Striking with the swiftness of a cobra, Hanan’s hand rose and fell to Moshav’s chest. Legs thrashed the air then smashed into the dirt to never move again. Rising to his feet, Hanan dragged Moshav’s body back up the trail to thicker brush and hid the corpse.
A scowl edged across Abaddon’s face as anger filled his eyes. He watched until Hanan vanished from sight around a winding turn in the valley, heading back to Jerusalem.
Adjusting his cowl, Abaddon walked away from the edge of the cliff.
“Another day, Yeshua... Another day,” he muttered.
Chapter Ten
26 A.D.
Nazareth, District of Galilee
Hanan waved to the men in the watchtower as he and Yeshua turned off the dirt path to stroll between the orchard’s olive trees. The sun was setting on the horizon and the evening air was cool.
“Your favorite tree,” Yeshua said, motioning to the wide-girthed tree Hanan always walked to. “You were sitting here when we first met as boys. I was returning home and took a wrong turn.”
Hanan grinned as he eased to the ground to lean against the gnarled bark. “Yes, and I was afraid the men in the watchtower would report you to my uncles and we would both be in trouble.”
“Both? Why would you have been in trouble?” Yeshua took a seat beside his friend and glanced about the field. He closed his eyes a moment as he inhaled the scent of the orchard.
Hanan’s laughter came louder than he expected. “Who knows what reasons boys of twelve have for what they think? As for us being in trouble, Yosef would have only given you a hard stare while Micah shook his finger in your face and ordered you to stay out of the orchard. Nothing more. They were good about such things.” Hanan stared off at the horizon.
“Do you miss Micah? I know the coughing sickness was difficult on you and Yosef in his last months.”
A long silence passed between the two men. “Seeing someone’s health dwindle before your eyes, becoming unrecognizable each day from what they once were, is never easy. Yes, I miss him and owe him much for all he did for me...” Hanan drew quiet a moment then smiled. “... But I still have my grumpy, old uncle Yosef to contend with, watching over me and assisting with Micah’s trade businesses.”
Yeshua made a soft nod. “I give thanks to Elohim for taking father in his sleep, without suffering. He worked hard all of his life, loved my mother, me, and my brothers and sisters, and taught me the scriptures and a craft. But father and Micah are now in my Father’s house. One day we will see them again.”
“Well, until that day arrives, I suppose I’ll continue with Micah’s businesses and you will continue in Josef’s footsteps as a carpenter,” Hanan said half-heartedly. But his thoughts were on the missions, the steady increase of taxes the Romans constantly demanded, the mounting dissension among the Jews toward their oppressors—and the newly arrived Prefect of Judea, Pontius Pilate, whose reputation for cruelty had preceded his arrival.
“No, I believe my time has come. Elohim told me so in my prayers. I’ll be leaving.”
Hanan turned to his friend, confused by Yeshua’s words. “What time has come?”
Raising his gaze to the cloudless sky, Yeshua stared for several seconds then let his gaze drift to Hanan. “Tomorrow is the Sabbath, and I will go to the synagogue as is my custom. I will read from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah and the people will know me at last. Then I must leave for it to begin.”
Eyes narrowed, Hanan looked at his friend. “Know you at last? The people of Nazareth already know you. You’ve lived here since you were a child nursing on your mother. What will you read from the prophet? Tell me, because you’ve left me thoroughly confused—and worried.”
An expression of sincerity passed over Yeshua’s face and his dark eyes burned with passion. “I will tell them that the Spirit of the Elohim is upon me. He has anointed me to bear good news to the poor, proclaim freedom for the prisoners, give sight to the blind, and set the oppressed free. This is the year of Elohim’s favor.”
Hanan sat stunned, his mouth agape. Words failed him.
A gentle smile formed on Yeshua’s lips as he gazed at his friend. “Then I will tell them that the scripture is fulfilled by their hearing of my words.”
“I must be with you tomorrow! You’ll need protection from the people when you say these things. They will call you a blasphemer, shout threats, and want to stone you or throw you off the cliff. Yeshua, you’re saying that you are The Messiah.”
A nod answered Hanan. “No one will believe me. That is to be expected. No prophet is accepted in his town. I must prove it through deeds as my Father directs me, and the fulfillment of the prophecies to their end.” Having spoken, Yeshua drew solemn. He gazed at the ground and raised his eyes. “I have a request, my friend, one which greatly bothers me.”
“There is nothing you can ask of me that I would turn away from. Now, tell me what is so disturbing to you?” Hanan asked, lightly shaking his head.
“After I speak in the synagogue, I must leave Nazareth. There are actions I must take to begin this path Elohim had chosen for me. My mother, Miriam, needs someone to watch over her and ensure her safety and welfare. I trust my siblings, but I trust you more. There will be dark days ahead and she will need someone with a lion’s courage and a bull’s strength to lean on. Please be that person for her when those days come.”
“Your words are difficult to understand concerning all that is to come about, but one thing is clear between us—your mother will be safe. I have men to keep watch and see she is never harmed nor without food or shelter.”
Yeshua warmly smiled. He nodded in gratitude and reached out to pat Hanan’s knee. When Yeshua touched him, he startled as if struck by a fierce cold shiver.
“Are you hurt?” Hanan anxiously glanced about the ground expecting to see a scorpion or snake moving away from his friend.
“The image of a large curved dagger flashed in my mind,” Yeshua said, leaving him muddled as to its meaning. “This happens... I see things which I do not understand and must wait for Elohim to make them clear in time.”
Hanan’s mouth was agape. He didn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to reach beneath his robe to see if the Sica was still at the small of his back. “Fear for your mother’s safety is playing tricks on you. I will see to her welfare and provide her with money.”
“A man could not have a better friend,” Yeshua replied. He glanced at the dim light in the orchard. “I must go now. Tomorrow will be a long day, and I have much to prepare for before leaving.”
The two men stood, a blend of sorrow and confusion upon their faces as they struggled to find the words to say goodbye.
“Tomorrow at the synagogue, do not worry when the people grow angry at me. I will be protected by Elohim.”
“When you leave, where will you go?”
“Galilee. There are several men I will ask to follow me as I do my Father’s work,” Yeshua replied.
“Of all places you’re going to Galilee? They’re fishermen! Everyone knows they are stubborn, zealous people who argue about the least thing. You would ask such men to help you with Elohim’s plans?” Hanan was beginning to wonder if his friend had fully gone mad.
“Elohim doesn’t choose perfect people to carry out His plans. Moses stuttered when he went before Pharaoh; Noah was a drunkard; David was a shepherd boy when he went before Goliath, and there are others who had weaknesses but chosen for greatness. I will be fine among the Galileans, in time you will see,” Yeshua said. He slowly nodded to his friend. “Until we meet again.”
Hanan stood in silence and watched Yeshua walk away.
***
It was mid-morning when Yeshua arrived at the synagogue. His sandals were as plain as his one-piece tunic and the himatia robe which he wore cast over the left shoulder and wrapped about his body. About his neck hung a cream-colored prayer
shawl with a blue stripe he would wear over his head once he entered the synagogue. Yeshua never wore white or bright colored clothes because he believed it to be a sign of the rich, always preferring the gray, tan or cream colors the poor wore that came from the sheep of the fields.
The day was already warming the interior of the building, and the usual large crowd had taken most of the available seats. Hanan was glad to stand outside the front door where air flowed, and from his position, he could jump into a crowd to protect Yeshua if they demanded his blood.
Yeshua removed his sandals and eased his prayer shawl over his head, never glancing at Hanan. He appeared different, his expression far more solemn than Hanan could ever recall seeing. Entering the synagogue, Yeshua moved through the building until he took his seat near Rabbi Jacob ben Magen, the elder of Nazareth.
Straining to listen, Hanan heard the rabbi reciting prayers and the people responding in order. There was a general talk of scriptures then Rabbi Jacob announced that Yeshua would read from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah.
Yeshua spoke the words he’d told Hanan he would say. All within the synagogue were silent until Yeshua announced, “I am the Anointed One.”
An explosion of gasps, outcries, and angry shouts came.
Hanan glanced around the door’s corner to look inside the building. As expected, he saw Rabbi Jacob pulling at his vestments, tearing them open and furiously shouting, “Blasphemer!”
The men within the synagogue leaped to their feet and swung balled fists in the air as they surged forward to encircle Yeshua who had already started toward the door.
Pausing long enough to slip his sandals on, Yeshua calmly walked out of the synagogue into the bright sunlight with the incensed crowd swarmed about him. Hanan followed, pushing forward through the people to be near his friend.
“Stone him... Take him to the cliffs and cast him over... Blasphemer!” came the irate cries of the townspeople.
But by the time the mob reached the street, everyone brusquely halted. Their shouts fell away to a stunned silence as they glanced about themselves. Yeshua disappeared before their eyes as they threatened him.
Hanan stopped. He’d been looking at his friend in the middle of the mob when the man vanished. Stepping away from the hushed crowd, shocked by the sudden disappearance, Hanan let his gaze drift to the road leading out of town.
In the distance Yeshua stood looking back at the townspeople for several seconds before turning and starting north along the road to the fishing town of Galilee.
Chapter Eleven
27 A.D.
The Jordan River
In the wilderness of Judea at Tel el-Kharrar, the Hill of Elijah, five miles upstream from the Dead Sea, a lone man stood waist deep in a natural pool of the narrow river with arms held high and wide, and his bearded face cast back to gaze at the sun-bathed sky. His Aramaic name was Yokhanan, yet thousands knew him as the prophet, ‘the voice of one crying out in the wilderness’—John the Baptizer.
Thick, untamed hair hung from his head down onto his shoulders. His beard grew bushy and equally unruly from neither being cut or trimmed in years. A long, camel hide cloak draped from his left shoulder down his chest and back, belted only with a strip of leather to hold it in place. He was of average height, slender framed, and from his daily existence on the leaves of locust trees and wild honey, he kept an emaciated appearance. But it was the passion raging in his lustrous black eyes and his deep, resounding voice that were so hypnotic to all in his presence.
John lowered his arms and let the river gently flow against the palms of his hands. His eyes swept the masses standing along the western bank and up the rising landscape. Many of the people had divided into separate groups, intentionally avoiding others because of their political or religious affiliations. Curious onlookers strolled the river banks, pausing to listen before renewing their walks. Sanhedrin temple priests with their soldier escorts stood near leaders of the Sadducee sect; a Roman patrol watched from horseback; Pharisees sat on the side of a hill, keeping their distance from the Sadducees, and a line of devout believers waiting to be baptized stretched from the river and back over the hill.
***
Halting atop the hill, Hanan gazed at the people spread about him and down to the water’s edge. He studied everyone’s clothes and easily spotted the Sadducees in their expensive robes, cloaks and finest headdresses. Of the six he counted one was Eleazar ben Makim, the man Hanan had tracked from Jerusalem. The Sadducees, among their other activities, regulated relations Jews had with the Gentiles, and it was Eleazar who had given approval to the sons of Annas, a former high priest, to establish the money-changers market within the temple. From their collection of administrative fees, Eleazar received his portion, and for this corruption and others, Hanan marked him as a Sicarii target.
Hanan stood assessing the gatherings of people, the manner in which they clumped together leaving wide, open gaps between the groups. No, there’s not enough of a crowd to conceal me if I strike and attempt an escape, he thought. He glanced to his far left and saw the mounted Roman legionnaires. Their horses would be upon me before I could reach the thickets of brush, reeds, trees and hermit caves further upstream. His gaze rose to the afternoon sun. His death can wait until tonight when they make camp.
With a final look at the Sadducees, Hanan walked down the hill, wandering between the people as they anxiously listened to the wild man who preached from the water. Except for his muscled body, Hanan’s tattered, cream-colored tunic, robe, and keffiyeh of a herdsman, allowed him to blend with most of the onlookers and believers present. The closer he drew to the river, the better he could hear the angry prophet’s words.
“You brood of vipers!” the baptizer shouted, pointing to the Sadducees and Pharisees along the hillside. “Are you fleeing from the wrath that is to come by seeking repentance in the water? You are no better than Herod Antipas, a wicked and egotistical ruler who violates the law and revels in sin. He divorced his wife and married his brother’s wife, Herodias, while the man still lives. Antipas makes a harlot of her and openly lusts after his niece, Salome, before the eyes of our God, Elohim.”
Hanan had heard of John. Only a handful of people from Judea had not. He had immersed hundreds, if not thousands in the river, and more still came. No words were spared against anyone he believed had desecrated the Laws of Moses and the Word of Elohim. But the surprise of all came when Yeshua had told Hanan that the voice in the wilderness was his kinsman, related by some lineage through their mothers, Miriam and Elizabeth. Zachariah, John’s father, was a former high priest of the temple in Jerusalem, chosen and placed into the authoritative position by the Sadducees, the very group John had accused of being a brood of vipers. Yet it was Herod Antipas who the baptizer berated most for his immoralities with Herodias and her daughter Salome.
Glancing at the Sadducees, Hanan saw them cringe and whisper among themselves at John’s accusations. But the sight of a slender framed man walking toward the river, dressed in ragged sandals, a one-piece tunic, himatia robe, with a linen prayer shawl over his head, made Hanan pause. He’d seen that slow, strolling walk many times. As the man drew close to the water, he stopped, slid the shawl from his head and calmly gazed at the baptizer. Drawing a sharp breath, Hanan recognized Yeshua.
***
“I am not the promised Messiah, nor am I the reincarnated Elijah,” John shouted. His gaze swept the crowds across the hillside. “But I am the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy, the voice of preparation for the arrival of our God, Elohim, in the flesh. I am unworthy to carry his sandals or even unloose their thongs. The Anointed One to come is the lamb of Elohim who will take away the sins of the world. Repent, for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand!”
John drew silent as he stared at the man slowly walking out into the water. Brow drawn down hard, John the Baptist kept watch until the man stopped less than an arm’s length from
him. Realizing who he was looking at, John’s eyes widened, his mouth gradually opened, and he knelt before Yeshua in the water. But Yeshua warmly smiled, grabbed his kinsman by the shoulders and pulled him up to stand.
“You—You are him... The son of our God, Elohim. Are you here to baptize me?”
Yeshua slowly shook his head. “No, you are to baptize me. The prophecies must be fulfilled as my Father wants.”
Hanan moved through the people to better hear what the wild-looking man and Yeshua were saying to one another. Confusion wracked his mind at listening to John name Yeshua ‘the Son of our God, Elohim.’ A part of Hanan had always believed it was so yet hearing the Baptist confirm it sent the assassin’s soul further into a maelstrom.
John the baptizer wept as a smile formed on his lips. He stepped to Yeshua’s left side, placed his right hand at the base of the Anointed One’s neck, prayed, and leaned him back into the water until he was fully immersed. Raising Yeshua from the river, John cried out to the masses.
“Behold the Lamb of our God, Elohim!”
The fluttering of wings forced Hanan from his dumbfounded state. He looked up and observed a white dove flying over the two men in the water. Yeshua stood with droplets of river water trailing down from his hair, onto his face and drenched tunic. A ray of sunshine painted the river where the men stood, and a voice came, not to Hanan’s ears but as if it echoed through his mind:
“This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”
***
Abaddon had heard the voice as well and glanced skyward with a scowl. From behind the Sadducees, the demon shook his head and released a low growl of fury as he gazed at Yeshua and the Baptist. He edged closer to Eleazar ben Makim’s shoulder and whispered in the Sadducee’s right ear.
“You came for proof and now you have it. Blasphemers, both. You must tell the others that the time has come for their deaths. Those two are too dangerous to the temple to be allowed to live and spread such sacrilege. Listen to how they incite the people to rebel against you, the temple, and even Roman authority. Send word to Herodias how the Baptist ridicules her and calls her a harlot. She’ll demand his imprisonment.”
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