The Honorable Knight

by Patrick John Donahoe

  Elymas and Gaspar returned to their homes in Jerusalem the next morning.

  The three Magi took me aside after Elymas and Gaspar had left, and Melchior told me, “Your first mission is to take Joseph, Mary and the child to your home in Egypt and keep them safe until Herod is dead and they can safely return to Nazareth.”

  “What about Elymas and Gaspar?”

  “Don’t concern yourself about Elymas and Gaspar. This is your mission. Will you accept?”

  “How can I refuse? Of course I will. But will Joseph and Mary go with me?”

  “They will. We believe they’ve been warned also.”

  The Magi then administered an oath, and I covenanted to take on a mission to protect and defend the defenseless. They gave me a cup of well water to drink, and I fell violently ill for two days. I dreamed vague feverish dreams of events which hadn’t yet transpired. The Magi watched over me until I recovered from the mysterious illness and fever, then we parted ways.

  I returned to my shop in Jerusalem to retrieve a few personal belongings and then returned to Bethlehem to gather up Joseph, Mary and the Child.”

  Achmed paused, “Are there any questions?”

  “You took Mary, Joseph, and Jesus to Egypt?” Ian asked.

  “Yes, it was my privilege to do so.”

  Ian stared at Achmed. “Incredible.” Ian looked at his three companions for comment, but they remained silent. “Is there more to this story?”

  Achmed continued. I will relate some of the following events as told to me weeks later when we were safe in Egypt. Herod’s soldiers arrived at Elymas’ residence and escorted him to Herod’s presence in the palace. Herod was in discussion with his tax advisor, obtaining an update on the revenues realized the previous month when Elymas arrived. Gaspar was sitting on the stone floor with a palace guard standing over him. Elymas knew this didn’t bode well and feared for his life.

  Herod sat on his throne and bid Elymas and Gaspar to approach. They knelt before Herod’s throne and he imperiously stared down at them. “I’ve been informed that the two of you plus another accompanied the Magi to Bethlehem and saw this child called the new King of the Jews.”

  Gaspar kept his silence.

  Elymas said, “Yes, my Lord, we did.”

  Gaspar shot Elymas a glare.

  “And you, what have you to say?” Herod demanded of Gaspar.

  Gaspar remained silent.

  “We saw the child, sir, in Bethlehem,” Elymas volunteered.

  “And you? Herod asked, “Did you see the child?”

  Gaspar continued to remain silent.

  “Not answering demonstrates defiance to your King. I’ll have your head if you don’t respect me.” Herod paused. “You!” Herod addressed Elymas.

  “Elymas, sir.”

  “Elymas, where is your other companion? Achmed, I believe is his name.”

  “I don’t know, sir. The Magi went their way, and Achmed did not say where he was going. He has a linen shop in Jerusalem, Your Majesty.”

  “Do you know where the Magi went?”

  “No, Your Majesty, they never told us. They departed without a word.”

  “Guards, take this one,” demanded Herod, pointing to Gaspar, “to the dungeons and loosen his tongue. Keep the other under guard here in the palace. I may have need to speak to him again. Now go!”

  A few days later, Herod sent Elymas under the arrest of a contingent of his palace guards to Bethlehem in search of Mary, Joseph and the child. The inhabitants of Bethlehem told Elymas that the couple and their child had fled in the night in the company of an Egyptian, but no one could tell Elymas where they had gone.

  Elymas reported to Herod that the child and his parents were not to be found in Bethlehem.

  Herod had been informed that Mary and Joseph had taken the child to Zacharias, and when Zacharias wouldn’t tell the soldiers the child’s whereabouts, he was slain in the temple.

  By this time several weeks had passed. Herod was so infuriated by his inability to find the child, he ordered Elymas to return to Bethlehem under guard with two squads of eight soldiers each to kill all male children under two years of age. Elymas, sensing Herod’s increasing anger at not being able to eliminate the threat to his throne, feared for his life and escaped to Cyprus.”

  Twenty-Two

  “I’ve told you my story. I realize it may be difficult to accept. I would have trouble believing it myself had I not lived it, but it’s all true. I don’t expect you to agree to take on a 1,000 plus year mission on my short introduction, so I ask that you go your various ways and meet with me in the Garden of Gethsemane tomorrow evening just before sunset. Will you meet me there, regardless of what you think your answer will be?”

  “I have a question before we depart,” said Ian.

  “Ask away.”

  Ian asked Achmed, “What was Jesus like as a child?”

  Achmed replied, “Since the holy apostles didn’t see it in their wisdom to record or reveal the childhood of Jesus in their chronicles, I don’t see how I can justify telling you.”

  Jacques scoffed at Achmed’s reply. “Ha, you’ve read all the ancient fables and fabricated your version of what happened.”

  Seeing the disappointment on Ian’s face, Achmed added, “No, what little I’ve revealed is the truth. For Ian’s benefit, I add my testimony that Jesus was the perfect Son.”

  “I have a couple of questions before we depart,” Jacques said.

  “Ask away.”

  “You’re an Egyptian Coptic, but we’re an Irish Frankish Catholic,” pointing at Ian, “a Frankish agnostic, that’s me, a Jewish female,” pointing at Serena, “and a Muslim female,” pointing to Desiree. “We are not the apostles, like Peter or Paul, so what do you have in mind?”

  Achmed gave Jacques a piercing serious look and replied, “First, I knew this all along. These are your strengths; your diversity, your similarities and differences, and your loyalty to each other. Second, your mission is to protect mankind from evil persons and purposes, not serve as missionaries.”

  “Seems like a tall order for a youngish group such as us.”

  “You’re perfect for the task as you realize your potentials. There have been and will be others like you, so you won’t be alone.”

  “When will we meet them?”

  “When the need occurs your numbers will expand. I can tell you more if and when you accept the call. So if there are no more questions, will I see the four of you in the garden tomorrow evening?”

  Ian responded first, then Desiree, then Serena, and finally after an awkward silence, Jacques. All four answered in the affirmative.

  “Good . . . tomorrow, in the garden, just before sundown. Bring lamps.”

  As they walked away from Achmed’s shop, Jacques commented, “Do any of you really believe that crazy old man?”

  “I think I do,” replied Ian. The four of them walked silently past the 1000-year-old olive trees along the path toward Jerusalem. “Do you know what Gethsemane means?”

  Serena said, “It comes from the Hebrew, Gat Shemen, and means ‘oil press.’ The oil press is a heavy stone used to press and crush the olives or grapes to release the juices within.”

  Ian added, “It symbolizes the heavy burden of the sins of the world that Jesus took upon himself. It’s also where Judas betrayed Jesus with a false kiss, and Jesus was arrested by the chief priest and Roman soldiers.”

  “Didn’t Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant, Malchus, with a sword?” asked Jacques.

  “You would remember that part, yes, he did. And according to Luke, Jesus touched Malchus’ ear and healed it.”

  When they arrived at the front door of the hospital, Desiree bid them adieu and said, “Please come by and walk me to the garden tomorrow evening.”

  Likewise, Serena asked the young men to pick her up at the blacksmith shop for their next meeting with Achmed, then Ian and Jacques headed off to their quarters in the horse stables under the Temple mou
nt.

  Ian was up bright and early the next morning eager to start his personal day. He said his prayers, brushed and fed the horses, and headed off for the market place to the Malquisinat, the Street of Bad Cooking, to find something to eat. In the market place he found all the stalls teeming with activity. Produce and fruit were in abundance, many varieties of meats hung on hooks for the buyers’ inspection. Flies buzzed around the exposed fruits and meats. The stall owners occasionally brushed the flies away, but within minutes they returned.

  Textiles, spices, sandals, herbs, ointments, olive oil, wine, and dozens of other wares were available for purchase. Each seller shouted, adding to the cacophony of noise, that his was the best, cheapest, most desirable products of them all.

  Ian settled for a large loaf of bread, a half-pound of goat cheese, a handful of figs, and a ladle of warm milk from a vendor who had his food articles covered with a thin cloth to keep the flies off. He paid the stall keeper and sat upon a rock a short distance away to enjoy his repast.

  Two Germanic knights approached the food vendor’s stall and demanded meat and bread in discourteous tones. The vendor cut off two large chunks of roasted goat meat and handed the knights the meat and two large loaves of bread. They started to leave without paying for their food.

  The vendor called out, “Please, good sirs, you did not pay.”

  The shorter of the two knights replied something in German that Ian didn’t understand but disliked the sound of, then continued on their way. Ian laid the last of his bread and cheese on the stone and intercepted the knights. “Good sirs, apparently you forgot to pay the food vendor.”

  The shorter knight, his Aryan blond hair standing straight up from having recently removed his helmet, held his helmet in one hand and his food in the other. He replied in both German and French, “What business is this of yours? Misch hund!”

  Ian knew few Germanic words and expressions, but misch hund, he knew to mean mongrel dog. Agitated by the rudeness, Ian looked down at the knight and said, “It’s my duty to keep the peace in Jerusalem, as it should be yours. I ask you this once to pay the man his due.” Ian placed his hand on the hilt of his sword as an indication of his intention to insure they do the right thing.

  The larger of the two knights, having kept his silence to this point said, “Move on, stranger. We have no quarrel with you,” and started to brush Ian aside.

  Ian used the flat side of his sword to slap the large knight on the arm. Both knights pulled their swords from their scabbards at once and attacked Ian. He fended both their swords off with a double stroke, breaking the shorter knight’s sword in two. The tip flew through the air, then he smote the ear of the larger knight, nearly ripping it from the side of his head. The larger knight put his hand to his ear and his hand was immediately covered with blood.

  The smaller knight turned to his companion and said, “We knights don’t fight among ourselves to protect these vermin.”

  Ian, prepared to stave off another attack, said, “We protect all the citizens of Jerusalem. If you don’t feel this way, you shouldn’t remain here.” Ian stepped forward and the larger knight startled at Ian’s advance, turned to leave. Ian reached out his hand to the man’s ear and pressed it to the side of the man’s head. As he held the ear in place he had a vision of Jesus healing Malchus’ ear in the Garden of Gethsemane after Peter had cut it off with his sword. The bleeding stopped immediately, and the ear remained in place.

  The smaller knight’s eyes grew wide in amazement. “Are you some kind of warrior healer?”

  “Not that I am aware of, I just did what seemed right. I’m as surprised as you. Now pay the vendor and be on your way.”

  “Yes, sir. We will, sir.” The two men walked over to the vendor, retrieved coins from their money pouches, and paid the man.

  The vendor said, “No, no you have overpaid what I asked.”

  The two knights didn’t reply, but turned and left the market.

  The food vendor smiled at Ian and said, “A thousand thanks, my friend. I wouldn’t have believed that you, a Frankish knight, would defend me, a Jew.” The stall keeper reached under his table and fetched a small container, and handed it to Ian. “A gift for your kindness. My name is Nurya.”

  “Thank you, Nurya. I was only doing my duty.”

  “I insist.”

  “I’m sorry for your injury.” Ian wondered if Nurya was injured in the battle for Jerusalem.

  “I’ve been crippled since birth. I thank Elohim each day that I am alive and able to support my family. Thank you for your kindness this day, and please enjoy your treat.” Nurya bowed his head slightly.

  Ian said, “Have a good day, and thank you again,” turned, walked back to the rock where he left his lunch, and sat back down. He observed that the blood he’d gotten on his hands from reattaching the knight’s ear had dissipated, leaving no sign. Ian marveled at his strange encounter and continued his meal mystified by what had transpired.

  Jacques woke, discovered that Ian had already left for his personal day, skipped his prayers, brushed and fed the horses he had responsibility for, and set out on his great bay horse, Guerrier Brun, into the countryside. He packed a pouch of dried meat and bread for sustenance and a full sheep bladder water skin to prevent dehydration until he returned to meet with Achmed that evening.

  The fresh air and sunshine brought a smile to his lips. Every day held a sense of adventure for Jacques. Here he was, a knight in Jerusalem, the Head Guard for the Holy Sepulchre. His father would be proud. Jacques longed to return to Toulon and visit his family. His father would be four years older and Jacques needed to pay him a visit before his father passed away.

  Ian had introduced him to the voluptuous Desiree and he was smitten with her. Jacques felt his father would approve of her, a healer with a beautiful body and soul. Luc was not, and could not be, a prejudiced man like so many Jacques had encountered in Jerusalem and back home in France. Desiree would be busy at the hospital today, on his personal day, but he would get to see her again this evening when they met with the Egyptian and told him they didn’t want to be involved in his craziness.

  Jacques saw a peddler’s cart toppled in the ditch ahead, one wheel off in the dirt. Three men rode up to the cart and started to remove wooden benches and chairs, probably to lighten the load so the cart could be hauled out of the ditch. Jacques couldn’t be bothered with stopping and helping on his personal day. After all, he only had four personal days a month. Upon closer inspection, he saw the cart owner trying to chase off the three men, who apparently were lightening the load for their own gain and not to help the cart owner.

  Jacques hesitated. Did he want to be involved? The man was a Muslim, the thieves were light-skinned, neither Jew nor Muslim. He wrestled with his conscience. What would Desiree think? What would Ian say?’ I have to help. Applying light lashes on Guerrier Brun’s flanks, he advanced on the three thieves with raised sword. The thieves dropped their spoils to the ground and rode off as fast as their horses could carry them.

  The cart owner backed away when Jacques dismounted and strode up to the fearful man.

  “Do not be afraid, sir. I’m here to help.”

  The cart owner stared at Jacques and said, “Why would you help me, a Muslim, against white men?”

  “Because I want to. It looks like you’ve had bad luck and robbers on the same day and could use a helping hand.”

  “Yes, sir knight, the wheel fell off and my cart and I tumbled into the ditch.” The man wiped his brow, as the heat of the day and the aftermath of being robbed brought a line of sweat to his forehead.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, sire. I am now.”

  Jacques picked up the detached wheel and handed it to the man. “My name is Jacques, and yours?”

  “Yousef,” the man replied and took the wheel.

  “Press the wheel back onto the axle as I lift the cart.” Jacques lifted the side of the cart and Yousef pushed the wheel onto the axle. Jac
ques asked, “Do you have a linchpin to hold the wheel in place?”

  “No sire, but I can fashion one out of a piece of firewood I have in the cart.” The man selected a small length of hardwood and, removing a knife from beneath his tunic, began to whittle a pin.

  Jacques meanwhile pulled the cart back onto the path.

  Yousef said, “You’re not only kind, but a strong man besides.”

  Jacques, embarrassed by the complement, said, “I only want to help.” Jacques took the whittled pin from Yousef, inserted the pointed end into the hole in the axle, and tapped it the rest of the way in with his sword pommel. Now, let’s gather up the furniture.”

  Jacques picked up a table with only three legs and the leg which had fallen off when the cart tumbled. He reinserted the leg, and carried the restored table to the cart and placed it on top of the chairs Yousef had already reloaded.

  “There you are, Yousef. All loaded and ready to go. The repair should last until you reach Jerusalem.”

  “Yes, sire, and thank you again. May Allah smile upon you.” Yousef took his place between the arms of the peddler’s cart and continued on his way across the Kidron Valley to Jerusalem.

  A rare and pleasant feeling of charity flowed over Jacques. He did not always think first of doing for others and was glad he had stepped up and did the right thing this time.

  Desiree woke to a bright shining morning, smelled the spicy scent of jasmine in the air and felt the expectation of an unusual day. She wouldn’t be able to go out and enjoy it with Ian, who was having his personal day. She regretted having to work, but the staff expected her to be at the hospital today. She said her prayers, had a light breakfast of boiled egg, flat bread, and dates.

  A back molar on her lower jaw right side throbbed and the pain seemed to be getting worse. She had already lost one molar and feared she might lose a second. She would talk to Ian about a possible better pain killer or maybe have him remove the tooth, but she hated to lose a tooth. In the mean time she bit down on a whole clove, and as the clove oil permeated the cavity, her pain subsided.