Centurion's Rise

by Henrikson, Mark

  To his great surprise, Tonwen was joined by hundreds of men and their families making the ten mile trek to BSimony and the extra ten miles to the banks of the Jordan River. As they all passed under the city gates and left the protective walls, the magnitude of the movement he was now a part of hit home. A seemingly endless sea of peasants dressed in the finest garments their meager means could afford packed a road leading to an insignificant town most maps did not even bother to label.

  Tonwen joined the flow of humanity moving eastward. He was intent on keeping to himself for the day’s journey, but the jubilant mood of those around him was infectious. Music and singing filled the air while children giggled, danced, and played as they went. The only element spoiling the festivities were the armed Roman guards standing watch alongside the road.

  During the course of Rome’s civil war, the ‘noble and wise’ Mark Antony saw fit to appoint Herod the Great as King of the Jews and rule Judea as a client kingdom. Tonwen thought it rather predictable that the man Tomal appointed turned out to be a raving lunatic who executed enemies, friends, clergy and even family members at will. Now Herod’s intensely unpopular playboy son, Herod Antipas, oversaw the Jews. The man remained in power only through the use of Roman arms against his own people.

  “Move along Jew,” seemed to be their favorite phrase. A person could shut out the random catcalls, but the gruff treatment at the periodic checkpoints was another matter entirely.

  “Papers,” a half drunk guard barked at Tonwen. “Come on you pig nasty Jew show me your travel papers or you can join the other vermin in a holding cell.”

  Tonwen looked to his left at a makeshift cattle corral holding dozens of dejected travelers under arrest for not carrying their census documents and proof of tax payment. Just in front of the corral six soldiers tended to a gigantic pig roasting on a spit over an open flame. The Jews considered pigs an unclean animal, so it struck Tonwen as rather ironic that the soldier hassling him chose the phrase ‘pig nasty Jew’ when he and his cohorts were the ones consuming the unclean swine.

  All of Tonwen’s papers were in order, but that wasn’t enough for the soldier. “Why do you have a camel in tow rather than riding on it? Are you too stupid to know what the animal is for Jew? I’ll put it to better use; hand it over.”

  Tonwen kept the reins in his left hand and met the soldier’s probing grasp with his right. The clink of ten silver Sesterces between their palms got the soldier’s attention. “The animal serves me well as is, but I am certain these coins will be of adequate service to you.”

  The soldier kept his hand low, and opened the palm to conduct a quick audit. His eyes sparkled at the sight of a month’s wages in the palm of his hand. He kept the coin and forcefully shoved Tonwen on down the path. “Move along Jew, the worthless beast looks ready to fall over anyway. Leave it to a stupid Jew to buy a worthless animal. Go on, move along.”

  Tonwen did as commanded, and kept his head down to avoid any more contact with extortion minded Romans. His purse was significantly lighter now, and a repeat of the previous encounter would leave him without means to protect his valuable cargo through bribery. He needed a solution, and just when the thought entered his mind, the answer came; with a smile.

  “If you continue walking alone,” the man beside Tonwen commented, “Your purse will grow all the lighter. Come, friend, join us so our strength of numbers will keep the greedy vultures at a harmless distance.”

  Tonwen looked to his right and saw an outstretched hand attached to a very muscular man with deeply tanned skin, an unshaved face, and a genuine smile. Behind him, no fewer than fifty men women and children walked as one party. Tonwen gratefully met the extended hand with his own.

  “I accept your kind offer,” Tonwen said. “My name is Simon.”

  The man pulled Tonwen forward and wrapped his arm around his shoulders in a one armed embrace, “Welcome, I am Isa, and I do not know who any of these other people are, but we stick together like family for a safe journey.”

  “These damned Romans,” another traveler spat. “They all need to burn in hell for the evils they bring upon us here in our own land. We are many, they are few. We should fight and drive them out.”

  “They are soldiers, best in the world bar none,” Isa countered, “We are simple farmers, sheep herders and carpenters.”

  “Even Roman soldiers can die,” the traveler countered.

  “They die harder than most,” another traveler announced. “It will take the coming of the anointed one, a great leader and warrior, to rid us of this evil.”

  “Yes,” Isa concluded, “And that is why we go to see this Prophet from the wilderness, to judge if he is that warrior we so desperately seek.”

  The debate continued on among the traveling group, but Isa left the discussion behind and returned his attention to his new friend. “Now tell me, Simon, you appear to own a healthy camel. Why do you not take advantage and ride rather than walk?”

  Tonwen let out a soft, reflective laugh as he looked at the haggard animal he led. “I have spent many years riding on his back, he could use the rest.”

  “A kind gesture,” Isa judged.

  “I wish it were all good will on my part, but the truth is my saddle sores demand I walk on my own two feet for a while,” Tonwen admitted.

  Isa roared with a deep belly laugh and slapped Tonwen playfully on the back. “The grass is always greener on the other side. I have come all the way from Egypt, but my swollen feet give evidence that I made the journey entirely on foot. What I would give for a sore rump instead.”

  “You traveled almost 400 miles on foot?” Tonwen asked.

  “It’s a small price to pay to see the prophet with my own eyes and hear his message with my own ears,” Isa answered. “Think about it, we have the chance to hear the words of a man touched by God. This opportunity may never come again.”

  “You are a believer then,” Tonwen asked with a touch of resentment in his tone. “You have not even met the man, you only have the stories people tell.”

  With a whimsical glance to the heavens above Isa replied, “I’ve heard his message from those people and it speaks to me. Every religious leader I know wants something from me: money, sacrifice of live animals, or blind obedience to outdated rules.”

  “You will get no counter argument from me,” Tonwen said softly, just in case a Pharisee happened to be anywhere within earshot. The strict enforcers of Moses’ laws would not take kindly to the exchange taking place between him and Isa.

  “The part of our teachings that truly vexes me,” Isa went on, “Is the utter absence of compassion for anyone else that isn’t part of the ‘chosen people.’ I refuse to pray to a wrathful god who condemns ninety nine people out of one hundred to eternal damnation, and there is nothing to be done about it. The God in my heart has compassion, and this prophet speaks his meaning.”

  “I wish my faith were as strong as yours my friend,” Tonwen admired. “I am still a skeptic.”

  “A hopeful one apparently,” Isa joked, “Otherwise why make the journey at all?”

  “Indeed,” Tonwen answered with an inward smile.

  The miles passed quickly as the two continued their ideological debate, which came to an end at the sandy bank of the River Jordan. At the gathering point, the river was only a hundred feet wide, and rose barely past a man’s waist at the deepest spot. On the other side of the moving waters lay an unforgiving, barren wasteland that only a mindless fool would choose to endure.

  An eerie silence hung over the thousands gathered while they waited for the Prophet to appear. At first glance the silence looked to be induced by the Roman soldiers posted around the gathering to make sure rebellion was not in the offing. The emotion behind the silence was not fear though, it was hope. The crowd hoped beyond all reason that this man was the anointed one who would rid them of the oppressive Roman rule.

  Tonwen, the consummate religious cynic, pitied the desperate fools around him. He knew what was about to
happen. An angelic looking man would gracefully stroll out of the barren wasteland wearing pristine clothing, thus implying he could not be fazed by earthly conditions. Then he’d proceed to flatter the crowd with vague platitudes and predictions of grandeur in their near future. Some would see right through it, but others would eat it up and ask for more.

  These people, like his new friend Isa, most likely were the ones this wilderness preacher wanted. These people would be his to command and manipulate as he saw fit. It was so predicable it nearly made Tonwen want to vomit; instead, he simply waited patiently with the sheep for the show to begin.

  On the far side of the river, Tonwen noticed a rustling of the chest high thicket of crab grass, vines, and thorn bushes. The disturbance was moving closer to the shore.

  “He’s coming, he’s coming,” a few among the crowd shouted.

  Moments later the preacher emerged from the wilderness and Tonwen saw at once his expectation could not have been more wrong. Instead of the angelic figure wearing robes of white, the man wading out into the water appeared to be next of kin to a wild boar. His hair had not seen a barber or comb in ages, and his face was equally unfamiliar with the touch of a razor. He wore a shirt woven from camel hair, and covering his privy parts was a skimpy leather girdle barely up to the task.

  In addition to his physical appearance, the man’s personal stature was not at all what Tonwen expected. This individual wasn’t strong and intimidating. In fact, he was so thin and parched he looked like a reed shaking in the wind. At any moment the man looked ready to snap, both physically and mentally.

  The wilderness preacher made his way through the waist high river as he began hollering his sermon to those gathered. “Behold the Baptist is here; come to plunge you under these waters and wash away your many sins so you may walk away from this place with a clear conscience. Is that what is on your mind; instant absolution of you wrongdoings? Be gone then, for the cleansing of one’s spirit in the eyes of God is not so easily earned.

  “I baptize with water those who repent of their sins and turn to God,” the preacher went on as he came to a stop in knee high water near the crowd. He reached down and scooped up a handful, and then tipped his hand and allowed the water to slowly return to the river. “Baptism is an outward sign of commitment, a commitment to an inward change of attitude leading to a changed life. I baptize people as a sign that they have asked God to forgive their sins and they have decided to live as the almighty desires for them.”

  “Who are you to offer forgiveness?” a man dressed in fine robes of blue and gold, standing among a dozen other men with equally lavish wardrobes. “I see no priestly robes about you. Our laws clearly state that only a priest of the Temple has authority to absolve others of sin.”

  “What good are the Temple priests?” the wilderness preacher shot back. “When was the last time any of them took even a single step away from the temple grounds? If ones mission is to prepare others for God’s final judgment, he needs to be out in the world, among the people in the most desperate need of saving.”

  “Why do we need saving?” another man from the same cluster asked. “The book of Deuteronomy states we Hebrews are the treasured people of God. Again, the book of Exodus states we are God’s chosen people. Hebrews have an unbreakable covenant with God already.”

  The wilderness preacher grew violently angry at the statement. He thrashed through the water onto the shore and charged the group of hecklers. “You brood of vipers. Don’t just say to each other, ‘we’re safe, for we are descendants of Abraham;’ that means nothing I tell you.

  “Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God. God looks beyond our words and religious activities to see if our conduct matches what we say, and he judges our words by the actions that accompany them.

  “The chosen people are those who believe, recognize their shortcomings, and truly ask for help and forgiveness for those failings,” the wildly enraged preacher shouted as he thrust both fists into the air. “The chosen people are those who live their lives by God’s example and fight with every ounce of their being to further his kingdom on earth.

  “Just as a fruit tree is expected to bear fruit,” the preacher went on. “God’s people should produce a crop of good deeds. God has no use for people who call themselves the chosen but live otherwise. If others can’t see your faith in the way you treat them, then you have no covenant with God.”

  “Even now the axe of his judgment is poised,” he shouted in a gravelly voice to the crowd. “He stands ready to sever the roots of every tree that does not produce good fruit. These useless timbers will be chopped down and tossed into a never ending fire.”

  “I’m a tax collector,” a man admitted from the crowd. “People call me a thief and a traitor for performing these duties. Is there redemption for me? What must I do?”

  “Collect no more taxes than the government requires,” the preacher replied. He looked ready to expand on his statement, but was interrupted.

  “Enough of this,” a Roman guard boomed from behind the crowd, which instantly induced a terrified silence. Tonwen recognized the guard as the greedy fellow who took ten silver coins from him earlier in the day. This should be interesting Tonwen thought to himself.

  “I’m not a Hebrew,” the guard went on as he paced through the parting crowd toward the preacher. “And I muscle your people around like cattle. When my purse runs light I pilfer more coin from those I stand watch over. How can a man like me earn redemption with your God?”

  The soldier came to a stop directly in front of the preacher, spread his feet shoulder width apart, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited for an adequate answer.

  “If you truly seek forgiveness and desire to walk on the righteous path from this day forward,” the Baptist instructed without a hint of fear, “you will follow me into these waters, ask for God’s forgiveness with a true heart and then come up from beneath the water’s surface born anew in the eyes of the almighty. Then you will seek absolution from those you’ve wronged and from this day forward you will no longer extort money or make false accusations. You will be content with your pay and live a life of example.”

  Without a sound, the guard followed the preacher into the waters of the Jordan River. The wiry preacher pinched the man’s nose and forced him to lay back and then plunged him completely beneath the water’s surface. A second later the soldier erupted from the water, gasping for air and shaking his entire upper body to shed the water stubbornly clinging to his form.

  The only sound heard by the thousands gathered was the soft babbling of water over the rolling stones of the river. No one knew what would happen next. Would the guard snap the preacher’s neck for assaulting him? Would he order the other guards present to attack the crowd? Would he go to the other extreme and start speaking in unintelligible religious tongues? The next few moments would answer such questions.

  The soldier shrugged off the preacher’s touch and made his way back to the shoreline while wiping away the water continuing to trickle into his eyes. He abruptly stopped and slowly surveyed the crowd with a rotating head; searching for something – someone.

  His gaze finally passed over Tonwen and a spark of recognition hit the man. Still with only the gently flowing water as an audible backdrop, the soldier paced a straight line to Tonwen. He stopped in front of him and reached his hand toward the sword attached to his right hip. The hand moved past the deadly instrument and instead wrapped around a leather purse. The bag of coins landed in Tonwen’s hand with a clink.

  “Today I begin my life of example,” the soldier said softly and then moved past Tonwen heading for the road back to Jerusalem.

  The soldier’s miraculous change of heart clearly spoke volumes to Tonwen’s new friend Isa. The man was so moved by the experience that he seized Tonwen’s hand and raced both of them forward to meet the preacher in the waist high river waters.

  “We are simple men living simple lives. What should w
e do?” Isa begged of the preacher.

  “If you have two shirts, give one to the poor,” the preacher replied for everyone watching to hear. “If you have food, share it with those who are hungry.”

  “I will,” Isa pledged.

  “Then receive this baptism as a symbol of your commitment to a new, righteous life,” the preacher declared and then plunged him under the waters and left him to emerge on his own accord. Without looking back the preacher moved on to Tonwen and dunked him under the waves as well.

  The rush of water into his nose and ears thoroughly disoriented Tonwen for several seconds. Finally he reestablished a firm footing beneath his frame and rose up out of the water. As his head breached the surface he opened his eyes and saw the blinding light of the mid-day sun lancing through the thick clouds. His blindness only lasted a moment before the dense cloud cover of the dreary day obscured the sun once more.

  As the water drained from his ear canal, Tonwen was able to hear once more.

  “ . . . well pleased.” He heard before turning around to face the preacher again. Hundreds of pilgrims were now following Isa and Tonwen’s example and receiving their baptism at the hands of this man.

  “I am well pleased to see so many grasping their chance at redemption,” the preacher shouted as he dunked the pilgrims one after the other. The preacher stopped his actions for a moment when he saw the cluster of well-dressed men and many other skeptics leaving while shaking their heads and flailing their arms in disbelief.

  “Mark my words,” he admonished the departing soles. “Everyone will one day be baptized – either now by God’s Holy Spirit, or later by the fire of his judgment.”

  Chapter 21: That Man Doesn’t Know How to Win a War

  “Where is my nephew?” Caesar demanded.

  “It appears his ship went down as we crossed the Adriatic to reach Greece,” Mark Antony replied. “The nearest vessel lost sight of his ship during the storm, and we’ve had no word since.”