“Daniel, how do you know this, about the Romans coming to these shores? Who told you?”
“No one. I…had a vision.”
Father in heaven would never send a vision like that to anyone but me.
Jesus looked his cousin over.
Someone must have told him, but if not Bridget or my Father, who?
Jesus looked deep into his cousin’s eyes.
The answer that came to him was horrible, but it explained everything. “Satan has taken you.” Jesus said, speaking deliberately and cautiously. “You have fallen into his traps of sin and death! If you do not turn from the Devil, then I cannot help you.”
Daniel laughed insanely.
“Let the Devil take you,” said Jesus, “and let the Belgae king come for you and kill you. I will not form a league with the Fallen One. I cannot help you if you do not turn to God. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. You do not have much time.”
Down in hell, the Fallen One paused from his feasting on the souls of the unredeemed to dance a triumphant jig.
The keys of heaven are practically mine! I never imagined Jesus would abandon his cousin so quickly. He sees the corruption that lies in Daniel’s heart. Surely he will realize soon the futility of trying to save these mortals.
By the time Jesus returned to Mary’s house, Bridget had regained her composure. She was eating soup Mary had prepared.
Bridget saw Mary looking at her questioningly. Then she realized what concerned her. “It’s all right,” said Bridget. “Jesus is not like Daniel. He will not harm me. You can leave me with him.”
Mary took the hint and left, saying she had something to do outside in the herb garden.
Jesus filled his own bowl at the hearth. “May I sit at the table with you?”
“Certainly.” Bridget listlessly stirred the soup. “It’s strange you feel the need to ask.”
“I cannot imagine how violated you must feel. I would not blame you for wanting to be alone right now…or at least away from any man. I am sorry about Daniel. He has never done anything like this before.”
“I know that you, your mother, and your uncle would have stopped it if you had known.”
He actually cares about my feelings! For my father, this will be about the insult to the family pride. I am the one who was almost raped, but my father will feel that he is the one who was victimized because of the insult to his honor. But Jesus is not like any Celt; he understands how a woman feels.
“You are good people,” she continued. “You have all been so kind to me.”
“You are the one who has been good to me,” said Jesus. “You fed me and took care of me when I was sick. My mother says she could barely have managed without you.”
“It was nothing. I was here on a diplomatic mission for my father, anyway.”
“Elsigar tells me that mission has been over for many months. With thanks in good measure to you, I am well and walking about. I have not needed nursing for weeks. And yet you remain.”
“I do not want to leave. As I said, you are all good people—”
“Bridget, do you know what it means to really love someone?”
Is he going to declare his love for me? Please, I beg the gods, please let it be so!
Outwardly, Bridget just sighed and looked confused. “What does it mean to you?”
“I think it means that you care for someone more than you care for yourself. Like the love between a mother and child.”
Bridget looked into Jesus’s eyes.
He is so gentle and caring. No one has ever talked to me like this.
“I care for you deeply, Bridget. I owe you so much. But Bridget, I know what you want from me, and I cannot give you what you seek.”
Bridget looked at him in shock, and then she had an idea. “Are you worried about marrying a gentile? I asked Mary whether someone could become Jewish, and she said it was rare, but it could be done. Later, I asked her about where one could find a rabbi, and she said that there were rabbis in Gaul. That’s what I would need to do, find a rabbi to study with, right?”
“It would take you a year at least—”
“I will do it, whatever it takes.”
“No, Bridget, you dear sweet woman. Marrying you as a gentile is the least of the problems—”
“Why, Jesus, why? You just said you cared about me deeply. I see that you do, more than any man I have known.”
“I care deeply about you, but you know I am not like other men. A man and woman who join themselves in marriage become one flesh, but I share the nature of my divine Father. I cannot join my flesh to the flesh of any mortal woman and make it one; it would be unnatural for me. I will always be grateful to you, but I cannot give you the romantic love you deserve.”
“What are you going to do about the destiny your father has carved out for you? Are you going to submit to crucifixion? What about adopting the Britons as your people?”
Jesus shook his head. “I do not know. I think of Daniel, and it all feels so hopeless. I see this man, my cousin, whom I have loved as a brother. I see how weak and wicked he has become, and I do not know him anymore. It makes me think that giving myself up to the cross will be for nothing, that no one will remember me a few days after I am gone.
“Then I think about the good life I could have,” Jesus continued. “I am skilled with the sword, and I want to use it for justice. I want people to be free, regardless of whether they are Britons or Jews. I could go back to Israel and be the Messiah for my people, just as I always imagined…as the new King David, fighting to free my people from Roman oppression. Or I could stay here and adopt the Britons as my own people, and I could fight to preserve their freedom, just as you said. The path
is
mine to choose.”
“Why not do that? Fight for the Jews or fight for the Britons. You will win and become the hero of the people, either here or in Judea and Galilee. Give us freedom.”
“I think about that all the time now, but my Father said something else that night on the Tor. He said that by giving myself up to the cross, I would bring the hope of salvation to the world. He did not say how, and it sounds crazy to me, but it makes me wonder about the easier path, about fulfilling my birthright as the son of David. I think I can free people from Roman oppression, but then I ask myself who will free the people—the Jews or the Celts—from the wages of death and sin. I do not know right now what I must do.”
The two of them sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes.
“Bridget, I think I was just too blind to see this, but there is nothing for you here now. I cannot offer what you seek from me. The time has come for you to go. You must return to your own people.”
Bridget looked into Jesus’s eyes. “I suppose you are right, but let me ask you for something. It will make my heart easier when I think about the future of the Britons.”
“What is it?” Jesus asked.
“If you decide to obey your father, will you send to Britain word of how we can find salvation from death and sin through your sacrifice? Will you promise me this?”
“Oh, Bridget, of course I promise. I will never forget the kindness of the Britons. I make this solemn pledge: if I am unable to come myself, I will send a messenger to you.”
Satan gnashed his teeth. He had not expected Jesus to concern himself so much with Bridget.
She will leave him, at least for now, but what if she returns? What if Jesus sees hope for these miserable mortal creatures through her?
The Devil knew he had to do something more than he had with Daniel. There must be another mortal who could be turned to death and sin—someone who could expose all the wickedness of the human spirit to Jesus and make him realize the hopelessness of trying to save them from themselves.
The Fallen One looked over the Levels and beyond, and he saw another mortal who would serve perfectly. He almost danced another jig of celebration. A runaway slave who had taken up brigandry. Even better, the slave-turned-brigand already bore hatred for Jesus. Satan had set his gaze on Pirro.
“I
did not come all this way to Ynys Witrin to raid a few farm houses,” shouted Pirro, stomping his foot. “I seek a bigger prize.” He looked over his motley band of a dozen brigands. “We must wait and watch for our chance. My old master and his family have silver, enough to make us all rich, but they will guard it even more closely if they suspect robbers are about. I do not care if this house is unguarded. The people are poor, and we must leave it be—for now.”
Reinventing myself has been easier than I ever thought possible. Yes, they snarl at me when I tell them to leave the farmhouses alone, but they will follow me anywhere. That is not too bad for a man who’s been a trader in Celtic junk and then a slave, eh?
The hunchback with five missing teeth shook his head. “It would be better to sack the farmhouses. We could spend weeks waiting for something better, and all that time we run the risk of capture.” He scratched his shaggy gray hair. “Besides, if Jesus bar whatsit and his lot have all that silver, then surely they’ll conceal and protect it.”
“Jesus and his family do not care,” said Pirro. “I saw Jesus work his magic digging for tin, and it is easy for him to find the lodes of ore. They do not think to guard their hoards because they are so easy to replace.”
The hunchback makes a good point, but it does not matter. I would have made myself rich during the battle at Rumps, but Jesus foiled me. He dared to pass judgment on me and condemn me to suffer. I will have my revenge. These men need not know that I care nothing about the silver—or about them, for that matter.
“I tell you,” he said, “Jesus has more silver stashed away than you can possibly imagine. Score this one robbery with me, and you will have more than enough to live at ease for the rest of your lives.”
Pirro’s words failed to silence the hunchback, and a few of his cohorts started to look as if he was beginning to persuade them.
The man is tiresome, and he is not much use in a fight anyway.
Pirro drew his sword, and with one swift stroke he cleaved the hunchback’s head from his broken torso. He looked over his followers. “Does anyone else have a question about what we’re doing?”
The druids gathered once again for the festival of Beltane, to call Mother Earth back to life. At first, Daniel stayed at the edge of the crowd, covering his head with his cloak so no one would recognize him. Only two days had passed since his failed attempt to make Bridget his. If he were recognized, all would shun him, or worse.
He searched the crowd for Bridget. Surely she would be at this important festival, but she was not among her people. Then he spotted her, sitting with Jesus, the two of them off by themselves. Daniel concealed himself behind a bush to eavesdrop.
“Have you decided what you will do?” Bridget asked.
“Elsigar tried to convince me to become a druid,” Jesus said with a rueful smile. “When I told him what my Father in heaven wants of me, he said our one god was far too demanding. Maybe Elsigar has a point.”
Bridget laughed softly. “That’s the first time I have ever seen you smile.”
“It is another path open to me, I suppose, though I do not think I am ready to give myself over to paganism.”
“If you really believe your Father is the creator of the universe, then maybe you should trust him and go back to your homeland. This sacrifice he asks of you: doesn’t he say it will be the key to the hope of salvation for the whole world?”
“Is that what you believe now, Bridget?”
“If I did not believe it, and if I did not believe that you share his divine substance, I would never leave you. I do not know why I believe it, but I do.”
“Maybe the Holy Spirit is doing a good work in you, but if you believe, then you must obey the commandments. You cannot worship pagan gods.”
“Mary taught me what the law of Moses says about that. It will be hard on my father.” She hung her head and sighed. “I do not think my people will ever accept me as their queen if I abandon the druidic gods. If this sacrifice of yours can be the hope of salvation for all nations, not just the Jews, then we must put that ahead of our own hopes for happiness.”
“I do not know if I can, Bridget. Ever since I was a small child, I have thought I would follow the path of my ancestor King David to secure my people’s freedom. I thought that was my role as the Messiah. That is what made me love it here in Britain, to see your people so free. I love the idea that people should live free. My Father wants me to give that up, not only for myself, but also to know the death and destruction that awaits my people and yours. If I follow my Father’s bidding, I head to the most painful and shameful death imaginable. If I die that way, I die not knowing if anyone but my mother and my great uncle will care anything about me even a week after. I will die doubting my own sanity.”
“Let’s not think about that now.” She gripped his arm. “Do not forget the promise you made to me. I have almost finished packing, and my retinue will be here tomorrow to take me home.”
He covered her hand with his. “I will never forget, Bridget. I say that not just for your sake, but out of love for all the Britons. If I go back and give myself over to death, I will see to it that word gets back to the people here: how they can claim that sacrifice to free themselves from death and sin.”
Daniel gnashed his teeth as he watched Jesus hold Bridget’s hand.
If she will not worship the druidic gods, it is death for her to go back to her people—but Jesus does not care! He wants her for himself. Just look at how he clings to her. I must save her from this madness. Then she will understand that her future lies with me.
Pirro’s brigands, sent to spy on the Beltane festivities, returned late that night with a cloaked man bound and gagged. They shoved him to the ground at Pirro’s feet. “The dark-bearded outlander,” the tall one growled. “We saw him leave by himself once the festival ended.”
A smoldering fire provided some warmth in the cool air, but Pirro made sure that his men kept the fire small so as not to draw attention.