The Hidden Flame (32 page)

Though he had not intended for his words to be heard further than Gamaliel's ear, the men closest to them began muttering their angry agreement.

Gamaliel gripped Ezra's arm and pulled him forward. They crossed the empty space and came to the rear of the gathered throng, straining to hear what the men upon the porch's top step were saying.

Gamaliel said, "Try and look beyond your loss, old friend. For all our sakes, I beg you to see what is happening. We, the religious Judeans of our oppressed nation, need to stand united more than ever before. We are beset by dangers on all sides. The Zealots, the Romans, the Hasmoneans-they threaten to crush us utterly. If ever there was a time when our nation needed a messiah, it is now."

"You can't possibly be suggesting-"

Gamaliel halted him by pushing in so tight Ezra felt the man's beard brush his ear. "I beg you to stop your arguing and listen. The prophets speak of this time, when the Chosen One of God will cleave us apart, separating the believers from those who will be cast into the outer darkness. Have you ever in all your days seen a time when the division has been clearer? Have you ever known a time when miracles rained down from an empty sky, when the prophets' words were so clearly being fulfilled?"

Ezra felt the man's grip on his arm. "But the teacher they follow is dead."

"Is he? Are you so certain of that?" Gamaliel's eyes carried a piercing quality. "Have you bothered to hear what they are saying? They spoke their news again yesterday, standing before the group that had threatened them with death. They follow a messiah who departed so that the Spirit of God could breathe upon them all, a messiah who lives within."

Ezra shook his arm free and took a step away. "I cannot believe what I am hearing. You, of all people."

Gamaliel made as to reach again for his friend, then stopped, gripping only air. "I beg you, think upon what I am saying. For your own sake. For the sake of our nation. What if they are right?"

The man's desperate entreaty stretched his features into lines of genuine agony. Ezra had never seen his friend in such turmoil. For a single moment, Ezra felt as though the Temple courts were filled with an otherworldly wind, one so powerful it punched through his skin and his muscles and his bones, causing his very soul to shiver.

Then he caught sight of the crowd on the other side. If anything, their rage burned more fiercely still. Ezra felt it reach out and rekindle the wrath in his own heart. The world settled back into place. The summer heat drenched him.

Ezra walked back across the empty divide. They did not so much make room as enfold him. He caught one final glimpse of Gamaliel standing at the border of the other group, staring at the flagstone floor, his features caught in confusion and sorrow.

Then the crowd drew Ezra away.

Abigail glanced up from drawing water and saw the familiar figure in desert garb. "Alban, how wonderful! I thought-"

"I really can't stay long." He carefully scanned the courtyard before easing himself down on the well's stone wall. "I actually shouldn't have taken the time. My duties are elsewhere."

"Surely you can spare a few moments for something to eat."

"I have not eaten since before dawn. That does sound most appealing."

"I will run," promised Abigail.

Alban's chuckle surprised her. "Walk, please. I will not disappear that quickly."

She was soon back, carrying a cup with fresh well water and a plate of Martha's flat bread wrapped around goat cheese and spring onions.

"Now," she said as she placed the food on a nearby table, "come and eat, please. What brings you here in the middle of a working day?"

"Jacob."

Her heart leapt. "You have found him?"

"He is with Linux." Alban took a bite and followed it with a long draught of the cool water. "It appears he wishes to stay there."

Abigail's spirits sank as fast as they had soared. "I do not like the sound of this."

He nodded. "It concerns me also. Not only over his choice of companion, but also over his safety."

"What are we to do?"

He shifted on the bench, chewing thoughtfully. "There is more, Abigail. I worry about you as well. There are rumors everywhere. The caravan masters tell tales over the campfires. People whisper from house to house. The Sanhedrin grows increasingly irate over how the followers continue to daily grow in numbers. Even the Romans fear the pot could soon boil over."

But Abigail's mind was fastened on her brother. "There must be something you can say to Jacob-"

Alban interrupted, "You also must come with me to Galilee. You can help Leah care for the new baby."

Abigail looked upon her friend and guardian with a little smile. "Have you already forgotten, Alban? I am betrothed."

"Stephen can come for you when he is ready. This likely will settle soon, and it will be safe for your return. Or Stephen too can come with us now. There is much work-"

"Stephen already has his responsibilities here. He cares for the distribution to the most distressed among us. He speaks at the Freedmen's Synagogue. Oh, I wish you could hear him, Alban. The people love him, and he loves them. He wouldn't be able to leave, I know. His place is here. His calling is here. And now my calling is to serve with him."

Though clearly still very concerned, all Alban said was, "You sound very sure of your way forward."

"I have prayed long and hard, Alban. I too have heard the rumors swirling about. I know the situation is uncertain, but God remains the God of power. I belong here with Stephen. Where could we be more safe than where God has placed us?"

Alban reached forward, then dropped his arms. "My dear Abigail, I wish you could hear the beauty in your words."

"If there is anything in what I say, it is only what God has instilled in me."

"I will tell Leah." Alban rose to his feet. "She of course will be disappointed, but she will also understand."

Abigail stood as well. "What are we to do about Jacob?"

"Have you seen him at all since-?"

"No. I heard from the master carpenter that he returned to work one morning, then vanished again. He has not been back to our quarters. I am very concerned." She hesitated, then confessed, "There is an ongoing battle in my soul. Why is it so easy to trust God in some things, and yet ... I fear I keep reclaiming my burden for Jacob."

"God has not forgotten him," Alban assured her. "Continue to pray. It may take a while, but I am certain the divine answer will arrive. Along with Jacob."

That evening Abigail was preparing to depart for the little place she called home when Stephen stepped out of the shadows.

"I worry about you going out in the darkness, Abigail. It isn't good that you travel alone. Especially now-"

"I walk most of the way with others. It is only in the last alley that I am alone."

"I am thinking I will speak with Peter and see if you can have a room here above the storage bins."

"Oh please, Stephen. There is no cause for concern."

"But I worry." Indeed, his voice and concerned expression told her more than his words.

"And I am deeply grateful. But I truly would like to stay where I am for the time being."

"Promise me you will walk with the others, and maybe there are a few who would walk even that alley with you. I will ask among the believers." She attempted further protest, but he raised a silencing hand. "Do be careful. I would not wish to lose you," he said, now with a twinkle in his eye, "before I have even claimed you."

She smiled, then turned serious. "Remember our Lord, Stephen. The same one who led our leaders out of prison is the God who walks with me every night."

He smiled too. A very tender smile. "Of course. May God go with you."

C H A P T E R

TWENTY-EIGHT

LINUX AND JACOB CLIMBED THE ROAD out of the city, skirting the Mount of Olives. The people headed in the same direction made for jovial companions. The opposite side of the road told a different story. The Judeans straggling into Jerusalem mostly came from the surrounding villages, many of them extremely poor. Also, a vast number of those headed into the city looked unwell. The worst were transported on donkey carts or pallets swinging between poles resting on strong shoulders. After climbing each rise and seeing the city walls appearing once again in the distance, the pilgrims' renewed hope seemed to wash over even the neediest ones.

Those headed away did their best to ignore the impoverished Judeans. Everyone on the road walking with Linux was either Roman or allied to the rulers of Judea. They were on their way to the amphitheater built for just such occasions. Judea's new governor had declared this a day of celebration.

The walls of Jerusalem and the gleaming Temple roof finally were blocked from view when they rounded the Mount of Olives. Soon after, they turned onto a paved road heading north. From that point on, the day belonged to those who swore allegiance to Rome. It was a relief to no longer share the road with the maimed and the sick. For a few brief hours they could ignore the city behind them and a people seething with resentment. Rome ruled over a hundred different tribes and races. Yet none had continued to chafe so long under Roman dominion as the Judeans.

It was at this point Linux realized something was bothering him. He stepped off the road and turned around.

Jacob looked at him with questions in his eyes.

"A moment." Linux bounded up a steep rise to where he could see the two roads intersecting. Further in the distance was the road from Caesarea. All held a constant stream of the sick and poor and distressed.

Jacob had followed and now stood beside him. "What are you looking at, sire?"

Linux did not respond. His attention was held by the sea of humanity streaming into the city. He recalled how Peter had walked the avenue to the Temple. As his shadow had fallen on those sprawled along the east wall, they leapt up from their beds of affliction and praised their Judean God.

"S ire?"

Linux glanced at the youth by his side. Jacob stood in his shadow, his face showing his bafflement. Linux felt his gut wrench with a vision of what awaited them at the road's end. What influence am I having upon Jacob? Instead of his shadow bringing health and life and joy, the young man who trusted him was being led toward ...

"Enough," Linux muttered to himself. "We go."

The road to the amphitheater recently had been brushed clear of the worst signs of its neglect. Even so, it was clear to Linux the lane had not been used in a very long time. Pontius Pilate had been contemptuous of provincial games. He had also loathed Jerusalem. The arena road had seen little use in nine long years. Between it and the city sprawled one of three camps used by Judean returning for the festival seasons. Today the camp was empty save for stones used as border markers and the burn marks of old campfires. The road served as a natural boundary, for no observant Judean would dream of coming a step closer than necessary to the arena and the blood sports it represented.

The new prelate had brought with him a Roman's lust for blood upon the arena sands. He had proclaimed a three-day festival of games and frivolity to celebrate the new emperor.