The Lost Years of Jesus Christ

The Lost Years of Jesus Christ Page 1

by Derek Miller

The Lost Years of Jesus Christ

  By Derek Miller

  © 2014 by Derek Miller. All rights reserved.

  This book is historical fiction. Though many of the characters and events described within were real, nothing I wrote is meant to be taken as fact. In other words, don’t have a cow man!

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying form without the written permission of the author. Questions and comments are welcome. Reach me by email at [email protected].

  Love you Mommy!

  Interior Design: Derek Miller

  Publisher: Derek Miller

  Editors: Maribeth Graham and Joyce Salomon

  Creative Consultant: Tiffany Hadley

  1. Historical fiction 2. Jesus

  ISBN-13:978-0-9916100-0-6

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Introduction

  I hate introductions, so I’ll keep this short.

  There is very little information about Jesus Christ, herein referred to as Joshua of Nazareth, between his twelfth and thirtieth years. I have always had a burning curiosity about this unknown period of his life. How could someone with such an incredible destiny disappear for eighteen years? What was he doing? Who was he with? What events shaped him into the man who would eventually be recognized by over a billion people as the Messiah? These are the questions I had, and no one had the answers to satisfy me.

  The last story of Joshua as a child shows him preaching to the Pharisees and Sadducees at the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. That is where this book begins. I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. God bless!

  Prologue

  I’m almost there. I have to hurry before it’s too late.

  Delilah pressed forward. Her limbs ached and sweat poured from her brow, but still she continued to crawl. Hours of effort brought her within thirty meters of the city gate.

  “Please, help me!” Delilah called out.

  Someone must be standing watch. I just need to get a little closer.

  Delilah looked back from where she came. Darkness consumed the harsh landscape. There was no going back. She only found her way to the gates because of small torches that burned on both sides of the entrance. She crawled closer to the gate and cried out once again for help. As she moved forward, a jagged rock tore her robe and cut deep into her shin. It was but the latest of many injuries she sustained that night. The hard and rocky road was as unforgiving as it was long.

  The south gate of Jerusalem began to lift.

  Praise Adonai.

  It was Delilah’s first bit of luck since the accident, and perhaps the only chance to save her father. Two spear wielding guards approached her. One was tall and stout, the other short and skinny. Both were decorated in the traditional attire for a Roman soldier: Bronze helmet, sword, shield, hardened leather breastplate, and pleated leather skirt. Delilah attempted to stand as the two men approached, but the pain in her ankle forced her back to the ground.

  “What’s the meaning of this, girl?” The shorter guard said.

  “My father, you have to help him. He won’t last much longer.” Delilah’s words were rapid and irate.

  “You’re talking too fast dear lady. We’ll help you in any way that we can, but you must calm down first. What happened to your father?” The tall guard knelt and placed his hand on Delilah’s shoulder. His kindness soothed her. Her tense shoulders relaxed and she recounted the horrible events of the day.

  “My father is a trapper and skinner. We were on our way back to the city with a few fresh catches when a snake scared our donkey. The cart fell on its side, pinning my father beneath it. I couldn’t lift it off of him. I ran for help as fast as I could, but I was careless and fell. I fear my ankle is broken. He’s only a kilometer or two down the road but it took me hours to get here. Please, you must help my father.” Delilah clung to her savior, crying into his breastplate.

  “Of course we’ll help you. First let’s get you inside and have you’re ankle looked at. Then we’ll mount a search party, right Fabian?”

  “You’re wrong on both counts. No one is to be allowed in the city after dark, and we certainly aren’t going out into the black of night to search for some Hebrew.” Fabian sneered.

  “But sir, certainly this woman has nothing to do with the recent attacks. There is no danger in offering her refuge.”

  “Don’t but me, Valeus. I wouldn’t have even opened the gate if it hadn’t been a woman calling out for help.” Fabian then turned to Delilah and added. “The night watch gets so lonely, dear.”

  Delilah realized the horrible turn her situation had taken. She tried to stand, to run, but collapsed on her injured ankle as soon as she put her weight on it. She looked to Valeus, hoping he would protect her.

  “You can’t do that sir. It’s against the rules, the law, and the gods.”

  “You don’t tell me what the rules are. I’m your superior officer. You’re new around here, so you better learn how things work fast.” Fabian stood chest to pelvis with his gargantuan subordinate, poking Valeus in the chest as he spoke. “If you report me, who do you think they’re going to believe? Not a grunt like you, that’s for sure. I was even going to give you a turn when I was done, but now you can just go back to our post and stand guard while I have some fun.”

  Valeus stood firm for a moment, not speaking or moving. Delilah felt a twinge of hope. Fabian stood no chance against the monster of a man. Then, all hope vanished as Valeus turned and walked away.

  “I’m sorry.” He muttered as he went, not even looking back to say it to her face.

  Fabian grabbed Delilah, threw her on her back, and climbed on top of her. She struggled and cried out, but he was far stronger than his petite frame suggested. He pulled out a dagger and held it to her neck.

  “Now you’re going be a good girl and stay quiet. Not that anyone will hear you, I just prefer a woman to be silent.”

  Delilah stared at the knife and nodded, too frightened to speak. Just as Fabian began lifting his leather skirt Valeus called out.

  “Someone’s coming!”

  “Damn. I’ll be right back, dear.” Fabian stood and fixed his skirt, and then added with a laugh. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  A man in a hooded cloak approached the two guards. His face was covered, only the black hair of his beard visible.

  “You can’t leave the city.” Fabian said to the hooded man as he adjusted his skirt.

  “Why not? The gate’s up.” The hooded man said, stepping closer with each word.

  “We were just helping this girl out. She’s injured. Now get back inside unless you want to visit the cleric with her.” Fabian yelled. The two men were less than a meter apart.

  “You’re a bad liar.” The hooded man laughed. He produced a short sword from inside his cloak and slashed Fabian’s throat. Fabian fell to the ground with both hands
desperately trying to stop the river of blood that flowed from his neck. After a few seconds he became still. Valeus backed away and lifted his spear, though he could not hold it steady.

  “You think you can hurt an innocent woman and there will be no repercussions. Adonai will pass judgment on you for your actions soon, I have already passed mine.” The hooded man said as he stared down at Fabian’s body. He then looked up at Valeus. “Your turn.”

  “No, please. I wasn’t going to hurt her, I swear.” Valeus shook as the man approached, but managed to strike out with his spear. The hooded man evaded it and with one stroke of his sword he sliced the spear’s head clean off. Fabian dropped the useless piece of wood and backed away slowly.

  “I heard everything. In truth, you’re even worse than this pile of filth.” The hooded man nodded towards Fabian’s body. “You knew it was wrong, yet still you followed his orders. You were content to look on as he violated this woman. Now it’s time to pay for your inaction.”

  “I surrender.” Valeus said, unsheathing his sword and tossing it to the ground.

  The hooded man smiled and continued moving towards the defenseless centurion. Valeus turned to run, but he was too slow. The hooded man impaled him from behind, causing blood to shoot in all directions. Delilah recoiled when she felt the warm fluid hit her face. The hooded man noticed her reaction, and he looked towards her.

  “No, please don’t hurt me.” She covered her face like a child, hoping the monster would go away.

  “I have no intention of hurting you.” The hooded man walked away, grabbed a torch from its mount outside the gate, and returned to Delilah’s side. “Get on my back, and point the way. We have to go help your father.”

  1

  Annas sat hunched over in his high backed chair studying the parchments that were scattered across his desk. He stopped only now and then to take a sip of wine from his goblet. The news troubled him.

  Every day there is more dissension and less tithing. Not just in the outlying areas of Galilee and Judea, but in the Holy City as well. The common man is succumbing to the radical ideas of the Pharisees.

  Tension between the Sadducees and the Pharisees steadily mounted for decades. The Sadducees represented the elite members of Hebrew society, controlling most of the wealth and power not taken by the Romans. The Sadducees believed the Torah to be the absolute will of Adonai, and that it could not be changed or contested. They didn’t believe in life after death or the existence of supernatural creatures such as angels and demons. The Pharisees were formed to represent the common man and bring about changes that they deemed both necessary and willed by Adonai through the voices of prophets. Though they also worshipped Adonai, their core beliefs varied from that of their Sadducee brethren. Pharisees fought for the people’s right to sacrifice in their own homes and synagogues, spend their money helping their own families and those in need instead of tithing to make the wealthy wealthier, and believed in life after death. Annas could not deny the allure created by their assertions, and it became increasingly difficult to combat them with words alone. After all, a man would have to be crazy not to want what the Pharisees promised.

  What is easy it not always right. The Word of Adonai is not alive and evolving, spoken through “prophets” of the day, as they propose. Adonai does not make mistakes that need to be corrected. His law is absolute and unchanging. However appealing their beliefs might sound, such blasphemy is unacceptable and will not be tolerated.

  “Moloch has called upon you, Sir. Shall I let him in?” Annas looked up from his papers. One of the servants had entered while he was lost in thought.

  “Yes.” Annas said. “Any distraction would be welcome right now, even him.”

  The servant vanished as quickly as he had come. Moloch, a red bearded man in golden robes, entered not long after.

  “Welcome, brother.” Annas said. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  Moloch and Annas were not just brothers, they were also twins. It was nearly impossible to tell them apart by sight alone, though that was where the similarity ended. Annas came into the world a few minutes sooner than Moloch, and from that moment an invisible rift formed between them. As they aged the rift grew wider. Moloch resented Annas for being the first born, receiving most of their father’s attention, and claiming the greatest position any descendant of Aaron could hope to attain. Though resentment was not an uncommon feeling between brothers, Moloch took it to heart due to the incredibly small time difference between their births. Annas tried his best to be civil, but nothing seemed to help.

  “I’m here about business, not pleasure. More bad news?” Moloch asked, staring at the parchments that lay unfurled on the desk. Annas poured a drink for Moloch and handed it to him before returning to his chair to look over the words once again.

  “More every day. If this were a war, I’d fear we were on the losing side. Sit down and drink. Your pacing stresses me.”

  Moloch stopped in his tracks, stared at Annas, and chuckled.

  “You worry too much. The old ways will persevere as they always have, though it may require action. Adonai aids those who do his bidding.” Moloch didn’t sit, but he ceased his pacing.

  Annas stood and walked over to a large urn on the floor beside his chair. He picked it up and placed it on his desk. The room was dimly lit, but it was easy to make out the epic battle being depicted on it. Young David slaying Goliath with a single stone. It was an amazing moment, frozen in time, meant to inspire and inform. It was also, unfortunately, destined for the pyre.

  “I wonder. If we take these actions you propose, will we be David, slaying the evil giant and bringing peace to the land, or Goliath, a monster wreaking havoc on the weak and waiting to be put in his place?” Annas said.

  Moloch joined Annas next to the urn. He stared at it while he drained his goblet, and then looked into his brother’s eyes.

  “What is the meaning of this blasphemy?” Moloch looked from the urn to Annas.

  “A Greek artist had this on display in the marketplace. He called me over to look at it, thinking I would be interested in buying it. The man heard the story of David and thought it would make for an intriguing work of art. It’s too bad he didn’t know more about our customs.”

  It was forbidden for Hebrews to create, worship, or even look upon depictions of the human form. To do so was disrespectful to Adonai, the one true God.

  “That doesn’t explain why you have it. Have you gone mad?” Moloch shook his fist above his head.

  “When I explained our customs, the merchant asked me to dispose of it in an appropriate manner. He makes his living off simple pottery and feared retribution for having it on display. In a city like Jerusalem, he can’t afford to make an enemy of our people.”

  With the exception of the Roman military stationed in the city, Jerusalem’s inhabitants were almost exclusively Hebrew.

  “I told him I would burn it, and I will, but it does evoke concerns in me.”

  Moloch looked upon the scene for a few moments.

  “David was just a boy in this depiction. When it came time for the boy to become a man, for David to take the reins of leadership, he did what he had to do. Do you think every decision was easy? Leaders must sometimes do unsavory things for the good of their people. We have no King to lead us now, but we have you, High Priest.”

  Annas grew pale. His position was the most prestigious and enviable among the descendants of Aaron, yet he would have preferred to be just another priest. Each road set before him had its own perils and pitfalls, with no telling what horrible events might be triggered by his command.

  “I know what you want, but as long as I am High Priest there will be no war among our people. Misguided as the Pharisees are, they are still our brethren.” Annas said, placing a hand on Moloch’s shoulder. Moloch pushed it away.

  “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t waste my time trying to convince you again. I am here for a different reason. Do you recall the last Passove
r? A boy journeyed with his family to offer sacrifice at the temple. Afterwards he stayed behind with the priests and peasants, unknown to his parents. The priests spent hours talking to the boy and listening to his words before he was retrieved by his father. He had charisma, charm, and fervor that intrigued and inspired the common man and aristocrat alike.”

  “I recall the boy. He created quite a stir that lasted weeks after his departure. What of him?” Annas said.

  “I would like someone to travel to his home and bring him to me. I have a peaceful plan to revitalize the Sadducee’s grip on the populace and he is an integral part of it.”

  “You’re schemes get more desperate by the day, though I must admit I prefer this to many of your other ideas.” In recent years, Moloch had called for the extermination of the Pharisees, the Romans, and almost every other group of people whose interests clashed with those of the Sadducees. Suddenly, an idea came to Annas. “I see no issue with bringing the boy here to learn and preach, but I will not send any of my men to do the deed. If you want the boy, you must get him yourself.”

  “Am I some errand boy?” Moloch brought his fist down on the table hard, but composed himself with haste. “Anyone could do such a job. I have far more important matters here that require my attention.”

  Fetching a child was not suitable work for a priest, but Annas needed his brother out of the Holy City. He was a poisonous influence. Nothing peaceful could be accomplished with him present. He had a powerful following in the Great Sanhedrin and his presence could not be ignored. There was little hope that anyone else could get him to go for the boy, but Annas knew his brother’s weaknesses.

  “As I recall, the boy’s father was not very happy when he returned to the temple for his son. He may not be open to the idea of his son being taken away from him. You were always skilled at getting the things you wanted from our father, why not someone else’s? I’ll make the decision simple for you brother. Either you go yourself, or no one goes.”

  A devilish grin appeared between Moloch’s flaming red mustache and beard.

  “Family is easy, but strangers can be unpredictable. Besides, I had to learn how to manipulate father. It was the only way to pry him away from his golden boy for five minutes.” Moloch grew silent for a few moments. “I suppose I could tell him we found his son so engaging we wish to make him a rabbi or some nonsense. He won’t be aware what an uncommon occurrence such a thing is. I still say any servant could take on this task. Write a letter, mark it with your personal seal, and wait for the boy to show up. However, if I go we know it will be a successful mission. Perhaps I can even do some good in that dreadful town of Nazareth while I’m there.”

  “Excellent!” Annas paused. “Did you say Nazareth? How interesting. In that case, I may have another mission that you will find more to your liking.”

  Nazareth, a city in northern Galilee, was a center of trade based around the large limestone deposits in the hills surrounding the city. Like most trading centers, it attracted all types of people, and became known only for its most unsavory inhabitants.

  “Another mission?” Moloch asked. “Sure, why not load me up like a mule while you have the chance.”

  “There are one hundred and twenty kilometers between here and Nazareth, with many small and large cities scattered along the way. I wish for you to visit each town and discern what true presence the Pharisees have among the people. Stay nowhere for longer than a day, and do not let anyone know you are a priest.” Annas searched through the parchments on his desk as he spoke, searching for one he had read earlier that morning. “Once you arrive in Nazareth, seek out this man.” Annas handed the parchment to Moloch. “It is from a rabbi named Nathaniel who lives in Nazareth. He speaks of the terrible sin present within the city walls. Those who do not succumb to the lure of debauchery and violence are looking to the Pharisees and their heretical ideals with hopeful eyes. They think the Pharisees are their salvation. We can’t allow that to continue. Learn what you can from this man and the people. Knowledge is the key to our survival.”

  This got Moloch’s attention. Though Annas feared the actions his brother would take, it was an unavoidable risk. He needed to know as much as possible about the Pharisees plans, and better he cause disruptions in small outlying towns than where in Jerusalem it would be noticed by the Romans.

  “What shall I do about the Pharisees I encounter along the way?” Moloch wanted explicit permission, but he wouldn’t get it.

  “You may speak out against them, tell the people the truth, and try to bring those who will listen back from their mistakes. Do not engage in any physical altercations. I want no blood spilled. Are we clear?”

  Even as he spoke the words he knew they were in vain. Moloch could not be leashed any more than Annas could be forced to order the murder of his people. Everyone has their own burdens to bear in life, and Annas carried more than most. He was willing to accept a few casualties for the greater good if there was no other alternative.

  “As the High Priest commands, so shall it be.” The grin on Moloch’s face said the exact opposite of his words.

  2

  Joshua walked down the deserted limestone road. The cool morning air washed over his smiling face as he neared his friend’s home. He had toiled through the night with his father to make sure that the gift would be finished in time, and he was excited to deliver it. The satchel draped over his shoulder held more than many nights of laboring, it also held hope. The sun was just breaking the horizon when he reached his destination. The square stone house, indistinguishable from those around it, was home to a local stonemason and his family. Joshua stood at the doorway and called inside, getting the attention of the man of the house. While most boys would be up starting their workday at dawn, Joshua knew Peter would still be sleeping, unaware of the surprise in store for him.

  “Joshua, to what do we owe this morning visit? I could have sworn I paid your father in full last month.” Jacob gave a hearty laugh.

  “You did. I’ve come to give Peter a gift. I made him something.”

  “That’s very kind of you. Come in out of the cold.” Jacob turned to his wife as they entered the room. “Veronica, our son has a visitor. Fetch him, my dear.”

  “Yes, Jacob.” Veronica hurried from the room.

  “It may take a moment. He’s a bit slow in the morning, you know. How’s your father?”

  “Very well, sir. I expect he’s at the market by now trying to sell some of our wares or hopefully taking new orders. Business has been slow of late. Most people only buy bowls and spoons.”

  “Slow for all, not just him. What I wouldn’t give to go back and spend my youth as an apprentice blacksmith. Arms and armor seem to be the only indispensable goods in these times of turmoil.”

  Veronica reentered the room followed by Peter. He was small for his age, not surprising with taxes and food prices so high. It isn’t easy for a man to provide for his family, and a boy who can’t work isn’t worth wasting much food on.

  “Come Veronica, we have much work to do. Let the children talk.” Jacob said as he left the room.

  “Good morning, Peter.” Joshua said.

  “Morning, Joshua. What are you doing here?” Peter asked.

  “I’ve got something for you. I think you’re going to like it.” Joshua said, placing the satchel on the table in front of Peter.

  Peter opened up the satchel and peered inside. He looked puzzled as he pulled out a pair of sandals and held them in his hands.

  “Thank you, but you know I don’t wear shoes. They only make it harder for me to walk.”

  Peter was born with a rare deformity. His right leg was much shorter than his left, resulting in a severe limp. It may seem like a small burden, and it is compared to some, but for a boy there is nothing worse than being unable to run, jump, and play like everybody else. The other boys never let him forget for a moment that he was different, and it was unlikely that he would ever be considered an acceptable. Joshua always trie
d his best to cheer up his friend, but some problems require action, not words.

  “These are special sandals. I made them myself. Try them on.”

  Peter looked doubtful, but he did as he was asked.

  “One is bigger than the other.” Peter said.

  Joshua smiled. “Remember when we measured your legs a few weeks ago? It wasn’t just because I was curious about how much shorter your bad leg is.”

  A wonderful feeling welled up inside Joshua as Peter stood up in his new shoes and began to walk around the house without the slightest limp. The idea had come to him when they were in the workshop. Joshua was showing off some of his father’s newest creations when Peter walked along a piece of discarded wood that lay on the floor. It wasn’t the right thickness, but his limp became much less noticeable as he walked on it. From there it was just a matter of figuring out the difference in his legs with absolute precision.

  “This is incredible.” Peter called out. “Mother, father, come quick!”

  Veronica rushed to her son’s aid, an instinctual response to his cries. This time it was not his distress she came to witness, but the joy she had always longed to see in her son.

  “Look mother, I can walk.” Peter said, walking outside into the street. “I can run.”

  It didn’t look much like running, but it was the closest Peter had ever come. His arms and legs flailed wildly as he zigged and zagged down the road. He would get to do all the things he had missed in life, along with all the things he might have missed that were still to come. Jacob joined Joshua and Veronica in the doorway and watched Peter run.

  “It’s a miracle.” Jacob said. “Now he can join in the family business. He can work, marry, and have a family someday. How can we ever thank you, Joshua?”

  “No need for thanks. I did it because I wanted to. Seeing him run like that is more than thanks enough. I wish I could stay longer, but my father is expecting me.”

  Joshua began running towards the central bazaar of Nazareth. He enjoyed running in the early morning through the empty streets, but it also filled him with sadness. Every day he saw the same people doing the same things at the same time. He passed the baker, who was loading his cart with the same bread he sold every day. Next, he saw a father and son with tools in hand ready to start another day of limestone mining. Finally, as Joshua was entering the market, he came across an old beggar woman named Esther. She always wandered around the market asking for food and copper. No one ever paid much attention to her, except Joshua.

  “Good morning, Esther.” Joshua said.

  “Good morning, Joshua. You look even happier than usual today.”

  “I am. I’ve got something for you.” Joshua pulled a small hunk of cheese out of his robe and handed it to Esther. “I wasn’t very hungry this morning, so I thought you might like my breakfast.”

  “You’re such a good boy Joshua, thank you.” Esther ate the cheese in one bite.

  Joshua walked a few steps and then turned back to Esther. There was something he needed to ask, something that never crossed his mind before.

  “Why do you live like this?”

  “I have no other choice. My husband died many years ago, and none of my children survived to adulthood. Adonai kept me alive for some reason, so I continue on until he sees fit to let me pass.”

  Joshua thought back on everything he had just seen as he continued on to meet his father.

  Is that what my life is destined to be? Work, get married, have children, make them work, and eventually long for death? I want more.

  When Joshua arrived, his father was just about finished arranging their displays.

  “You made it back quick, son. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour.” Joseph said through labored breaths. Sweat dripped from his forehead. “How did it go?”

  Many men would not have supported their son’s desire to impart such a charitable gift. It took time away from the work that they were paid to do and used valuable materials, yet from the moment Joshua mentioned the idea Joseph uttered no word against it, and even assisted Joshua in creating the unique shoe. His mother’s reaction was much different. Miriam made her concerns known, claiming it was hard enough getting by without wasting time on something that might not work, but that was to be expected. A mother’s instinct is to be concerned about her own child’s well-being before that of anyone else.

  “It was perfect. He could really walk, run even. It’s amazing to know that I did that for him.”

  Joseph stopped working and sat down. He let out a sigh and beckoned Joshua to come to him.

  “Do not let pride consume you, Joshua. We are all instruments of Adonai; here to do His bidding. You did a wonderful thing, but never forget why you did it. Not to boast of it, prosper from it, or relish in it, but to do good for someone else because it was in your power to do so. It is what every man should do.”

  “Yes, father.”

  Joseph was an anomaly, an honest man surrounded by thieves. It didn’t take long for Joshua to realize how lucky he was to be the son of such a man. Slow to anger, quick to forgive, eager to help, these were the qualities that defined Joseph. Even when business was slow and they barely had enough copper to afford a decent meal, his outlook was positive. While some men grew bitter with their stagnant positions in life, taking out their hostilities on their wives and children, Joseph never raised his hand or voice towards anyone.

  Business was slow, even by recent standards. On most work days Joshua and Joseph traveled to Sepphoris, a Roman populated city ten kilometers from Nazareth, to do work. There was always work to be found for carpenters and masons there, but once a week Joseph brought his wares to market. They sold mainly small necessities on these days, occasionally receiving an order for something larger. By midday there had been only one man browsing and he had not purchased anything. It was clear there was no need for both of them to stay. Joseph told Joshua to go home and help his mother.

  “Are you sure?” Joshua asked. He had no desire to stay, but something inside told him his father was not well. Joseph’s pale skin, excessive sweating, and labored breathing frightened Joshua. “Maybe you should go and I can close up?”

  Joshua had never been allowed to work alone, and the glare his father gave him said that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. He knew it had nothing to do with his ability to do the job and everything to do with the apparent vulnerability of a child alone in the streets, but it still didn’t make him feel good.

  “Go home, son. There’s nothing more you can do here. Besides, tomorrow is a big day. Your mother might need some help, especially with Elizabeth arriving today.”

  Joshua had forgotten that his cousins were coming. The prospect filled him with dread. Family is important, but they can also be unbearable at times. Elizabeth and her son Yohan possessed a level of ignorance that bordered on absurdity. Every time they came together arguments and tension were unavoidable. Still, it would be rude of Joshua not to be there to welcome them. They were making the trip just for him, and if he had learned anything from his father it was manners. Joshua made his way home, mind shifting between the uncomfortable familial gathering to come and what it meant for him to no longer be a child in the eyes of Adonai.

  Tomorrow I’ll be a man, and everything will change.

  3

  The pain in Joseph’s side was intense. He felt as if someone had their foot pressed against the right side of his abdomen. It started late the previous evening, and grew worse as time went on. Joseph mustered every ounce of his strength to behave normal. Between the agony inside of him and the upcoming conversation with his son, there was little time to think about anything else.

  It was difficult for Joseph not to speak to Joshua about what was on his mind. He wanted nothing more than to explain everything to his son, but it was not the right time. Joshua would know all soon enough, but not until he came of age. Joseph believed his son was ready, but tradition could not be ignored.

  What if I d
on’t get the chance to speak to him? He could still find out the truth from the book, though he might not believe it. I have to seek help for this ailment.

  Joseph had not sent his son away just because things were slow. Seeking help was his only option, but he didn’t want his family to worry. Joseph packed up his goods and ventured to his friend Nathaniel, a rabbi and cleric who practiced out of a local synagogue. Nathaniel was busy looking over some parchments when Joseph arrived. As soon as he noticed Joseph he pushed the papers aside and rushed to welcome him.

  “Joseph, it’s so good to see you. You’re not one to take a break on a workday. What brings you here?” Nathaniel asked.

  His tone was as jovial as ever. Nathaniel welcomed all true believers with a warm smile and kind eyes, but Joseph always received a special greeting. The rabbi was a righteous and devout man who praised the good and condemned the wicked. He had no room in his heart or in his synagogue for those who followed the Pharisees teachings. More people converted every day, but Nathaniel remained steadfast in his belief of the Sadducees and tradition.

  “I wish it were under better circumstances, my friend.” Joseph said. He explained his symptoms: fever, vomiting, and excruciating abdominal pain.

  Nathaniel placed his palm against Joseph’s hot, wet forehead. Then he pressed his hand into Joseph’s side, causing him to grimace. The rabbi who was always so bright eyed and amiable turned pale.

  “I have come across this ailment several times over the years, and heard about it far more. There is no consensus on its causes, but there is only one course of treatment: rest and pray.”

  “What are you saying?” Joseph knew his friend was being less than honest with him. The hair on the back of Joseph’s neck stood up, and a chill went down his spine. Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer.

  “I have never seen anyone survive this. While time varies from case to case, the end result is always the same. You haven’t much time to live.” Nathaniel kept his head down as he spoke, unable to look Joseph in the eyes as he gave him the news.

  “Is there anything you can do?” Joseph’s voice was barely a whisper as he begged his friend for help. “There must be an herbal remedy to alleviate the symptoms, if only to prolong my life for a few months, or even just weeks. I can’t die yet.” Joseph pleaded, not for his own sake, but for his son’s. Joshua would need his guidance more than ever in the coming days. He knew all too well that learning about the family legacy could be a traumatizing experience.

  “I’m sorry, Joseph. I have heard of rare, miraculous recoveries, but there is no way to know if the stories are true. Chances are you have two maybe three days at most, though it could happen anytime between now and then. I can give you some herbs that will lessen the pain, but that is all. Eventually you will feel a sudden sense of relief and the pain will vanish for a short time. That is how you will know your time is up.” Nathaniel began crushing and mixing the herbs together before Joseph could respond.

  “If it will not extend my life I won’t take it. I’ll not have a coward’s death. The pain I am meant to feel, I will feel. Thank you for the truth.” Joseph paused. “It would please me if you would preside over my funeral. Do not tell anyone of my affliction, Miriam most of all. After all, I do believe in miracles.”

  “You have my word.” Nathaniel poured the prepared herbs into a pouch and handed it to Joseph before he left. “Just in case you change your mind, or wish for some relief while you say your goodbyes.”

  Joseph accepted the herbs, though he still had no intention of taking them.

  The short walk home weakened Joseph. He walked a minimum of several kilometers every day of his life and worked until exhaustion each night before retiring. He was not one to tire easily, yet after no more than a kilometer he felt ready to collapse.

  Perhaps this is a test from Adonai. Many men have suffered far worse than this and survived. I must prove myself by not succumbing to fear and pain.

  Knowledge of impending death can bring clarity to a man that is otherwise unobtainable. He knew he would not be able to tell his son everything about their family history, but the book could do that. All he wanted was to be able to pass on their legacy as his father had to him.

  Please just let me last one more day.

  Miriam rushed to the door to greet her husband when he arrived home. Joshua, Elizabeth, and Yohan were all sitting around the table. There was a large plate of fruit between them that Joshua was picking at and that Elizabeth and Yohan were devouring by the handful. Joseph did his best to hide his pain. He stood up straight, put on a smile, and welcomed his wife’s family to their home before excusing himself.

  “But you just arrived, Joseph. Dinner will be served shortly.” Miriam said.

  “I just need to change for dinner. We have company. I’ll get out of my work clothes, put on my good robes, and be right back.” Joseph said before leaving the company of his family.

  There was nothing he wanted more than to take his son aside and explain everything to him right then, but he trusted in tradition and in Adonai. If he was meant to tell Joshua, he would survive to see another day.

  He went to the room he shared with his wife. In the corner was a large cabinet. It was the first thing he built when they arrived in Nazareth years before. The common appearance did not do its contents justice, but inconspicuous is better than obvious in a city populated primarily by scoundrels and thieves. He removed the false bottom from the cabinet, revealing a hidden chest. Straining, he lifted the chest out and onto the floor.

  Joseph became weaker with every passing moment. The pressure in his stomach was worse than anything he had ever felt in his life, but he persevered. Normal in most respects, there was one thing which separated this chest from other containers. The lock did not take a traditional key, but something much different. Joseph removed a pendant from his neck, a Star of David not unlike those many of his fellow servants of Adonai donned. He placed the star in the lock and twisted. The lid sprung open.

  He took out the large, weathered tome that he had received from his father on the day of his Bar Mitzvah and looked at it for a moment. That and the chest itself were the only things that belonged to him. The rest of the items in the chest belonged to his son alone, given to him when he was a baby. They had been kept from him for thirteen years, but it would soon be time for him to accept them. Joseph placed the book back inside the box along with his own personal diary. Miriam was the only other person who knew of its existence, though even she did not know the truth about its contents. She would make sure that Joshua took possession of it if anything happened to him in the night.

  “Your burden will be great, my son, but the world needs you.” Joseph muttered before passing out on his bed of hay.

  4

  The one hundred and twenty kilometer journey from Jerusalem to Nazareth, one that should take no more than two days even on the slowest horse, took thirty days for Moloch and his companions due to their secondary mission. Daniel and Samuel, brothers and devout guards, were eager to accompany Moloch on his quest.

  “Thank you for joining me on this journey Daniel, I know what a hardship it must be to spend so much time away from your wife and children.” Moloch said.

  “Trust me. It’s much more of a hardship for him to be with them. That wife of his is a nightmare, and that’s being kind.” Samuel laughed.

  To speak ill of another man’s wife was one of the greatest insults any man could give, yet Daniel laughed even louder than Samuel.

  “Surely you must miss your boys though?” Moloch asked.

  “I do, but I worry they have taken after my wife. They fight with each other constantly. They are selfish and spoiled and refuse to obey my commands. When this mission is complete I plan to take some time to teach them how to behave.”

  “Not everyone can get along as well as you and I, brother.” Samuel said, wrapping one arm around Daniel’s neck and punching him in the arm.

  Their relationshi
p was far different from the one Moloch and Annas had. They supported each other as both brothers and friends, laughing and talking for hours at a time. The behavior seemed so strange and foreign to Moloch, but he tolerated it due to their fighting prowess and loyalty to Adonai. No matter what he asked of Daniel and Samuel, they did it without hesitation.

  The three men stopped at each city along their route to examine the influence of the Pharisees amongst the townspeople. What they learned was disturbing. There were no Pharisees present, or at least visible, in any of the towns they visited, but the way the people spoke one might think they had just left the city.

  “You know they’re right.” Moloch overheard one merchant saying to another in the small town of Nain. “Why should we have to travel all the way to the Temple to offer sacrifices to Adonai? He sees everything so he would know if we sacrificed in our own homes and synagogues.”

  The people were spellbound by the prospect that their lives could be made easier and more pleasurable. Moloch remained calm and patient through it all, though the fire burning inside of him was rekindled with every word of heresy that he heard.

  The rolling hills of Nazareth were a welcome and beautiful sight to behold after such a draining excursion. The city sat nestled in a valley surrounded by limestone cliffs that rose on all sides like an eggshell protecting it from harm.

  Their first task was to find a room at an inn for the duration of their stay in Nazareth. Though Hebrew custom dictated that the people open their homes to travelers, Moloch preferred to stay somewhere that offered more privacy. They found a room at the White Horse Inn near the central marketplace. It was owned by a Roman with an unpleasant attitude and an unwashed face.

  “How long will you be staying?” The innkeeper asked.

  “Hopefully no more than a few days.” Moloch said as he gazed at the disgusting surroundings. Half eaten plates of food littered the floor at the innkeeper’s feet and the limestone walls were full of cracks and holes.

  “If you don’t like it you can get out now. You won’t find a better inn in the entire city.”

  “I’m sure that is true. I meant no disrespect. I simply meant that I have business in the city that I hope I can see to quickly.” Moloch said.

  He did mean disrespect, but the innkeeper might be useful. Moloch had no idea where Joshua might be. Nazareth boasted a population of over fifty thousand people. Finding one boy amongst so many seemed an impossible task at first thought, but Joshua was not an ordinary boy.

  A boy who can cause such a stir in the Holy City must be well known in his hometown. Possibly even to Roman scum like this.

  “Might I ask you a question, sir?” Moloch asked.

  “You just did.” The innkeeper laughed.

  “Too true.” Moloch gave a halfhearted chuckle. “I’m looking for a young boy named Joshua. He is the son of a carpenter named Joseph and lives somewhere in the city. Do you know of him?”

  “Can’t say I do. Don’t have much use for carpenters, but there’s always a few in the marketplace. If you’re not picky about what boy you get I might be able to help you out. I know a few that will do anything you want, for a price.”

  Moloch was disgusted by the insinuation. He wanted nothing more than to end the innkeeper’s miserable existence that very moment. Samuel placed a hand on Moloch’s shoulder before he could act.

  “Remember the mission.” Samuel whispered.

  Moloch calmed himself with a few deep breaths and walked to his room without another word to the perverted innkeeper.

  The day quickly waned. While his men settled into their temporary home, Moloch took the time to write a note for Joshua. He planned to speak to Joseph first out of respect, but did not believe for a moment that the man would allow his son to join them.

  Moloch was eager to find Joshua, but decided to leave that task for the following morning. Instead he set off towards the synagogue of Nathaniel, the rabbi who had written to the High Priest.

  “May I help you?” The rabbi said as Moloch entered the synagogue.

  “Are you Nathaniel?” Moloch asked.

  “I am.”

  “My name is Moloch, a priest from Jerusalem.”

  “I knew my letters would not go unanswered. The people of this city grow more rebellious with each passing day. The Pharisees poisonous influence has taken hold of them. To think, the High Priest sent you here just because of my letter.”

  “We will offer you any help that we can, but I can’t lie to you. I have another, far more important goal in this city. I need to find a boy.” Moloch said.

  “A single boy is more important than saving the people of this city? What boy is this?” Nathaniel asked.

  Visiting Nathaniel proved to the best decision Moloch could have made. He learned the rabbi was a personal friend of Joshua’s father. Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably when Moloch asked for directions to Joseph’s home, but he didn’t deny the priest his wish.

  “Joseph was here no more than half an hour ago. I’m sure he is home by now.” Nathaniel said, and then proceeded to tell Moloch how to get there. “I could just take you there if you like.” Nathaniel added when he was done.

  “Thank you for the offer, but this is a private matter.” Moloch said. Nathaniel did not question him further.

  Within an hour of their arrival in Nazareth, Moloch and his companions were at the doorway of a quaint little home on the edge of the city ready to complete their primary mission.

  5

  “How rude.” Elizabeth said. “We travel all the way here for his son’s Bar Mitzvah and he can’t say more than two words to us. I always said you married a classless brute, Miriam. By the way, when is dinner? I’m famished from our journey.”

  Miriam rolled her eyes at her aunt.

  I’m sure crushing that poor horse under your girth for two days was exhausting.

  Elizabeth was never one to hold her tongue. Her words were as unforgiving as her waistline after consuming an entire lamb, which she did several times a year. Of the seven deadly sins, each of which Elizabeth committed on a regular basis, gluttony and pride were her most frequent offenses.

  “I have to eat to maintain my figure. I’m a sturdy woman, you know. It’s how Adonai made me.” She would say if someone accused her of excess.

  “It’s such a shame Zechariah couldn’t make it. I was looking forward to seeing him.” Miriam said, ignoring her aunt’s harsh comments. She wasn’t lying. Zechariah was the only one of them she could stand to be around for any length of time.

  He must have stayed behind to enjoy the peace of solitude.

  “Father can’t just take days off from work anytime he wants. He’s an important businessman. If he didn’t work we could end up poor like you.” Yohan said, receiving a hard slap on the back of his head from his mother as he finished.

  “It’s impolite to boast about your wealth son, even if it is true.” Elizabeth had a way of correcting her son that was closer to agreement than admonishment.

  Miriam normally would have remarked on their comments, but Joseph’s sudden and brief appearance diverted her attention. He didn’t look well, and she wondered what might be wrong with him.

  “Joshua, would you check on your father?” Miriam asked.

  “Yes, mother.” Joshua said.

  “Yohan has been a man for almost six months now. Should I be preparing for his nuptials in the near future?” Miriam changed the subject while Joshua checked on Joseph. She knew the idea of Yohan taking a wife wasn’t something Elizabeth wanted to discuss or even contemplate.

  “When we find a girl worthy of my darling boy you will know. He’s not going to settle for some commoner off the street.” Elizabeth ruffled her son’s hair. Yohan glared at his mother and swatted her hand away. Miriam had obviously touched on a sore subject. “I’m sure you and Joseph will accept the first offer you get, but I’ll not trade my boy for a fat lamb only to get a sow of a daughter in law in the exchange.”

  “W
e haven’t discussed it yet. No need to rush things.” Miriam said.

  “For once we agree.” Elizabeth finished her wine and held up her goblet to say she wanted more. Miriam obliged, though she began to worry how much her aunt’s visit would cost them in meat and wine.

  Joshua returned a few seconds after their conversation ended with surprising news.

  “He’s asleep.”

  Everyone snapped their heads to look at Joshua.

  “Sleeping this early? How lazy can a man be? It isn’t even dark out.” Elizabeth craned her neck to look out the window. The sun still shined down on the white limestone streets of Nazareth.

  “I’m sure he’s just resting after a long, hard day of work.” Miriam said, though her thoughts betrayed her words. Joseph spent every day working from dawn to dusk in the market or Sepphoris and then far into the night in his workshop. If he was sleeping when the sun was still up, then something must be wrong.

  It’s nothing. A good night’s rest and he will be as good as new.

  A voice coming from the doorway caused her to jump out of her chair in fright.

  Who in the world could be calling on us at this time of the day?

  6

  “Good day, dear lady. Is your husband home?” Moloch said when Miriam came to the door.

  “I’m afraid he’s resting after a long day of work. If this is about business, you can come back tomorrow. Good night, sir.”

  The woman waited for them to leave, but they didn’t.

  “I must insist that you wake him. This is an urgent matter.” Moloch said.

  She paused for a moment, and then gave in to his demands. “Wait here. I’ll see if I can wake him.”

  Joseph came to the doorway a few minutes later looking more like a walking corpse than a human being. His face was pale and sweat poured down his long, brown beard.

  “I’m very sorry to bother you, Joseph. My name is Moloch. I have traveled here from Jerusalem. You are obviously not well, but I must request a moment of your time to discuss your son.”

  “My son? What about him?” Joseph eyes widened.

  “Not here. It might be better if this is just between us.” Moloch gestured to the window where his entire family stood watching their interaction.

  “Fine, but let’s make it quick.” Joseph said. He grabbed his walking stick and followed Moloch.

  “Where are you leading me?” Joseph said after traveling a short distance.

  “This should do fine.”

  Moloch stopped in front of a tavern and ushered Joseph and his men inside. It was crowded and noisy. Men were drinking wine and beer to excess while women of no reputation circled them like vultures. Romans and Hebrews sat side by side drinking and gambling as brothers. Vices are as wondrous as they are debilitating. They destroy the lives of those they afflict as well as their families, but can also bridge almost any social division. There was little chance of being overheard in such a place. The disapproving look on Joseph’s face told Moloch that the man had never set foot in this place before and had no desire to be there.

  Good men are the easiest sway.

  “Let’s make this quick. I’d rather not be seen in a place like this.” Joseph marched to a secluded corner and sat with his tilted forward.

  “Any man who is here would have no right to use it against you, but then again what one has the right to do and what he does are very different things.” Moloch stared into Joseph’s eyes. “For example: I don’t have the right to take your son away from you, yet that is still a possibility.”

  He had not planned to be so blunt and forceful with his opening remarks, but they seemed to have a desirable effect. Joseph sat up straight and stared back at Moloch.

  “What do you mean? Joshua is a good and faithful boy. He has done nothing wrong.” Joseph’s timid voice was barely audible against the din.

  “Fear not. He is not sought for any wrongdoing. Do you recall your pilgrimage to Jerusalem several months ago?” Joseph nodded his head. “The priests were quite impressed by your boy before you hurried him away. He has qualities that are quite rare even within our ranks.”

  Moloch looked around to make sure no one was watching. He pulled down on the collar of his ordinary brown robe to reveal a second, more elaborate tunic of gold. The High Priest would not be pleased, but he need not know everything. Fulfilling the mission was Moloch’s priority, and the ends mattered far more than the means.

  “You’re a priest?” Joseph spoke much louder than before, but with just as much surprise.

  A priest in Nazareth was a rarity. Not only was a large portion of the city populated by pagans, but the increasing popularity of the Pharisees made it a less inviting city for staunch traditionalists. The places in most dire need of the positive influence of holy men were often the most neglected.

  “I am, and as I said I come bearing word from the High Priest himself. He wishes for your son to become a rabbi, preaching the true word of Adonai to the wayward sheep who have been led astray by the false promises of the Pharisees. ‘With his charisma, insight, and cunning he will be a great champion for our cause.’ His words, not mine. I don’t see what use a boy will be, but it is not my place to question the will of the High Priest. Nor is it yours. Do not fear. You will be compensated for losing your apprentice.” Moloch tossed a bag of silver denarii on the table in front of Joseph.

  Joseph sat in contemplation for several minutes. He did not even look down at the silver. Fresh beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped onto the table.

  “No.” Joseph said, finding his voice. “I won’t allow my son to get caught up in your war with the Pharisees, the Romans, or anyone else you see as your enemy. What you propose is work for a man much older than my son. Joshua will live out his days as a carpenter like me and my father before me. I ask that you not trouble us with this again. And I don’t want your money.”

  Joseph stood and moved slowly towards the exit. Daniel and Samuel looked to Moloch for instructions, but he motioned his hand for them to wait.

  “He’s not moving fast, and it would be best if our next conversation took place in a less crowded place.” Moloch said to his men, and then got up to pursue Joseph.

  They followed him through the streets and alleyways tracing their way back towards his home. They circled Joseph when he was only a stone’s throw from his dwelling. Daniel and Samuel each grabbed a shoulder, preventing his escape without making it look like they were detaining him.

  “I wish you no ill will, but we require your son. Speak to him about it. He may like the idea more than you. Don’t his feelings count for anything? Think long and hard this time about your answer. Your next decision could have consequences you aren’t prepared to accept.”

  As Moloch spoke his last words he noticed that Joshua stood in the doorway of his home, watching them as they confronted his father. Moloch gestured for his men to release Joseph as soon as he saw the boy. Joseph didn’t speak, but his eyes pierced Moloch like a blade. He would not give up his son without a fight. Joseph turned and walked away from his assailants and toward his son. Joshua ran out to meet his father and help him inside.

  Prepared for such a refusal, Moloch pulled a piece of parchment from his robes and held it up in the air as he stared at Joshua. He then placed it inside a nearby barrel before turning to leave. Joseph still had his back to Moloch, but Joshua watched his every move.

  “He will not give us the boy.” Samuel said as they walked away.

  “He doesn’t have much of a choice. The High Priest’s wants the boy, and he will have him by any means necessary.” Daniel said. He was unaware that Moloch was the one who truly wanted Joshua.

  Moloch laughed at their comments.

  “Don’t be so negative Samuel, or so brash Daniel. I think it went rather well. This was just a courtesy. It’s the talk with the boy that really matters.”

  7

  Their eyes locked for only a moment, but it was enough. Even at fifty meters,
Joshua watched as the man his father had left with placed the papyrus inside a barrel. He knew in his bones it was meant for him.

  Joseph had seen none of this. The look on his face was grim, an uncommon affliction for a man who was always so happy and care free.

  “What did they want?” Joshua asked.

  Joseph did not answer. He pulled Joshua off to the side and watched as the three men retreated. When they were out of sight he turned to Joshua. “From now on, I don’t want you out in the streets alone. Anywhere I go, you go as well. Understood?”

  “Yes, Father. But...” Joshua started, but was not allowed to finish.

  “No buts. Do as I say.” Joseph roared the command.

  Joshua was not used to being snapped at by his father. He was frightened enough not to argue, but not frightened enough to ignore the letter that waited for him in the barrel.

  Dinner was on the table when they went inside. Elizabeth couldn’t wait to start, or to criticize.

  “This mutton is overcooked, Miriam. Fourteen years of cooking for your family and you still haven’t mastered it?” Then a few seconds later she said. “Pass me another piece of meat, and some bread as well. We can’t let anything go to waste.”

  Joseph, who led the conversation most days, remained silent. No tales of obnoxious or eccentric customers or questions about his wife’s day, only a blank stare as he moved his food around his bowl and took an occasional sip of water. Miriam stared at Joseph throughout the meal, but did not say a word.

  “May I be excused?” Joshua said. The tension in the air was stifling. Miriam looked down at his bowl, which was still half filled.

  “You may.” Miriam said.

  “You’re going to let the boy waste all of that Miriam?” Elizabeth said.

  “Don’t worry mother, I’ll take care of it.” Yohan grabbed the bowl from Joshua and began shoveling the food into his mouth. He was working hard to become as large as his mother.

  While everyone else finished their meal, Joshua went to his room. He lay on his bed of hay for what seemed like hours, wondering who the man was and what secrets the note might contain.

  I heard him say he wanted to talk about me before they left. Why would anyone want to talk about me?

  Elizabeth and Yohan left soon after dinner, and Joshua’s parents were asleep not long after that. It was time to make his move. Joshua snuck out and retrieved. He retreated to his room, careful not to make a sound as he tiptoed back through the house, and unfurled the letter.

  Joshua, if you are reading this, your father does not wish for you to know the truth. I have been sent by the High Priest to extend an offer to you. I did not wish to go behind Joseph’s back, but this is a decision he can’t make for you. I do not wish to divulge the matter in writing. If you wish to hear the proposition, I am staying at the White Horse Inn, room four, for the next three days. Please come visit me anytime.

  Moloch

  It was almost too much to bear. Pride and anger fought for control.

  The High Priest wants to extend an offer to me? Why would father keep such a wonderful prospect hidden from me? Should I go?

  The night was difficult. Joshua struggled with his decision, tossing and turning for hours. He pulled out the letter every few minutes, reading and rereading it in the dim light of his oil lantern. In the end, there was only one thing he could do. Promise or no promise, he was going to at least listen to Moloch’s offer.

  The next morning he set out at first light. No one stirred as he snuck out of the house for the second time. Joshua walked slowly down the deserted street. Every step he took was a betrayal of the promise he made to his father. He kept looking over his shoulder, thinking his father would be standing there ready to stop him. Joshua was ready to do whatever the High Priest wanted, or so he thought.

  8

  Joseph awoke the next morning before the sun rose. His pain worsened in the night, but the relief of surviving to see another day brought him great joy. He moved to the door, careful not to make a sound that might wake his wife. Elizabeth and Yohan were staying at a nearby inn, as they always did when they came to visit. The thought of sleeping in the workshop or in the back room dissatisfied Miriam’s pampered aunt. Her arrogance provided the perfect opportunity to speak to Joshua, possibly his last opportunity.

  When Joseph went to wake his son, he was startled to find that Joshua wasn’t in his room. He walked out to the workshop, but there was no sign of Joshua there either. Moloch immediately came to his mind.

  Surely I would have heard something if they came in the night.

  He searched for any sign of a struggle or possible clues. Nothing was broken or displaced in his son’s room, but on the floor he found a note signed by the priest.

  “Damn you, Moloch.” Joseph said after reading it through.

  “What are you doing, Joseph? Where’s Joshua?” Miriam appeared in the doorway. “Where’s my boy?”

  “He’s gone to run an errand for me, but wouldn’t you know he forgot the list I gave him.” Joseph held up Moloch’s note. “I guess I’ll have to go after him. Don’t worry. We’ll be back in no time.”

  He knew he must go after his son at all costs, but the debilitating illness cared not for his needs, and he wasn’t sure if he could walk the entire way. Going against his initial judgment, he retrieved the herbs Nathaniel gave him and took them all at once. Joseph hoped they would take effect quickly. Not waiting to find out, he rushed towards the White Horse Inn as fast as his weakened body would allow.

  9

  There was no one manning the front desk at the inn when Joshua arrived. Not surprising, given the hour. Joshua wandered down the hallway until he saw a man standing guard outside the last room. He was one of the two who were with Moloch the previous day. As Joshua approached, the guard’s hand moved to the sword at his hip.

  “What are you doing here so early boy?” He asked.

  “I’m here to see Moloch.” Joshua jumped back.

  The man looked him over for a moment, and then his eyes shot open. “Wait here for a moment. Let me wake him.”

  Joshua stood alone in the dark hallway wondering whether or not he made the right decision in coming. He started to walk away, and then stopped.

  I’ve come this far, I can’t turn back now.

  Moloch appeared in the doorway a few seconds later. Groggy but cheerful, he beckoned Joshua into his chamber.

  “I’m so glad you decided to come. It’s a bit early for my taste, but no matter.” Moloch’s laugh put Joshua more at ease and he entered. “If I were a betting man I’d say your father has no idea that you’re here. Am I right?”

  The weight of his guilt doubled at the accusation. Not only did he fail to get permission, but he had gone against Joseph’s explicit order not to go out alone. He dropped his head and stares at the floor.

  “Not to worry. You will receive no chastisement here. Sometimes small transgressions are necessary to accomplish a greater purpose. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I’ve never thought about it like that. I suppose it makes sense, though that isn’t what I’ve been taught.” Joshua said.

  “Daniel, Samuel, would you leave us for a moment. I’d like a private word with Joshua.”

  The two men nodded and walked out. Moloch poured two goblets of wine and handed one to Joshua.

  “Some might say it’s too early to drink, but I say it’s never too early or late for wine.” Moloch took a small sip and smacked his lips. “Wonderful wine you have here in Nazareth.”

  “I shouldn’t. My parents only let me have wine on special occasions.” Joshua said, placing his goblet down carefully. “Thank you for the offer.”

  “You come from a very good family to teach you such propriety, but it is not necessary in my presence. In this world there are leaders and there are followers, or shepherds and sheep as I call them. Each has their own rules and customs. You have been taught the ways of a sheep. I wish to make you a shepherd.”


  “Me?”

  It was an exciting thought. All his life Joshua felt special, different in some way from the people around him. He understood things easier, saw simple solutions that eluded others, and was never satisfied with his work as a carpenter. Joshua gave in to his fate as a woodworker, but he did not desire it nor was he very good at it. The carving skills Joseph possessed were not passed on to his son. When he cared enough about something, like Peter’s sandal, he could create passable items. But most of the time he found the work tedious and unrewarding, and the quality reflected his effort. To be given the chance to live up to his potential and express himself in a way he considered far more meaningful was something he never imagined possible.

  “Who are the sheep I am meant to shepherd?” Joshua asked, half joking. He was still not convinced that Moloch was serious.

  Moloch beckoned him to the window. The sun was still rising, shedding light on the quiet streets and bringing about a new day. A day filled with unlimited possibilities for some and never ending sameness for others.

  “The wayward sons of Adonai will be your flock. You will preach to those who have been lured away from the righteous path by the false promises and outright lies of the Pharisees, just as you preached to the people in the Temple. You are familiar with the Pharisees, of course?”

  “Yes I am, sir.” Joshua had encountered them both in Nazareth and on his visits to the Holy City. They often made a spectacle of themselves in the market, drawing in crowds with their eccentric garb and wild, if somewhat alluring, propositions. Some were even rabbis and ran their own synagogues.

  “Then you must realize the danger they pose. Dividing our people, withholding tithes necessary for our day to day operations, and committing acts of violence in no way helps achieve our goal of freeing the Holy Land from Roman control. We need to bring the people together. Unite them for a common cause. Will you join us?” Moloch placed his hands on Joshua’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. Joshua wanted to believe what Moloch was saying, but something about those eyes frightened him in a way he couldn’t explain. They were a shade of brown so dark they almost looked black.

  A noise from the doorway startled Joshua. There his father stood, breathing heavy and glaring at Moloch. The paper Joseph held in his hand told Joshua how he was found.

  Why did I leave it lying on the floor in my room?

  There was no time for words. Joseph rushed Moloch, burying his fist deep in the holy man’s stomach. Moloch threw Joseph to the ground. He stood and tackled Moloch. Both men were on the ground, striking one another with fists and knees. Joshua could not believe what he was seeing. His father had never given in to violent impulses before, yet now he attacked with the ferocity of a wild animal.

  Joshua rushed over and pleaded for them to stop, but neither man seemed to hear. The brawl only lasted a minute, but to Joshua it seemed like a lifetime. Daniel and Samuel must have heard Joshua’s cries, because they returned a few seconds later to end the fight. They pulled Joseph off of their master and held him tight until Moloch could stand and compose himself.

  “What shall we do with him, sir?” Daniel said, holding one of Joseph’s arms as he fought to break free.

  “Let him go. Under the circumstances I would expect no less a response from a loving father.” His voice hardened as he lifted Joseph’s head. Their eyes locked. “But lay a hand on me again and it will be the last thing you do. I’ve done your boy no harm. He came here of his own will. Speak to him and he will tell you.”

  The walk home was torture. Joshua wished his father would do something. Yell, threaten, punish, or even hit him. Anything would have been better than the silence. Joseph trudged forward without even a glance sideways to see if his son was still with him. He favored his right side as he walked. Joshua wanted to apologize, to beg forgiveness, but he wasn’t truly sorry. Moloch’s words had already begun to take hold. He liked to idea of becoming someone important, moving to the Holy City, and spending his days speaking instead of hammering.

  How do I tell my father I don’t want to follow in his footsteps after all that he has done for me?

  Miriam ran to meet them halfway up the road from the house.

  “Joshua, just because you’re a man now doesn’t mean you can go wherever you want without telling us.” Miriam said, and then shifted to her husband and stiffened. “Yes, I know he didn’t run an errand for you. I run all your errands so I know nothing needed to be done. We’ll deal with his actions tomorrow, and I’ll deal with you later. Elizabeth and Yohan will be here soon. Today’s celebration will be pleasant and fun for everybody.”

  With everything that happened since he read that note, Joshua forgot that it was his birthday. Not just his birthday, but his Bar Mitzvah, the day when he became a man in the eyes of his people. It didn’t matter what his father thought about Moloch or his offer, as a man the decision was his to make.

  “No.” Joseph stood and glared at his son. “We have to talk now. Go to the workshop and wait for me. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Without a word, Joshua did as he was told, eager to accept his punishment and attempt to make his father understand his actions and his wishes.

  10

  The anger that had taken hold of Joseph because of his son’s disobedience did not linger, but his fear remained. The curiosity of a young boy is not easily satisfied, and what is more curious than a proposal from the High Priest? Joseph believed that he might have been tempted by the priest’s letter if he was still a lad, but the idea of his son being taken away disturbed him.

  The High Priest wants another pawn to aid in his idealistic battle with the Pharisees, but my son won’t be that pawn. Verbal warfare always gives way to violence when neither side is willing to compromise. And if they find out who I am, who my son is, they will stop at nothing to get their hands on him.

  A lone voice in his head cried louder than all the others.

  Perhaps this is part of his destiny? Do not forget what happened shortly after his birth. Maybe his life is not meant to be spent in the shadows.

  There was no time to consider the possibilities. Joseph retrieved the chest from his room and went to speak to his son. The priest could wait; Joshua’s Bar Mitzvah present could not.

  “What’s that?” Joshua stared at the box as Joseph placed it on his workbench.

  “This chest holds a secret that our family has been keeping for generations. I know you were expecting me to scold you for what you did today, and you do deserve it, but there is something more important I need to talk to you about.” Joseph unlocked the chest with his pendant and took out the large, weathered tome. “Your life is a lie, as is mine.”

  Joshua stared with narrow eyes, unsure of what to make of his father’s claim. Words eluded him.

  “This book has been passed down in our family for almost one thousand years. It details the life of our great and noble ancestor. There is no easy way to explain this, so I’ll just say it. We are the last living descendants of King David.”

  Joshua’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide. Silence pervaded the air for over a minute. Joseph wanted to give Joshua time for the news to sink in before continuing.

  “I had the same reaction when my father told me of our lineage. It’s not an easy thing to understand.” Joseph laughed, causing his pain to get worse. He shrugged it off. The temporary relief the herbs had given him was gone, but there was still much more he needed to say.

  “If we are descendants of David, why are we carpenters? Why do we live in this little house, in this awful town so far from the Holy City?” Joshua stared into his father’s eyes. “Why aren’t we kings?”

  “I asked the very same question, and will give you the same answer I received.” Joseph took a deep breath before beginning his story.

  “For hundreds of years after David’s rule, his descendants warred with surrounding countries for the right to govern all of Israel and expand its territories. Some were great leaders, others were not, but a
s long as there was a blood relative of David the people gave their lives to secure the throne in his name. Countless men gave up their lives in pointless struggles for power, land, and wealth.

  “When the land was conquered by the Persian Empire, our ancestors remained in power as puppet kings for several generations. One of our ancestors, Zerubabel, refused to play the part. He faked his own death and went into hiding with his wife and child. From then on, every man in our family has spent his life as a humble carpenter serving the people we once ruled, always waiting for the Messiah to be born and lead our people to salvation.”

  Silence again.

  “So I’m just supposed to live my life knowing where I come from and never telling anyone? Never amounting to anything more than a simple carpenter?” The wonder on Joshua’s face melted away only to be replaced by anger.

  Joseph smiled, remembering the similar reaction he had when he learned the truth.

  “That was the plan. I wasn’t happy about it at first either. To know you come from such a noble ancestry, yet must resign yourself to the simple life. It feels as if the truth would be better lost than passed down. The plan, however, has changed.”

  “What do you mean?” Joshua asked.

  Joseph reached back into the box, pulling out a smaller ornate wooden container and two silver decanters. Memories of the night they came into his possession flooded his mind. The three men who bestowed the gifts were unexpected visitors bearing a message that changed the course of their lives. Not unlike Moloch, their presence and words were unwelcome at the time. Joseph still wasn’t sure whether or not to believe what they told him so many years ago, but Joshua needed to know.

  “When you were born, we lived in the town of Bethlehem. One day, soon after your birth, three scholars arrived at our door. They…” Joseph felt relief for the first time in days. All the pressure and pain inside his abdomen evaporated. The brief sensation ended as quickly as it began, and the pain returned worse than before. Joseph collapsed, unable to bear it any longer.

  “Father?” Joshua ran to him, kneeling beside Joseph and lifting his head off the hard earthen floor. “What’s wrong. Get up. Father!”

  “Never forget.” Joseph said, still clutching the Star of David in his hand. He held it out for his son to take. The moment Joshua grabbed it, Joseph’s arm, along with his entire body, went limp. He did not wake again.

  11

  The smell of earth filled Amara with renewed energy and purpose as she glided noiselessly across the harsh landscape. Most would be lost in the blackness of the barren roadways after nightfall, but Amara’s eyes were akin to an owl’s after years of twilight excursions. Those eyes now searched for something to eat as her empty stomach cried out to be filled. It had been days since her last proper meal. There were no nearby streams to fish, large game was scarce, and small game even scarcer.

  Amara hated resorting to thievery, but at times it was an unavoidable necessity. She spotted a fire in the distance and moved towards it with her bow drawn, ready to strike at the first sign of trouble.

  They must be weary travelers taking a break from the Roman Road.

  Built during their campaign to seize Judea and dozens of other provinces, the road provided the safest and most direct route between Rome and Jerusalem. Merchants were its primary travelers, along with the bandits who took full advantage of their vulnerability on the open road. The fire provided the peddlers with warmth and protection from all manner of creatures, but it also led Amara right to them. She saw them and they didn’t see her. Stealth was her ally, darkness her comrade.

  Only take what you need, Amara. No god will fault you for that.

  The voice of her grandfather’s echoed in her mind as she drew closer to her target. Two years deceased and he still influenced her every move. The dead never truly leave the world until they are forgotten.

  Though the fire was burning low, even a few embers would give away an encampment in the black void. Two men lay sprawled out on the rocky floor, their snores audible from a great distance. Amara crept up to their wagon to search for anything of value, longing most for any crumb of food. She slung her bow across her back to free her hands and began rummaging through the wagon’s contents, careful to keep one eye on the sleeping victims. The wagon contained mostly carved stone idols of Roman and Egyptian deities. They weren’t worth much, enough for a few meals at most. One of the men was likely a stone worker, traveling from village to village peddling his creations with the help of his apprentice.

  Filling her satchel with the ones she thought would fetch the most in trade, Amara stopped when she came upon an idol of the Egyptian god Anubis. She remembered all the stories her grandfather had told her about the gods, but Anubis held a special place in her heart. As guardian of the world of the dead, it was his duty to take the deceased before the gods for judgment.

  How were you judged, grandfather?

  She thought of all the wonderful and terrible things they had done together, of the mother she had never known, and the homeland she had never been able to visit. Whatever his fate, she knew it was her fault. Lost in thought for several minutes, she had taken her eyes off of her would be victims.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” A hand latched onto Amara’s wrist. It pulled her down from the wagon and dragged her to where the second man lay sleeping on the ground. “Wake up, Creet, you idiot. You were supposed to be keeping watch. It looks like we’ve got ourselves a little thief, and a pretty one at that.”

  The man holding onto Amara smiled. At first look, he seemed more animal than man. Thick black hair covered his arms, face, and the part of his chest not covered by his robe. His few teeth were crooked and discolored an unnatural brown. An overwhelming stench emitted from his mouth, so vile it caused Amara to gag at arm’s length. Creet got to his feet, still groggy and half asleep. He was much younger, with a lean build and smooth face. Amara was in trouble, and she knew it. If caught stealing in the city one would have Roman justice to face, but out on the road there was only death for thieves and worse than death for female thieves.

  Never let your guard down, even for a moment.

  “What’s going on, Barba?” Creet asked.

  “This girl was helping herself to some of our goods. Not a very nice thing to do. I’ll not work my fingers to the bone all day to have some succubus swoop in and steal my creations.” His voice echoed off the rocks and boulders.

  “Don’t hurt her, she’s just a girl.” There was fear in Creet’s eyes as he went against his master. Barba’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

  “Oh I won’t hurt her much, if she cooperates that is. As long as she plays nice I’ll let her live. Ever been with a girl Creet?” Creet did not answer. “Of course you haven’t. This one’s a fine wench. Maybe we’ll make a man out of you when I’m done.” Amara struggle to break his grip, but he held tight. “Don’t fight me girl, unless you enjoy the thought of a sword through the gut.”

  Amara nodded. Barba ripped open her cloak.

  “You can’t, master. It isn’t right.” Creet grabbed hold of Barba’s arm.

  Amara seized the opportunity, grabbing the dagger concealed in her robe with her free hand. In one swift motion she cut Barba’s arm, freeing her from his grip. Another upward swing with the blade failed to meet its mark. The powerful cut was meant to maim and mutilate Barba, but he jumped back in time. Unable to balance on the uneven ground he leaned forward, and the blade cut deep into his cheek and right eye.

  “Aggghhhhh.” He cried.

  Amara ran for the road as fast as her legs allowed. Creet stood motionless, mouth agape, as she fled. She stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked back at the scene.

  “Get back here you little bitch. You’re dead, you hear me? I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth.” Barba cried, still clutching his eye as his blood pooled on the forest floor.

  Never leave an enemy alive.

  Barba got a good look at her. There was only o
ne option if she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. Amara pulled the bow from her back and drew an arrow from her quiver, her last arrow. Barba continued to scream, embers from the fire illuminated him as Amara aimed her shot at his heart. She took a deep breath and released. A perfect shot, yet it did not hit its mark.

  “No!” Creet stepped in front of Barba, shielding his master from harm. The arrow pierced his body, and he dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

  Amara stood still, looking at the carnage she caused. Barba got to his feet and began running in her direction, ignoring the pain as blood continued to flow down his face. There was nothing more Amara could do without risking her safety, so she scurried into the darkness as tears ran down her cheeks.

  12

  Heracles walked slowly down the long, shadow filled halls of the palace. He clutched the missive that informed him of his meeting with Captain Dreyfus. They knew each other long before Dreyfus became a captain, fighting alongside one another in many battles as equals, but it had been years since they had spoken. Officers rarely found time to mingle with common soldiers, and Dreyfus was no exception. The minute he received his promotion he forgot all about the men who risked their lives protecting his.

  “The captain is busy at the moment, Heracles.” The guard stationed outside of the throne room said. He was the last man who stood between Heracles and the great hall where King Herod once held court.

  There was no more king to rule, only a governor. After the death of Herod the Great, his land was split between three of his sons. Archelaus ruled Judea, but his reign did not last. He wanted all of his father’s land for himself, but proved quickly he wasn’t fit to rule even the portion he received. The Roman province of Judea was nearly torn apart by his inept leadership. Never before had the diverse inhabitants of Judea united as when they pleaded that Caesar Augustus end the suffering they endured under the tyrannical rule of the Archelaus. Caesar’s solution was simple, but effective. If the ruler could not keep his people in line, there would not be a Hebrew leader. Instead, a governor was installed to oversee tax collection and maintain peace. The governor in charge of Judea had many obligations in multiple lands, and only visited Jerusalem during religious holidays and times of crisis. While he was away, the captain of the guard assumed the leadership role in his stead.

  “I’ve got some business to take care of and my relief doesn’t come by for a few hours, do you mind watching the door for me while I take care of it?” The guard asked Heracles as he danced from one foot to the other and scrunched his face.

  “Fine, but you better hurry back, Dreyfus won’t be happy to see me standing watch.” Heracles said. The guard scurried away as fast as he could manage with his legs pressed together.

  Heracles overheard voices inside the hall, and curiosity took hold. He snuck inside the doorway and, concealed from view by a large pillar, eavesdropped on a conversation between the captain and his lieutenant, Kacius.

  “There has been another attack. Two more of our men are dead.” Dreyfus said.

  That makes five in all.

  “Were there any witnesses this time?” Kacius asked.

  “No, they are not foolish enough to be seen, but you and I both know who is responsible. Those priests have resented us for decades. In the past, there were public displays of dissension. Now they have chosen to go against us in the shadows in an attempt to cast doubt, but it will not help them escape retribution.”

  It was common knowledge among the soldiers that Dreyfus held no love for the Hebrews or their leaders. He felt the priests did not deserve to keep their mock leadership roles or lavish lifestyles, and that the allowance of their own personal guard, however limited in number, was a threat to the peace and stability of the Roman Empire in Judea. Kacius never seemed to care much about the privileges they had as long as they stayed in line. He was a practical man above all else, and could see the dangers on the road the captain’s thoughts were traveling.

  “There can be no retribution without proof. More than half the population of this city serves the god Adonai. To act against their leaders would bring about large scale rebellion. Thousands of lives sacrificed to avenge a few? It seems imprudent.” Kacius said.

  The Hebrews had been trampled underfoot for years, pushed so low on the social ladder that most could not make an honest living. More were turning to thievery and violence every day. Once an animal is backed into a corner it has no choice but to fight its way free, and people are no different. To attack their figureheads might be a catalyst for full scale war.

  “That’s why I’ve requested your presence. The priests have long argued that the small contingent of personal guards we allow them is not sufficient for their protection. Not enough for an uprising is what they mean. I’ve heard rumors that they often recruit additional men in the streets. Anyone handy with a sword and able to hold his tongue for coin suffices, but why not a disgraced Roman soldier thirsty for vengeance, one that can provide them with useful information on their enemy.” Dreyfus paused, and then added. “I wish for you to take on this task for on behalf of your fallen brothers and the entire Roman Empire. Find proof of their treachery and bring it to light so that we can stamp them out like the rats they are.”

  A fool’s errand, don’t do it Kacius.

  There was a long pause before Kacius responded. Heracles stuck his head out from behind the pillar to see what was happening. Kacius was looking at the ground, his thumb and index finger rubbing his chin.

  “It will be done.”

  “Excellent. I’d trust no one else with this task. Your cover story will be provided, but I can offer you little other assistance. Good luck, my friend.” Dreyfus said.

  “I won’t need luck.”

  “Very well, you are dismissed, for good.”

  A few seconds later Kacius strode out the door, oblivious to Heracles’ presence behind the pillar.

  “Damn guards always leaving their posts.” Heracles heard Kacius mutter as he walked down the hallway and out of sight.

  Heracles didn’t care much about Kacius’ mission, only what it might do for him. He knew he wasn’t meant to know about it, and knowledge can be more valuable than gold in the right circumstance. His time to speak with the captain had arrived. He waited a few moments and then walked up to Dreyfus as if he just came in from outside.

  “You summoned me, sir?” Heracles approached the throne where Herod the Great once sat. Dreyfus sat in it now, though he did not hold the same authority. “The chair suits you. It’s such a pity that the governor will return before long.”

  “That fool has three provinces to govern, and spends as little time here as possible. Who would want to be in Jerusalem when they can spend their days in Caesarea?” The captain sneered as he rose to his feet. “I wouldn’t trust him with one province, but Caesar is emperor and he has a sharper mind than I when it comes to such matters.” Heracles laughed at the captain’s comment.

  False praise is such a poor way to hide resentment.

  “I hear you had quite the night. You made a scene in a local tavern again. Cut down three men and wounded two more, all while drinking more than a horse could endure. I’ve suffered your antics long enough. You are a disgrace to the city watch.” Dreyfus moved closer to Heracles with each word.

  “As I recall they attacked me first. I couldn’t help but defend myself.” Heracles replied.

  His head was still foggy from the excessive amount of ale he consumed, but he remembered the incident well. A group of men came up to him and demanded money. When he refused they grabbed him and took him outside. They thought they could beat it out of him, but they were no match. He had been called before his superiors for similar offenses with no repercussions in the past, and felt no reason to deny his actions.

  “Because you owe a large gambling debt that you have failed to repay. Do not think for a moment I don’t know the truth. I have tolerated you as long as possible, given our history, but th
at tolerance is at an end.”

  Like all men Heracles had his vices. Drinking and gambling led to many close calls in previous years. Gambling was barred by Roman law, though that didn’t prevent anyone from partaking in the activity.

  “What do you mean?” Heracles said, his hand not yet clutching his sword but at the ready.

  “You have no need to fear for your life. That’s not why I called you here. There is no value in your death, quite the opposite. Too many of our men owe you their lives. Your execution would be detrimental to already declining morale.” Dreyfus juggled a gold coin between his fingers as he spoke.

  “Then why am I here?”

  “I am relieving you of duty, effective immediately. I don’t need a drunken fool killing civilians and causing problems for me. You may keep your life for past deeds of valor, but the rest of your personal effects are to be turned over at once. Keep your nose clean, Heracles, or the next time I won’t be so kind.”

  Heracles took his armor off and tossed it at Dreyfus’s feet. Helmet, breastplate, gauntlets, greaves and shield were cast aside one by one. He turned to leave, calling back over his shoulder.

  “I’m keeping my sword.”

  13

  Joseph grew hot and pale after he lost consciousness. Joshua’s screaming alerted his mother.

  “What’s wrong?” Miriam said as she rushed into the workshop. She then saw her husband lying on the floor. “Joseph!”

  “He collapsed, I don’t know what happened.” Joshua said.

  Miriam ran to get Nathaniel while Joshua stayed at his father’s side. Remembering his father’s words about keeping their secret, Joshua packed up his inheritance and hid the box inside an unfinished coffin in the corner of the workshop, a place no thief would ever think to look.

  The rabbi was unable to do anything more than help make Joseph a little more comfortable with a blend of herbs to ease his pain. Miriam and Joshua did not leave his side until he died the following day. The events after that were a blur to Joshua. He covered his father’s body and stood guard, as was custom. Yohan, after some protest, relieved him so that he could prepare the coffin.

  As carpenters, they always had a few caskets ready. It was impossible to tell when they might be needed, and tradition dictated that burial take place within one day of death. Joseph was buried in a casket of his own making, something Joshua knew he would have been pleased about. He loved all of his creations, even those meant for such grim tasks.

  Shame and grief came in waves to the young carpenter, one replacing the other as fast as the ebb and flow of the tide. It seemed impossible to feel both at once. He had seen the bruise on his father’s side and the pain he was in, despite his attempts to hide it. Joshua believed that one of the blows Joseph suffered at the inn caused his passing. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he thought of it. Joshua wished he was dead, not his father. Joseph’s words, spoken while preparing a child’s coffin the year before, were clear in his head.

  “It is a fate worse than death when a father must bury his son. No man deserves that pain.”

  Would you still feel that way now, after what I did? I killed you, Father. I don’t deserve to live.

  14

  Joseph’s death complicated matters for Moloch. Staying in Nazareth for several weeks was not in the plan, and the High Priest would wonder what became of him. Paranoia, or caution as he preferred think of it, prevented Moloch from sending word to his brother. Trust was not something he gave to just anyone, and there was little to report other than the delay. The second part of his mission proved fruitless. They failed to run into a single Pharisee during their first few days in the city. Regular trips into the streets had yielded no results, and it became a more tedious and disheartening trek each time.

  “What a disgrace. Once upon a time a priest was welcome everywhere he went in these lands. Now, I have to hide who I am from the world as if I have leprosy.” Moloch said to his men as he got ready for the funeral.

  “If you want to wear your golden robes it won’t bother me. Let someone make an attempt on your life and see what happens. My blade hasn’t had any fun for too long.” Samuel said, running his hand along the edge of his sword.

  “I’m afraid it will have to go without amusement a little longer. I’ll not need your protection at the burial site. You two may have the day off to enjoy yourselves. How long has it been since you did that?”

  “Do you really think that wise?” Daniel chimed in. “Besides, this is what we enjoy.”

  “Funerals are not known for their dangers.” Moloch laughed and went on his way.

  It was Nathaniel who informed him of Joseph’s death. Moloch was worried that he was responsible at first, knowing it would make things much more difficult for him. Despite his threats, he never had any intention of harming Joseph. Nathaniel assured him that the death was natural. Their quarrel certainly didn’t help his situation, but the result was inevitable. Moloch met with Nathaniel at the synagogue and they journeyed to the burial site together.

  “You’re not wearing your priest’s robes?” Nathaniel said.

  “I feel it is best not to make a scene. I only wish to go to pay my respects to the family. No one else needs to know who I am.” Moloch explained.

  The burial site was several kilometers outside the city. Leaving his men behind was essential. It would be disrespectful to carry weapons at a funeral, and his men would never relinquish them while they drew breath.

  When they arrived at the site, Moloch was astounded by the people gathered in the area. The number alone was impressive, several hundred were present by his estimate, but it was the diversity of the mourners that astonished him. Not only were there members of the Hebrew community, but by their garb he could identify Samaritans, Romans, Greeks, and even some Egyptians. It was a highly irregular occurrence to see groups that by rule hate, or at the very least look down on one another to come together for a funeral.

  The simple wooden casket sat on a hilltop next to a pile of freshly dug earth. It was closed to prevent anyone from seeing the deceased, a custom many Romans could not comprehend.

  “Would you want someone to look at you if you couldn’t look back?” Moloch once responded when asked about the tradition by an ignorant heathen in the Holy City.

  Joshua and Miriam stood close to the coffin, their garments torn on the left side just above their hearts. This signified closeness to the deceased. An older woman and a boy Joshua’s age also had torn robes, but theirs were on the right side.

  There were several readings from the Torah by Nathaniel, accompanied by the customary psalms. Then the time came for the family to speak. Miriam did not speak, nor did she seem capable. There was not a single moment during funeral when her eyes were dry. It was Joshua who spoke. He stood on the hilltop next to his father’s casket and spoke what was in his heart to the crowd of mourners. He held Moloch’s attention from the first word to the last.

  “Thank you all for coming. With times so difficult, I know what even a few hours away from work can create hardships for you and your families. My father loved this spot. He would spend hours here every Sabbath under this olive tree reading and writing. As his second home, it seemed fitting that he be laid to rest here.” Joshua scanned the audience. “As I look out at you all I am reminded of all the good my father did in his life. He worked hard every day, often for less than fair prices or sometimes even for free, and he never once complained. He taught me how to read, write, and count at an early age, even though most of the other children were already hard at work learning their trades. Knowledge and wisdom were more important to him than any amount of strength, influence, or money. ‘Knowledge is merely a collection of facts and ideas, but wisdom is the ability put it to good use.’ was one of his favorite sayings. My father was the wisest man I ever met. For his sake, I hope the Pharisees are right about life after death. If any man deserves to be with Adonai in paradise, it is my father.”

  The blasphemy enraged Moloch, but
he couldn’t show it. There was something more pressing on his mind. Throughout his entire speech, no eye had strayed from the boy. His words were nothing special, but the way he spoke them caught the attention of every man and woman in attendance. The performance in the Holy City was no fluke. Joshua wielded the power to captivate the people with ordinary words. His eloquence and poise were second to none, and he made it feel as if he were speaking to each person as an individual instead of a crowd. The realization only increased Moloch’s desire to acquire Joshua. The boy’s softness towards heretical views would need to be stamped out of him, but that would be easy enough in one so young and impressionable.

  The casket was lowered into the ground. Each mourner dropped a handful of dirt on top to help bury Joseph. It was a final act of pure kindness, generosity, and love; one that could not be repaid.

  Several hours passed before Moloch was able to speak to the widow and offer his condolences. An older woman held onto her, supporting her while she accepted the regrets of the masses. Such things were not often done at the burial site, but with such a large group it was necessary.

  “My sincerest regret goes out to you my lady.” Moloch greeted Miriam with a bow.

  “Thank you, sir. Do I know you?”

  “I only met you and your husband briefly. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I had a discussion with him regarding your son’s future, one that I hope to continue with you.”

  “My niece can’t entertain such nonsense right now. I’ll ask you to show some respect and leave business for much later.” The older woman interjected.

  “Not now, of course, but after the Shiva has ended I’ll call upon you. It is a matter of some urgency. I apologize for my inappropriate timing.” Moloch said.

  If Miriam heard his words, it did not show. She nodded and moved onto the next man waiting to share in her grief. Remaining in Nazareth was an inconvenience, but Moloch could not interrupt the Shiva under any circumstances.

  The Shiva is a seven day mourning period following the burial of a loved one. The immediate family is unable to work, partake in any joyous activity, or even prepare their own meals. During this time, the extended family and community are responsible for making sure that the needs of the grieving are met.

  Moloch surveyed the area, searching for Joshua, but did not find the boy. He had hoped to speak with him far more than his mother. It mattered little. They could not leave until the mourning period ended. Seven more days in Nazareth gave him a chance to fulfill the second part of his mission, and perhaps satisfy the bloodlust of his men as well.

  15

  Elizabeth sent word to Zechariah that her visit would be extended for the duration of her niece’s grieving. She took on the role of caretaker for the family during Shiva. Though it was obvious she held no love for Joseph, she was not one to shirk her obligations. It proved both a blessing and a curse. The food she prepared was wonderful, but her attitude proved insufferable.

  “What are you going to do Miriam?” Elizabeth prodded every few minutes. “Your husband could barely provide for your family as it was. Now you only have Joshua, and we all know he’s a poor substitute for Joseph. His woodwork is disgraceful.”

  “Now is not the time to talk about that.” Miriam said.

  Miriam and Elizabeth had an unorthodox relationship. To the casual observer it would appear that they were mother and daughter, not aunt and niece. Elizabeth was advanced in age, while Miriam had yet to reach her thirtieth year. Miriam’s parents died while she was still a young girl, so Elizabeth and Zechariah took her in and raised her as if she was their own. It wasn’t until Miriam married Joseph that Yohan was conceived. He and Joshua were born only a few months apart.

  “Death is always hard, but there are tough decisions ahead.” Elizabeth pressed on.

  “I said not now!” Miriam said as she slammed her fist onto the table. Elizabeth shook her head and left the room.

  Though they were family, Miriam and Elizabeth rarely saw each other. The stark differences in their characters led to many ugly disagreements, and those differences had been passed onto their children. Where Joshua was humble and reserved, Yohan was boisterous and rude. As Elizabeth’s late in life miracle child, Yohan could do no wrong and only the best of things were good enough for him.

  Miriam grieved for her husband first and foremost, but in the back of her mind she wondered if she could survive a week with her aunt.

  16

  Joshua’s guilt consumed him for two days after the burial. He was unable to eat or sleep, and couldn’t bear to look at his mother as she wept. On the third day Nathaniel stopped by to check on the family, having no idea about the burden the young boy carried.

  “Losing a parent is one of the most devastating things you will ever go through. There is little I can do to ease your pain. Just know that it will lessen with time.” Nathaniel placed his hand on Joshua’s shoulder.

  “No, it won’t. How can it ever lessen when it was my fault?”

  “It’s not your fault child.”

  Joshua explained everything: His disobedience, the fight, and his father’s bruises. He trembled horribly as he recited the tale.

  “Listen to me very carefully, Joshua.” Nathaniel grabbed hold of Joshua’s shaking body, forcing their eyes to lock. “Your father was sick. He came to me the day before that fight and I told him he didn’t have much time. This was not your fault.”

  The knowledge washed over him, absorbed in waves.

  It’s not my fault? It’s not Moloch’s fault?

  “You’re sure?” Joshua asked.

  “On my honor as a rabbi, your father could not be saved.”

  The new knowledge did not help ease Joshua’s grief, but it did alleviate the majority of his guilt.

  On the final day of Shiva, Joshua’s thoughts began to roam back to the last conversation he had with his father. He still wasn’t sure he believed it. Joseph had never lied to him before, but the idea that he was be descended from King David was too fantastic to fathom. Despite his still heavy heart, Joshua’s curiosity didn’t allow him to rest until he learned more. He snuck out to the workshop to examine his inheritance when everyone else was occupied. Elizabeth and Yohan were at the market gathering supplies for dinner. Miriam refused to accompany them despite Elizabeth’s urging.

  “The fresh air will do you good. This small house is stifling.” Elizabeth said.

  Miriam agreed to get out, but not to go with them. Instead, she visited her friend Marta who lived a few houses away. Elizabeth didn’t invite Joshua to go with them, but that didn’t bother him. He had no desire to associate with his cousin any more than was necessary, and didn’t want to waste his first opportunity to explore the contents of the box. Joshua needed to know what Joseph had tried to tell him before he died.

  Who were the three men? How did they change my path? What am I supposed to do?

  The workshop seemed different to Joshua. He looked at the few unfinished projects around him, wondering how he would ever be able to finish them without his father. Joseph had been a master carpenter, but Joshua never considered himself to be more than mediocre. Perhaps with a few more years of guidance he would have improved. As he was there was little chance anyone would pay for his work.

  Joshua cleared a spot for the chest on the workbench and retrieved it from its hiding place. He took the necklace his father had left him, placed it in the slot, and turned it. His hands shook as he lifted the lid. Even though he knew what was inside, its significance remained a mystery.

  One by one he took out each item, examined them carefully, and placed them off to the side. The first and second seemed to be a twin pair, two small decanters of silver. He opened each of them. One contained an amber resin, and the other a red resin. Each had its own distinct earthy smell. Joshua had no idea what they were. The silver containers than held them were thick and heavy. He could not believe his father owned something so valuable.

  The next item was a
small chest. It had tremendous weight for such a tiny box. The ornately carved wood hid some intriguing and unknown treasure, but he could not open it. There didn’t appear to be a lock, yet the lid would not budge. Not wanting to break it, he set it aside and decided to worry about it later.

  The last items seemed much plainer than the rest. Joshua grabbed two books from the bottom of the chest. The newer one, his father’s journal, was in good shape. It was no secret that Joseph kept a journal, but Joshua never thought it contained anything beyond mundane daily happenings. The other, the one his father said belonged to David, was not in good condition. The pages were discolored, the ink was faded, and there was a deep gash in the cover. Joshua couldn’t resist. He had to know if it was actually written by David.

  17

  A strange man visited our home today. He said his name was Samuel. He was dressed in rags and a terrible odor emanated from him. Any normal man would have turned him away on sight. But my father, having been very successful all of his life, always tries his best to show compassion to the less fortunate. The servants bathed Samuel, clothed him, fed him, and attempted to send him on his way. The man refused to leave until he met with my father and his sons. Not wanting to have the man harmed by forcible removal my father agreed. What the vagrant said shocked him.

  “I am a prophet of the Lord, sent to anoint the future King of Israel.” Samuel told my father.

  It would sound like a ludicrous claim to most people, but my father is a superstitious and faithful man. The idea that one of his sons was destined for greatness did not surprise him in the least. When I first heard about this claim from my brother, I assumed Samuel was a con man, trying to pry open my father’s coin purse. False prophets are not an uncommon sight, men who make a living preying on the kindness and faith of others. I didn’t want to cause a commotion, so I held my tongue and waited.

  Samuel met with each of my older brothers first.

  “No.”

  “Not him.”

  “Definitely not him.”

  Samuel dismissed them all one by one. When none of my brothers were deemed worthy, my father reluctantly introduced him to me. I have always been the black sheep of the family, preferring to tend my flock and play my lyre instead of learning my father’s business. To everyone’s surprise, Samuel claimed that I would be the future king. I put no stock in the ramblings of a crazy old man, but I have felt very strange since he rubbed that oil on my forehead. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.

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