always told him he should watch the sunrise from the top of the Tor. Tregonning Hill was not quite the same, but it would have to do. The vista from the summit took in Mounts Bay and Ictus, and one could see all the way to Bodmin Moor. It was certain to be spectacular in the emerging light of dawn. So why not take it in? This could be his last chance before leaving Britain forever.

  No one was stirring as Joseph made his way by the light of the moon, first across the hillfort enclosure and then across an open field beyond the gates. Fog hung all over the countryside. It was just as Jesus had described. Joseph stood alone, with a seemingly solid ground of fog at his feet. He looked up and marveled at the stars.

  It must have appeared at first as just another star, nothing special, one among millions. But then it descended from heaven, quite slowly, even majestically. Every so often it went off on a loop or a turn, but it always seemed to be approaching. Dawn gradually lightened the rolling banks of fog. But this star did not fade into the waxing light of the sun like all the others. As it came closer it took on form. But not solid form, for it was fashioned in flame. A chariot of fire.

  Joseph fell to his knees and bowed his face to the ground.

  From the chariot, a voice spoke. “You are created in the image of God, and you must bow to no one but God. Rise, Joseph, for I am not God. I am merely his prophet.”

  “Elijah?” Joseph rose to his feet.

  “I am he.”

  Joseph made out the ancient figure alighting without singe from the chariot. “And I have been sent to you, for it is not for you to see the face of God even though he has heard your prayers. Your faithfulness to the law has earned you the love and favor of God, and you have earned rewards beyond measure for that. But Jesus speaks true that God wants him to learn from the Britons and to teach them. Do not doubt Jesus when he tells you he is doing his Father’s will, for he will not deceive you. Abandon him not, even if you think he breaks the law, for you have your own part to play as Jesus grows in wisdom and in the favor of God and man.”

  “Am I to bare my soul to Jesus?” Joseph asked. “There are things I have seen in his future and have kept from him.”

  “There will come a time when Jesus will look into your soul and see everything. No mortal will be able to hide anything, and all desires will be known to him. But you are wise to let God determine the time when Jesus must learn what he is yet unready to know. Jesus will determine his own path when the Father enlightens him.”

  The mist burned off in the sunrise, and all the places and villages took solid form below. The sounds of the awakening hillfort made it clear that people would soon be out and about. “It is time for me to go. Fare thee well, Joseph.” The prophet climbed back into the flaming chariot and ascended into the sky, just as the retreating mist parted like a curtain to reveal the summit of Tregonning Hill.

  The decision before Joseph was now an easy one. It seems to be God’s will that I should rejoin Mary and the boys. I must return to them as fast as Kendrick’s ship can take me.

  Joseph paused only briefly to consider the deeper implications of what Elijah had said.

  Am I such a stubborn old fool that it takes a second coming of Elijah to convince me I might be wrong about Jesus—about his consorting with pagans, but more importantly about the path he is taking? It would be so much better to be wrong than to be right in this.

  Jesus

  Now with Pirro, Jesus and Arvigarus made their way up the Avon through the lands of the Dobunni. On the second day away from the settlement, Jesus noticed a field on the side of the stream. It was an hour before sundown. He turned from the bow, where he was paddling, to address Arvigarus in the stern. “I need to make camp before the sun goes down.”

  “We can still go another mile upstream before it gets too dark. I am sure we will find another campsite.”

  “The Sabbath begins for me at sundown. I must devote myself to my prayers.”

  “Very well, I suppose we can make up the time tomorrow,” Arvigarus answered.

  “Not during the day. The Sabbath continues through sunset tomorrow. I cannot do any work. T
hat includes paddling.”

  “What about him?” Arvigarus pointed to Pirro, who sat in the middle between them. “He can do your share of the paddling.”

  Pirro groaned and mumbled something about how weak and pained he still felt from the ill-use he had received in slavery.

  “He’ll be no help with the paddling,” said Jesus. “It is much more demanding than sailing with the wind. You will exhaust yourself if you try to do all the paddling tomorrow on your own.”

  “It’s been two days. He has not done anything. He just sits while we do all the work. Now he mumbles about being weak, and you give him another day off. Anyone would think he was the master and you the slave.”

  “He was hardly able to walk yesterday. Don’t you remember he spilled half the mug of mead all over me?”

  They beached the curragh and scouted for a clearing. Pirro moaned in pain and then walked slowly to a big log, where he sat.

  “I would have whipped him for being so careless,” said Arvigarus, “but I understand what you said—that putting him to work right away would weaken him too much. I even understood this morning when you relieved him for another day because his injuries were still festering. But now you are not even waiting to see how he fares tomorrow before you give him yet another day off. I can’t make sense of that. All he has to do is mumble a complaint, and he gets out of any work, while we take care of him.” Arvigarus grabbed the whip. “What he really needs is a dose of this.” Arvigarus flicked the whip in Pirro’s direction.

  “Whether he is injured has nothing to do with this,” snapped Jesus. “I agree he may be feigning injury, but tomorrow is the Sabbath day. The Lord created the world in six days, and on the seventh day he rested. In the law of Moses, he commands us to rest on the Sabbath day and keep it holy.”

  “That’s what you said when you told me you could not help me sail on the Sabrina. That is the law of your people. But this man is Greek. He does not even believe in your god, much less follow your god’s laws.”

  “But I believe, and I follow his laws,” said Jesus. “And the law in Scripture clearly states that when we keep the Sabbath, we must keep it as a day of rest, not only for ourselves, but for our servants and slaves as well. Let’s set up camp before the sun goes down.”

  Arvigarus gestured at Pirro. “I don’t suppose you might trouble him to give us a hand?”

  Pirro was already approaching. “Of course, Pirro is always ready to serve his master and his friend.” But then, halfway toward them, he began limping.

  Jesus and Arvigarus looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

  The next morning Arvigarus told Jesus he was going to visit a nearby village. Jesus tried to devote the day to his prayers, but he found it hard to concentrate. Pirro gorged himself on the food Arvigarus had left. He should have served his master first, but Jesus decided he did not care. He meant to fast that Sabbath, anyway.

  Pirro came to Jesus and mumbled some appreciation for his kindness.

  “I do not want to be kind to you,” answered Jesus. “Your treachery cost the lives of many good men.” His voice swelled. “How many children lost their fathers because of your greed? How many wives lost their husbands? I sentenced you to be sold into slavery because it was the kind of slow death you deserved, and I would do it again. I thought I was rid of you. The prince buying you was not my idea. I never wanted to own any slave, least of all you. I would have left you with that slaver, and you would be dead by now if Arvigarus had not bought you, so you can thank him, not me, for your miserable life. I do not even want to look at you!”

  Pirro remained silent.

  Jesus sighed and continued more calmly. “When I saw you at the slave dealer’s, I was glad I did not have any money. I could not have bought you even if I had wanted to. I walked away thinking you were going to die, and I was glad it was out of my hands.

  “I wish I knew what to do with you now, but I don’t. Maybe I should cast you aside and let you be caught and put to death as a runaway slave. But it seems to be God’s will that you continue to have a hand in my life, for good or ill. I cannot give you back to Arvigarus without gravely insulting him, I don’t have it in me to be a proper slave owner, and you are too emaciated and lazy for me to sell you. There doesn’t seem to be any way to set you free while you bear that tattoo. So, there you have it. I am bound to you just as much as you are bound to me. Don’t ever thank me again for being kind to you, because I am not. Now, go away and leave me alone.”

  Arvigarus returned shortly after sundown. He appeared self-satisfied over dinner. “So…did you have a good time in the village?” Jesus asked.

  “I actually do not mind that we had to spend an extra day here on account of your Sabbath thing.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I hired one of the town’s lovely wenches.”

  “Huh?”

  “Sorry, I would have asked you to join me. We could have taken turns.”

  Jesus scowled, his face heating. “No, I would not have joined you.”

  “It was great, but you obviously do not approve. Why not? I paid her well, and I think she enjoyed it, too.”

  “It’s really not my business. But you’re right. I do not approve.”

  “What’s wrong with it? She makes money, and we both have a good time.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she just tells you she has a good time, but she tells that to everyone because she needs the money. Maybe her family is starving and she is letting you use her body because she has no choice. What about her reputation? Who will ever marry her?”

  “I wasn’t the one who told her to sell her body. She already had her reputation before I even saw her today.”

  “Who will provide for your child if she has it?”

  “Who cares? If she doesn’t have my bastard, she is going to have someone else’s.”

  “Do you still have any of your father’s money left?”

  “Enough to make it to Caer Leir.”

  “Then what?”

  “My sister will give us what we need from there.”

  Jesus rolled his eyes.

  “What’s wrong now?”

  “That is not the point. Your father gave you money to see us all the way to Ynys Môn, not for you to show up at your sister’s house as a beggar. I remember what Guiderius said, and he was right. You spend your father’s money foolishly—first to buy a useless slave, and now to hire a whore.”

  At first he thought Arvigarus might react violently. Then he saw that his words had hit home. Arvigarus appeared to be ashamed.

  “I am sorry, this is not my business,” Jesus said. “As Jews, we are taught to be chaste outside of marriage. Let’s have some mead and go to sleep.”

  The mead loosened them up. By the time they retired for the night, Jesus and Arvigarus were laughing and joking again. As much as Arvigarus could be a rogue, he was never mean spirited.

  As they paddled up the Avon over the next days, the portages became more frequent. It was bad enough that Pirro seemed to go through the motion of paddling rather than putting any effort into it. Jesus could pretend not to notice. But the portages were worse. It was impossible to ignore Pirro’s laziness when he seemed to take the smallest possible load on his own shoulders while Jesus and Arvigarus struggled with the boat and the larger sacks.

  Finally, they reached a point where the river became too shallow, so they abandoned the boat and started eastward on foot. Weighed down with their supplies, they came to a steep escarpment. Jesus took the lead on all fours with Pirro in the middle and Arvigarus bringing up the rear.

  As he started up the path, Pirro suddenly cried out in pain. “My foot! It’s injured.” They waited a minute to see if it would improve. “I’ll never make it up the path if I have to carry anything.”

  “That’s it. I’ve had it.” Arvigarus pulled out the whip. He worked it relentlessly over Pirro’s backside.

  Pirro cried out loudly enough to be heard all through the river valley. Hi
s punishment over, he looked to Jesus.

  “What are you looking at me for?” Jesus said. “I am not a slave driver, but that does not mean I have to be nice to you.”

  Without another word, Pirro picked up the packs he had dropped. He suddenly seemed able to carry his share of the load without a problem.

  Daniel

  Daniel sat by Mary’s bedside in her house on Ynys Witrin and applied cold compresses to her forehead. The days had turned to weeks, and still there was no sign that her fever was breaking. It had started a day after Kendrick had brought the Roman coinage.

  Everything had been going so well, until the autumn. They were working a good lode of silver ore and had found a second that they alone knew about. Jesus’s technique for working the silver into Celtic patterns on the bronze ware created a unique medium that certainly would sell well among the Romans. The first shipload sent back to Armorica was sure to return large profits.

  But everything had gone sour in the space of only a few months.

  Workmen for a rival miner, Horshak, were digging all over the hillside where the new lode was located. Daniel was stuck; he could not hire workers, and he could not ask Grengan to reserve the area without proof that he had a working mine on the new lode. The lack of Roman coin had prevented him from hiring workers. Kendrick had finally appeared with a new supply of money, but Mary had fallen ill the next day, and Daniel could not leave her to supervise the operation.

  Esmeralda had to be working against him. Word is out that she claimed Mary lives too close to the sacred Tor. Grengan says he will defend Mary, but I’m sure there is going to be trouble.

  Daniel felt weighed down, as if all that un-mined ore rested on his shoulders. His aunt was in danger, and he could not leave her in the hands of strangers, no matter how friendly they were. He could pay people to look after her, but that was not the same as having family there. I would never be able to explain to Jesus why I was a day’s journey away in Priddy if Mary were to die.