The Prescience

by Lorilyn Roberts

  Soon I saw a sign. “Spiritist’s Readings for One Denarius.”

  Mari had given me a denarius if I needed it. I didn’t want a reading. I wanted to make Scylla a captive listener.

  I squatted down to eye level to talk to Shira. “Now, remember not to say anything, but in your heart, pray for me to say the right thing.”

  Shira nodded.

  My heart pumped with anticipation. I counted to three and breathed in deeply. When we approached her tent, I recognized my stepmother. She was dressed in black. Heavy makeup plastered her cheeks set off by red lipstick and dark mascara. She seemed a shadow of her former self, having sunk into the dark world of occultism.

  I noticed carved wooden figurines that appeared to be icons on display. Wretchedness pressed in on me as I drew near. I saw a fly land on the woman’s forehead. Strange she didn’t feel it crawling on her face.

  Since Scylla had left so many cosmetics at the house, we’d enjoyed a wide selection from which to choose. I had applied the makeup liberally, as if I were going to a costume party.

  I was at least three or four inches taller and almost four years older than when she knew me last. She couldn’t possibly know who I was until I handed her the bag.

  Judd had found a cane stored in the cave that he gave me. Dressed as a homeless old woman with a very young granddaughter would not be what Scylla would expect if she had suspicions about my identity.

  I called out to my stepmother. “Good afternoon.”

  Scylla twirled the tips of her hair with her smooth, pointed fingers. “Would you like a reading, my friend?”

  Looking into her evil eyes made me uncomfortable. I imagined snakes crawling on her body. I counted to three again. “No, I don’t need a reading. I need some advice. A friend encouraged me to see you.”

  I cleared my throat and looked away, trying to appear as pathetic as I knew how.

  “It’s the same price, one denarius,” Scylla replied.

  I had given Shira the money to make her feel important. “Sweetie, would you like to pay the lady for me?”

  Once Scylla received her fee, she motioned for us to come inside her private tent. As we entered, I noticed more images and carvings hewn out of wood and stone.

  She waved her hand. “Have a seat.”

  I found a wooden chair past its prime and set my cane against it. Shira preferred to sit in my lap. Scylla’s eyes bore into me. She couldn’t know who I was, but she would figure it out.

  Scylla’s eyes went to Shira. My princess shot her a smile, but didn’t say anything.

  “So, what is it you need advice about, my friend?”

  I gulped in air to calm my nerves and kept my eyes focused on the ground. “I’ve done some things I regret. It’s a long story, but the short version is I want to tell my stepmother I’m sorry, but I don’t think she’ll listen to me. How do you get someone to listen to you?”

  “I could do a reading and tell you what you should do,” Scylla replied.

  I shook my head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t do a reading. I just wanted someone to talk to.”

  “Can you tell me more—if I don’t do a reading, I need information about this person.”

  Part of me wanted a reading so I could prove she was a quack, taking people’s money and filling their ears with garbage. Once I handed her the bag with her clothes and personal items, she would be exposed for what she was, ripping off so-called clients, but that wasn’t why I came. To fall prey to my human side of wanting justice would be displeasing to God.

  Besides, I wanted to prove I had changed and my faith was genuine. She had already been victimized by the Romans and my father. No woman should be subjected to having to compete with another wife for affection.

  I spoke slowly to enunciate the Hebrew. “Many years ago, when I was young, I treated my stepmother unkindly and made her life miserable. I want to tell her I’m sorry, but she disdains me. I don’t think she would listen. What should I do?”

  I didn’t look at Scylla, but instead stared at the ground.

  “Well,” Scylla said thoughtfully, “it shouldn’t be that hard. Go to your stepmother and tell her what you’ve said to me. I’m sure she’ll accept your apology.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes. I don’t see why not.”

  I pointed to myself. “The reason why I want to apologize is the King changed my heart. When Jesus died on the cross, he died for my sins. Now I need to make things right with the people I’ve hurt.”

  When I said Jesus’ name, she flipped her hand, as if to say, “Oh, another one of those types.”

  I pressed in harder. “What do you think of the King?”

  Scylla squirmed. “I worship a different god, but this isn’t about me. This is about your stepmother.”

  “Well, if my stepmother worships a different god like you, do you think she can forgive me?”

  “If she wants to.”

  “Can I practice what I want to say with you? Would you mind?”

  Scylla fingered her dress and re-crossed her exposed legs, “Go ahead. Two minutes, and then your time is up.”

  I bit my lip. “Here’s what I want to say. I was a disrespectful young teen. Only when I met the King did I come to know that deep kind of love that touches your heart. I met the King and he changed my life. Now I want to ask you to forgive me.”

  I looked straight into her eyes. “Will she listen to me if I say that?”

  Slowly, Scylla nodded. “Yes. If you say it like that, I think she’ll listen to you.”

  “Very good,” I said. “I appreciate you listening to me.”

  She attempted a half smile.

  I stood. “Shira, it’s time to go, sweetie.”

  “You forgot the bag,” Shira said.

  I looked by my chair. “Oh, yes, the bag.” I picked up the bag and took it with me outside the tent before handing it to her. “Here, this is for you.”

  Before she could open it, I grabbed Shira’s hand and quickly rushed off, forgetting my cane. When I had put enough distance between us, I glanced back, but I didn’t see her.

  “Shale?”

  I turned and saw Daniel. When I was closer, Daniel answered my question. “Scylla opened the bag and ran back into the tent.”

  “She did?”

  Daniel picked up Shira and held her over his head. “And you did awesome, too.”

  I ran my finger along my cheek and oodles of makeup covered my fingertip. “Ugh—I’ve got to get this stuff off my face.”

  CHAPTER 46

  THE NEXT MORNING, Mari, Judd, Daniel, Shira, and I left for Caesarea. We took with us Baruch, Lowly, three horses, piles of clothes, jewelry, cooking paraphilia, and odds and ends that had no real value except for Mari’s sentimentalism.

  Daniel packed up Brutus’ scrolls hoping to convince my father to gift him the Book of Joel and the Book of Daniel. Dozens of scrolls filled my father’s extensive library, not only Hebrew writings, but many antiquities from Egypt, Assyria, Persia, and Babylon.

  Daniel also took a few letters my father wrote to various merchants, hoping to earn his favor. Perhaps Brutus might allow him to keep the two Old Testament books.

  I didn’t remember the Book of Joel. I couldn’t imagine why that one was so important, but it made sense he wanted the Book of Daniel—for his namesake.

  Only when we were on the road to Caesarea did I realize I would see my father again. The irony of me wanting to avoid my father and Daniel’s desperate attempt to find his didn’t escape me.

  Would my father be the same as before—distracted and preoccupied with his important work for the Romans? Despite my trepidations, I did look forward being reunited with my half- brother.

  I turned to more important matters. How could I convince my betrothed to get married in Caesarea? Then we could return to the twenty-first century. My longing had increased with each passing day to see my mother and friends although the friendships here also ran deep.

  Jesus had told us to
marry quickly. We could have a double wedding with Judd and Mari, and Shira could be the flower girl. A double wedding would be the perfect example of God’s extended family in heaven. He had called both Jews and Gentiles. The church was his bride, but the Jews were his people. Maybe showing Daniel the photograph of his great-grandmother would convince him.

  Of course, the one hundred forty-four thousand were virgins, according to the fourteenth chapter of the Book of Revelation. How could we get married unless we didn’t consummate the marriage? Then I remembered Joseph and Mary. They married but didn’t have sex until after the birth of Jesus.

  I knew Daniel would want to wait until he was sure the timing was right. I found it hard not to be jealous of Mari, and it upset me I was battling feelings I didn’t want.

  Once we were on the road, however, my conflicted feelings evaporated as the beautiful countryside wooed me. I had not seen this part of Israel before. The sun shone brightly, although rain clouds appeared in the distance. Hopefully they would stay there until we arrived in Caesarea.

  The more I saw of Israel in the first century, the more I wanted to stay. The narrow road on which we traveled passed rocky peaks that overlooked deep ravines rich in fertile fruit. Sparrows hopped from tree to tree in search of seeds and grasses. The lilies glistened in the sun between fleeting clouds. Several watchtowers lined the narrow road overlooking vineyards soon to be harvested.

  Daniel had been anxious to get through this part of the trip—making the point the King’s Highway was safer travel and a more fortified road. He had seemed worried about rain, but those clouds were miles away.

  Judd had concocted Lowly a wooden crate to be pulled behind Daniel’s horse. It was a rickety contraption, not very sturdy, but Judd assured us it would be safe for such a short trip.

  Lowly had voiced his concern to me when we tried to get him to enter it. “Sh-shale, I don’t know about this. It rocks back and forth. I think I might get sick.”

  There is nothing worse than a stubborn pig, but after much cajoling, Lowly finally entered the crate. I felt like it was my personal duty to make sure he arrived safely. I insisted that Daniel’s horse be the one to pull him.

  We passed some curious nomads and shepherds. I’m sure we didn’t look like the everyday travelers they were used to seeing.

  Daniel insisted we not stop to make sure we made it to Theophilus’ house before sundown. I packed snacks to eat along the way. Fortunately, Shira fell asleep in my arms, so I didn’t have to dig into our food supply.

  Suddenly raindrops began to fall. It didn’t take long for the dusty road to turn to mud and become almost impassable. The golf ball-size raindrops carved the road into a raging river. I had never seen so much rain in such a short amount of time.

  Shira woke up, cold and crying. I did my best to shield her by putting a blanket over both of us.

  “Hee-haw! This is not good,” Baruch murmured. “If this rain doesn’t stop, we’re in trouble.”

  The donkey’s brays were alarming. “What do you mean, Baruch?” For the first time, fear seized me. The rain kept falling, and sheets of deadly bullets blanketed the narrow road.

  Before Baruch could respond, Daniel spooked me when he came up alongside us. He looked like a ghost. I didn’t even see him dismount. Shira wailed, and I couldn’t hear over the torrent.

  “What did you say?”

  Daniel shook his head.

  Then I heard Judd shouting and Mari screaming. I couldn’t see up ahead, but something had given way around us. The road had collapsed. Between sheets of rain, I saw Lowly’s crate teetering inches from careening off the cliff. Anything that fell into the ravine below would perish. Somehow, in the chaos, I heard Lowly’s frantic squeals.

  I shouted, “Someone help Lowly!”

  Daniel ran back to the pig, but water was filling the container too quickly. Poor Lowly was trying to keep his nostrils above the rising tide. I feared within seconds, the water would pull him over. I cried out to God. “No!”

  Daniel held on to the crate, but now I feared for Daniel. One small puff of wind could knock him over. I glanced at Judd who didn’t seem eager to do anything. My anger soared. What a coward!

  Mari had dismounted her horse and found a rope. She threw it to Daniel who snatched it midair. He wrapped the cord around his body and Mari secured the rope to her horse. It wouldn’t help Lowly, but it would keep Daniel from falling into the ravine.

  Then Judd dismounted his horse and rushed over to help. It took a woman to show him up. Of course, I couldn’t do anything with Shira in my arms but pray.

  Suddenly, the ground shook. Then I heard hoof beats. Was someone coming to rescue us?

  I held my breath as time ticked too slowly. The rain had stopped, but flooding covered the roadway. I started crying as our rescuers got closer. When they came into view, I wasn’t sure I saw who I wanted to see—Romans.

  It didn’t take them long to assess we were in trouble. The lead rider held up his hand. Even though the rain had stopped, the water was up to Baruch’s knees and fetlocks. I could only see Lowly’s nose poking out through the wooden panels. Daniel clung precariously to the rope with one hand on the crate.

  Judd walked over to the soldier, but the Roman guard, who I perceived to be the captain, held up his spear and stopped him. “Don’t come any closer.”

  The captain waved for the others to rescue Daniel. “Forget the pig. Throw him over. I want to meet this Jewish fellow who is obsessed with swine.”

  How did they know Daniel was Jewish? Was it his beard?

  A loud guffaw bellowed from some of the Roman soldiers.

  I shouted, “Please, no, save my pig, too.”

  I caught their attention immediately, and their eyes went from me to Mari. They weren’t sure which woman had spoken.

  I added, because I couldn’t think of anything better to say. “It’s our only food for our young daughter. We’ll die of starvation if you don’t save our pig.”

  When I said this, they stopped laughing.

  The soldiers sloughed through the water, grabbed the rope, and pulled Daniel towards them. Once he was safe, he shouted, “Quick, we’ve got to rescue the pig.”

  The captain pointed his spear at my betrothed’s chest. “Who are you, Jew?”

  Daniel answered, “I’m Daniel Sperling, Son of Aviv.”

  Silence filled the air as the soldiers glanced at each other. Did they remember him? I shook uncontrollably, partly from fear and partly from cold. Shira cried even louder as she clung to me.

  My feeble attempt to save Lowly paid off. The captain motioned to his cohorts. “Get the crate on safer ground.”

  He stared at Daniel. “I know who you are, son of Aviv. Don’t do anything foolish.”

  Then he turned to Judd. “And who are you?”

  Judd gave his name and the captain shook his head. “Don’t know you,” and quickly lost interest in him.

  After several minutes, the Romans got Lowly securely on the road, and enough of the water had drained out that he didn’t look like a drowned pig. However, he was still quite a pathetic sight.

  The captain motioned for Judd to stand off to the side away from his horse, and his attention focused on Daniel. “Thief,” he said accusingly.

  I knew we were in trouble.

  CHAPTER 47

  THE CAPTAIN STRUTTED up to Daniel and grabbed him savagely by the shoulder. “Did you kidnap the girl?”

  Daniel shook his head and waved his dripping hand. “I’m helping Brutus Snyder, the Roman diplomat for international relations in Galilee, to move his animals and family to Caesarea. He sold his estate in Galilee. He’s now living at his Caesarea residence full time.”

  The Roman captain snickered. “Nice try, chariot racer. If the girl had not convinced her father to drop the kidnapping charges, I’d arrest you right now.”

  The captain giggled and spit in Daniel’s face. “A Jew who rescues pigs isn’t even faithful to his own people.”

&nbs
p; I stared, horrified, but Daniel did nothing, not even to wipe away the spittle. I held my breath.

  Mari spoke up for Daniel before I could think of what to say. “With upmost respect, what Daniel said is true.”

  “Prove it,” the Roman guard demanded. “Or I’m seizing all of you until I can check out his story. Mr. Sperling may be kidnapping you as he did the girl. I have no information that he has ever been involved with Mr. Snyder.”

  “Daniel is my brother and what I speak is the truth,” Mari said.

  I had never seen Mari be so bold, but the captain didn’t seem willing to take her word for it.

  The guard pointed his spear at me. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Shale Snyder, Brutus’ daughter.”

  The captain immediately dropped the spear and stared into my eyes. He approached me slowly, and I matched his stare without blinking. Shira grabbed me tightly as the guard neared. I could feel her fear rising, and I covered her face with the wet blanket.

  How dare this captain cause us such consternation—especially with me holding a small child, but if Roman soldiers could kill all the two-year-old babies of Bethlehem, I knew they’d have no problem hurting a three year old—or any of us.

  Then he stopped unexpectedly midstride. I continued to stare him back.

  The captain snarled. “Shale Snyder?”

  I nodded.

  The guard returned to his comrades, and they walked a few feet away to engage in a private discussion.

  I whispered to Daniel. “The documents, you brought some of my father’s letters, you said?”

  Daniel nodded. He edged over to his horse slowly so as not to alarm them and unpacked his miraculously dry bag.

  The Roman captain returned to us. “I need you to prove what you’re saying is true.”