Valnor frantically reached behind his saddle to pull out a small bag of coins. He clumsily opened the purse and poured the coins into his open hand and quickly counted up the gold coins.
“Seventy-two . . . Seventy-three,” Valnor counted out loud. “Caesar’s will stated all citizens shall receive four thousand sesterces. All that is left of Caesar’s legacy is seventy-three coins.
“Here, take them,” Valnor shouted as he flung the fist full of coins at the soldier with uncontained contempt. “Take them and be gone, citizen. You have successfully picked clean the bones of your murdered general.”
The word ‘citizen’ hit the man and inflicted more pain than any of the seventy-three coins that plunked off his chest and face. The man was retired, but he served, and that service carried with it the distinction of being called a soldier. By virtue of his selfish acts, he was being discharged from his lifetime of service for a measly seventy-three sesterces.
“I am a soldier of Rome,” the veteran hollered back at Valnor without paying the least bit attention to the coins lying at his feet. “I earned that honor, it is mine and no one can rob me of it.”
“You have robbed yourself of the honor by failing to fight for Rome and the memory of your slain General. You are not worthy to stand among the noble soldiers of Rome. Leave! Your presence is . . . offensive.”
“No,” the veteran protested. “I fight with honor.”
“Then you fight for me,” Valnor declared. “I seek to restore the Roman Republic to its most honorable place and dislodge the usurper of Caesar’s mantle; therefore you fight for my cause. Are you with me?”
The crowd of soldiers exploded with cheers and promises to rid the world of Caesar’s enemies. Everyone present, to a man, enlisted into Valnor’s private army. The only guaranteed compensation promised them was the pride they carried in being soldiers. The coin would come, but at the moment that seemed quite unimportant.
Chapter 42: Head on a Platter
The time Jesus, Tonwen and Gallono spent visiting the towns around the Sea of Galilee was well spent. Jews, Samaritans, Romans, believers, and atheists alike flocked to hear the legendary preacher. They came to witness first-hand the miracles he wrought, but stayed to hear his message. At first most would dismiss him as a quack, but now the legend, the massive following, the wonders he worked all made this a bona fide movement, and the movement now had the attention of the religious elite.
“You claim to be a man of God, yet you defy his laws by working on the Sabbath,” a man sporting a long beard and purple robes of a high priest challenged. “We have all heard many accounts of you performing miracles of healing on the Sabbath, even when their life was not in danger.”
“The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath,” Jesus responded. “Your petty rules are ridiculous. Yes, the law permits a person to do good works on the Sabbath. The almighty is a God of people.”
“You Pharisees place your rules above human needs. You are more loyal to your religious system than to God and his true intentions,” Jesus turned his attention away from the man toward the crowd. “Everything they do is done for people to see: They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long. They love the place of honor at banquets and the most important seats in the synagogues. They teach the laws of Moses, so you must be careful to do everything they tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach. They tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on others, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them.
“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to,” Jesus concluded to resounding applause from the crowd.
“A more compelling orator I have never heard,” Gallono marveled. “He speaks kind words at a level everyone understands, and I have yet to see even one of the many hecklers throw him off with their loaded questions. I can see why you employ him as the front man for this little ruse of yours.”
“When I first entered this area thirty years ago under the captain’s orders I tried with everything I am to be the leader, but I have no talent for it,” Tonwen admitted. “I came to realize the reason for my repeated failure was I did not believe what I was preaching. You know me, I am not a religious man. Quite the contrary, I am an ardent opponent to organized religions and their concept of a higher power.”
“When it comes to matters of faith, if people sense you’re trying to pull one over on them, they won’t listen. No matter how many people you feed or heal,” Gallono agreed.
“Since that realization I have been forced to use any number of zealots I have come upon,” Tonwen went on. “The problem with religious fanatics is most are unstable or flat out crazy.
“Uncontrollable at the very least,” Gallono mused.
“Precisely,” Tonwen sighed. “The last man I thought was the one, until he lost his mind and ran off to confront King Herod alone in his seat of power. The fool got himself arrested just when his movement was beginning to get some legs.”
“Yes, I heard,” Gallono said. “It’s a wonder the man is still alive. King Herod must be amusing himself by making the man’s life a living hell.”
“I have not been able to forgive myself for his arrest,” Tonwen lamented. “It was my words that drove him to action and his subsequent capture.”
Gallono saw the hurt behind his friend’s eyes and tried to comfort him. “It’s dangerous work challenging the establishment. So many powerful people have their enchanted livelihoods tied to it. If the man is as committed to his beliefs as you say, then I imagine he is profoundly honored to suffer for his faith.”
Tonwen wiped a regretful tear from his eye, “I fear the same fate awaits Jesus, and it will be my doing once more.”
Tonwen opened his mouth to expound upon the statement, but was interrupted by a man hollering at the top of his lungs as he barreled into the mass of followers to reach Jesus.
“He’s dead; they killed him” the man screamed as he shoved men, women, and even children out of his way to reach Jesus and collapse at his feet in a demented, wailing heap.
“Who?” Jesus responded. “Who has died?”
“The Baptist,” the man managed. “That cruel pagan Herod cut his head off and served it to his wife on a silver platter.”
The words hit Jesus with all the force of a boulder flung from a catapult. He staggered back in an aimless daze while struggling to remain vertical. Tonwen rushed to his side but was brushed away by an unforgiving stiff arm. “Get away. My teachings make enemies. I’m a danger to my friends and must get away.”
“This is what Herod wants,” Tonwen pleaded while Jesus labored alone to cast a tiny row boat into the lake waters. “This was done to terrify you, make you retreat into solitude rather than continue your work. If you quit now, he wins and our friend will have died for nothing.”
“I must be alone with my thoughts and my God,” Jesus countered. He then climbed into the boat, and used an ore to cast out further into the waters before Tonwen or anyone else in the crowd could dissuade him.
Contrary to all logic, when the shepherd rowed away from his flock, they did not scatter. They simply watched their teacher fade away to a tiny speck on the horizon and then collectively asked, “What now?”
“We go after him,” Tonwen emphatically answered. “He may be willing to let Herod win, but we are not. We will not let that false king of the Jews take our teacher from us.”
Five townsmen grabbed their horses and rode along the shoreline to track where Jesus finally landed his boat and relayed the position back to the masses that proceeded on foot to find their teacher, their miracle worker. The man they increasingly believed was the one prophesized to deliver the chosen people from their Roman oppressors.
Just before sun set, Tonwen lead a crowd greater than five thousand men plus women and children to Jesus’
place of meditation. When Jesus saw their approach he rose from his knees. Tonwen expected his friend to react in anger, but there was not a drop of hatred in his eyes or body language. He had the look of a new man, a man with a renewed sense of purpose.
“You have traveled far,” Jesus proclaimed. “Please go home, for it is evening dinner time and I have nothing to eat. Not for me, and certainly not for the thousands who stand before me.”
“I have two fish,” a boy no older than five offered.
“I have a loaf of bread,” cried another along with four others.
Before Jesus could speak a definitive denial of their offerings, Tonwen jumped in. “Bring the five loaves and two fish forward and bare witness that these will be sufficient to feed the multitudes gathered in this desert place.”
Gallono’s hesitant movements clearly did not share Tonwen’s optimism as he coaxed the camel he kept in tow to sit upon the hot sands. He beckoned Tonwen over for a private chat as he riffled through the packs until he found a backpack with a funnel protruding from the top. He set the device on a rock and pulled a metal tray out from the bottom which brought a connecting slide along with it. He set the tray on the ground, grabbed a fist full of sand and poured it into the funnel and then looked at Tonwen with concern.
“This food replicator is designed to support four or five people living in the wilderness, not four or five thousand ,” Gallono protested quietly. “It can only work so fast, plus the parts will overheat and fuse together if it runs for too long.”
Jesus interrupted the discussion by setting a basket holding the limited quantities of fish and bread next to the machine. He was familiar with its operation so he casually dropped a fish into the funnel and waited for the result. While the device hummed softly he looked at Tonwen with concern. “You have promised these people too much. This tool of yours cannot possibly deliver the miracle you have promised. What is your plan?”
The question hung in the air between the three men squatting around the replicator as it struggled to transform the molecules from the sand into a replica of the fish. After five long minutes an exact replica of the fish came out the bottom of the device, rolled down the slide and landed on the plate. The device then immediately started work on a second.
“We definitely have a problem,” Gallono concluded with a huff.
Without another word, Gallono and Tonwen stood up and moved around the seated camel to disperse the crowds by informing them that the promised miracle would not happen. The deed was too great even for the prophet they revered. Tonwen could only think of the damage this would do to the reputation of Jesus.
Tonwen opened his mouth to publically admit his failure but was cut short by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked to his right to see Jesus stepping past him with a mounding basket of fish in his arms. He placed it on the ground and declared, “Come everyone, a great feast is at hand.”
Gallono and Tonwen exchanged looks of complete and utter shock. It took five minutes to replicate one fish and here in a matter of seconds Jesus carried a basket full of hundreds. They both dashed back around the camel to inspect the replicator device. To their amazement the machine was spitting out fish after fish from the bottom.
Jesus calmly walked past the dumbfounded men, grabbed a hand full of sand from the ground and dropped it into the funnel. “I think I figured out a better way to use your tool here, I hope you don’t mind my tinkering with it.” Tonwen certainly didn’t mind, but he was baffled by what he saw.
That night thousands gathered to enjoy the feast, and listened intently to the man who just performed a miracle before their eyes. The crowd was abuzz with excitement, and one word was heard more than any other – Messiah.
Away from the masses, Gallono leaned into Tonwen for a discreet conversation, “Who is a Messiah?”
Tonwen gazed upon his friend Jesus with a wondrous eye and answered. “The Messiah is a figure prophesized about in their religious texts, a man who will be their physical and spiritual savior. It is said he will bring the entire world to worship the same deity together. He will rebuild the nation of Israel, destroy the wicked, and ultimately judge the whole world.”
“Hmm, that’s a big job,” Gallono mused. “Is anyone up to it?”
“Over the years, many have claimed to be the Messiah,” Tonwen instructed. “Several have tried to cast out the Romans but failed miserably, but Jesus just might. He won’t overcome their military of course, but he will demolish their polytheistic faith in those Gods the Alpha created for Rome to follow. That will strip the Alpha of their influence and power so we can finally eradicate their destructive presence on this planet once and for all.”
“All we need do is make sure Jesus fits nicely into the prophecies already written so the entire Hebrew nation will believe in his teachings,” Tonwen concluded.
Gallono let loose a labored sigh, “That’s easier said than done I’m afraid. I think keeping him alive will soon turn into our full time job.”
Chapter 43: Enemy at the Gates
Tomal rolled over onto his side while reclining on his plush couch. He reached for a cup of wine resting on a knee high square table in front of the couch. As he did, Tomal’s eye followed the movements of the hard bodied slave girl who just finished refilling his cup and now moved on to the next party guest. His eyes lusted after the woman whose sheer white dress allowed the silhouette of her exquisite form to show through. He felt his pulse quicken while her back was turned and her identity a mystery.
The instant she turned her face to the side and filled another wine glass, Tomal lost interest. She was strikingly beautiful, but Tomal already christened that particular slave several times that week. He was not yet bored of her beauty, but this was an orgy party and exerting his limited energy on a slave he could have any day of the week would be a waste. Tomal’s focus drifted to the dozens of female party guests who stood or reclined on other couches around the atrium of his villa.
Like the eyes of a jungle cat lurking in the tall grass, Tomal’s hungry stare made its way around the room. Some women were short, others tall. Some were fat, while most appropriately skinny. Tomal’s libido was indifferent to any of them however, until he spotted the one. Her white dress was gathered around her waist by a fine rope belt. The dress extended only half way down her immaculately sculpted thighs. Her voluptuous breasts were barely concealed from view by two vertical pieces of white fabric that extended from her waist and tied behind her neck.
Tomal locked his eyes on the woman until she finally turned her head his way. A playful grin crossed her lips as the two exchanged an amorous stare. She slowly turned her head away and paced over to a vacant couch and took a seat.
Tomal got the message loud and clear. He placed his wine goblet on the table and fought through his drunken haze to get on his feet. Tomal made his way across the room and came to a stop standing over the object of his affection.
“Is there anything you need from your host my dear?” Tomal asked.
The woman’s eyes glanced upward to meet his. “Oh yes. There are multiple things you can give me.” She then closed her eyes, reclined back onto the couch, and waited for the party host to oblige her wishes.
Tomal stepped forward to disrobe the woman when a firm hand grabbed his shoulder from behind; preventing further progress. Rage and frustration boiled over. Unless the world was coming to an end at that moment, the owner of the restraining hand would soon be dead. Tomal spun around and followed the hand to a muscular arm attached to an armor plated chest. Tomal raised his eyes to look into the face of Coranus, the General in command of his third legion.
“What?” Tomal barked. “What in the name of the gods is so important that it couldn’t wait twenty minutes for a more opportune time?”
“Oh, he would have been occupied for many hours good sir,” the young woman sighed as she rose to her feet and walked back into the fray of the party.
Tomal watched in dismay as his prize vanished from view. He then snap
ped his flaming stare back to his general. “This better be good or your wife, sisters and daughter will have to fill in for the woman you just drove away.”
General Coranus swallowed hard knowing Tomal’s words were no idle threat. “Octavian and his army are marching on the city.”
“That’s it?”Tomal snapped. “You interrupt my party to report that an army of ten thousand grey haired codgers led by a spineless whelp approach a city I have defended by three well trained armies.
“Idiot,” Tomal hollered and grabbed Coranus by the throat and drew his face in close. “Where is your wife? I start with her.”
“Forty thousand approach,” General Coranus croaked. “The veterans recruited men from every town and village they passed on their way to Rome.”
Tomal reluctantly released his grip. “That’s truly tragic for you, Coranus. Your wife would have learned a few things to please you with on future occasions. Now you’ll just have to make do with crushing Octavian once and for all. Assemble the armies on the most advantageous high ground between Rome and the approaching force.”
General Coranus delivered a crisp salute and made his way toward the kitchen in order to exit the festivities through the back door. Tomal strutted to the center of the party and clapped his hands three times to induce silence around the room.
“My dear friends,” Tomal said with the confident voice of a man who owned the moment. “Urgent business of the Republic requires my attention. Please stay and enjoy the festivities as my honored guests. I will not be gone long.”
Tomal then made his way toward the front door of his villa but had his path blocked by the striking woman he so desperately desired.
She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “See you soon.” She then ran her hand along Tomal’s chest as he continued his march to the villa’s front entrance. Before opening the door, Tomal adjusted the fit of his toga so his excited state of mind would not be so pointedly clear to the casual observer.
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