 
WHAT OTHERS ARE SAYING

ABOUT "OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM, A NOVEL OF BIBLICAL TIMES" BY JAMES M. BECHER

Beneath every human being's virtues and foibles, a singular hunger lies waiting for a revelation which will create a powerful direction that supersedes all other human goals. James M. Becher takes the reader back to the lifetime of Jesus Christ, into the homes, conversations, and deeds of ordinary and extraordinary individuals who were so deeply affected by the birth of this man.... Read this book to discover the fictional yet all too probable, and powerful, effect of one man sent to speak to the heart of every human being within this novel and those who read it. Very nicely written, J. M. Becher!

\------Viviane Crystal (www.crystalreviews.com)

Of Such Is The Kingdom is a fictional novel based on Biblical truths. James M. Becher has artfully taken the events surrounding Jesus' time here on earth and told what could have been from each character's perspective... Mr. Becher takes you through a wide range of emotions from beginning to end.... This is a great novel that I'm sure you will enjoy!

\------Rudelle Thomas in the January issue of Divine Eloquence: (http://destinyministries.ning.com/)

### OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM, PART I, DISCONTENT AND INSURRECTION,

### A Novel of the Christ & the Roman Empire

OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM, A Novel of Biblical Times, Volume 1

### James M. Becher

Published by James M. Becher, 2018.

Copyright © 2003 by James M. Becher

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

3rd printing

Smashwords license notes:

This e book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this e-book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this e-book and you have not purchased it or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

This is a work of historical fiction. Names places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

### TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM, PART I, DISCONTENT AND INSURRECTION, A Novel of the Christ and the Roman Empire, 3rd edition (Of Such Is The Kingdom, A Novel of Biblical Times, #1)

OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM, PART I

CHAPTER 1: | THE CHALLENGE

CHAPTER 2: | INTERLUDE AT THE INN

CHAPTER 3: | ANSWERS AND QUESTIONS

CHAPTER 4: | VISION AND ACTION

CHAPTER 5: NON-CONFORMITY AND ROMANCE

CHAPTER 6: | ANOTHER SEEKER

CHAPTER 7: | THE PLAN

CHAPTER 8: | THE ASSIGNMENT

CHAPTER 9: | TO LOVE AGAIN-?

CHAPTER 10: THE GANG

CHAPTER 11: REPENTANCE-?

CHAPTER 12: | FLESH AND SPIRIT

CHAPTER 13: PLANS

CHAPTER 14: MESSIAH-?

CHAPTER 15: | BLACKMAIL OR BIGAMY?

CHAPTER 16: JOHN

CHAPTER 17: | —AND MORE PLANS

CHAPTER 18: | THE OUTRAGE

CHAPTER 19: | THE QUESTION

CHAPTER 20: THE ANSWER

CHAPTER 21: | THE UNFORGETTABLE PARTY

CHAPTER 22: THE ORDER

CHAPTER 23: | THE INSURRECTION

LOOK FOR THE SEQUEL: "OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM. PART II: Robery And Redemption, A Novel of the Christ and the Roman Empire" | By James M. Becher

About the Author

DEDICATION AND A Related DREAM:

I dedicate this novel to my dear wife, Berenice who has helped me and stood by me all the way. When she was young she had a dream which related to the title. She dreamed she was in a waiting room to heaven and there were a lot people on one side who were tired and sweating from having worked hard. On the other side were a group of children. An Angel came and started taking the children to heaven one by one. My wife asked the angel why he didn't take the hard working adults. The angel replied that she was too young to understand this now. When I told my wife the Title of the novel she suddenly understood the meaning of the dream. If it's not clear to you at this point it probably will be by the time you finish the novel.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank the following people whom the LORD God used to help make this possible:

(1) Sean Gallagan who, when I was first starting to write the book and tried to buy a computer, but couldn't afford one and didn't have any credit established, after refusing, later brought a computer to my house and said that the LORD told him to give it to me.

(2) Ray Wilkinson, who first stressed the necessity of revision and helped with some suggestions for the same.

(3) George Lutkitz who first suggested expanding the first edition

(4) In Venezuela, (on our recent visit): In Caracas, our niece and husband, Carmen and Vicente Fernandez, and in Cuidad Piar, Bolivar State, Aunt Omira de Carett and children, who helped me with email problems (getting the file from the publisher) and put up with me while I edited this edition there.

OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM

A NOVEL OF THE CHRIST AND THE ROMAN EMPIRE

PART I DISCONTENT AND INSURRECTION

PART I CHAPTER 1: THE CHALLENGE

Plant the right seed to get the right plant.

\----Anon

It had been a long, tiresome trip and a trying search. The city of Jerusalem was a teeming metropolis, alive with people from all walks of life. Surely here, he thought, he would find the type of man he was looking for. Surely, there was at least one man in Jerusalem with insight, drive, and motivation, who could be inspired and trained to lead a small insurrection.

First. he tried the cloth shop owner, a short stocky old man with a withered look about him, whose name, according to the sign in the window, was Benjamin. He first tried to sell the owner some goods, as that was his main line of work. But the old miser had already stocked up for the next three or four months. So he made a note to check back. As he wrote, he began talking about the evils of the Romans, and their high taxation. Benjamin never flexed a muscle. "Doesn't bother me any," he said. "I'm rich enough to retire. I only keep this shop going for something to do."

He could see that he would get nowhere with this fellow. So he left politely and thought he would try the other end of the spectrum. As his black and white chariot passed along the dusty streets of Jerusalem, he caught sight of a beggar, sitting by the side of the road. Perhaps this was his man. He stopped the chariot and spoke with the mendicant, who was obviously surprised to see a gentleman of his appearance stop and converse with the likes of himself. As he continued the conversation, he could see that the beggar, who was short of stature and somewhat elderly, was obviously both uninformed and apathetic about the political situation and how it affected his daily life. The beggar stared blankly at his visitor, obviously puzzled by the whole incident. He was also obviously offended when the man started to leave without giving him any money. The stranger apologized, and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out a handful of small change and dropped it into the beggar's cup.

_So,_ the stranger thought to himself as he rode along in his unique looking chariot _, it's not to be the rich shopkeeper, nor the poor beggar. Both are completely apathetic to the situation, the first due to his money, and the second because of his ignorance._ No, the type of person he was looking for was obviously somewhere between the two--perhaps, that brawny blacksmith, whose huge frame caught his eye as he rode slowly by the large shop window. The sign hanging in one corner of the window read: "BARABBAS' BLACKSMITH SHOP. FINE IRON WORK AS WELL AS HORSES SHOD." He could see right away that this was a hard-working man. Certainly, he was not rich like Benjamin. Neither did he look to be as ignorant as the beggar was. Yes, this must be his man. He'd give it a try.

*************

Beads of sweat poured from Barabbas' forehead, as the crackling sparks flew upward, some of them hitting and bouncing off of his rough, black leather apron like so many flitting fireflies. As he finished the horseshoe, he hung it up to cool. He wiped his face with his huge white handkerchief and sighed deeply. The day had been long, and he was hot and tired – tired of standing over the scorching fire all day, making wheel hoops and horseshoes. He'd had few calls that week for the fancy plates and shields he so liked to make. If only he were rich like that cloth shop owner who had stopped by a few days ago to get his horses shod. When Barabbas had asked him how his business was, he'd replied, "Not too good right now, but I don't care. I only keep my shop open for something to do." _If I had this man's money_ , he thought, _then, I could make what I wanted to, or not work at all if I didn't feel like it._

Perhaps, he should try raising his prices and cutting corners. He did want his family to enjoy the best. But, it was the Romans who really bothered him. They'd take every shekel you made in taxes if they could. And what do they do with it all? Gorge themselves, that's what. The community could certainly stand some improvements. But no! They don't care for the people. They'd kill you if they got a chance, just like they did his grandfather. After he'd given them his best efforts, they'd turned on him and crucified him, along with the rest of the Spartan captives. He would despise them forever for that. _They're all tyrants,_ he thought, _and murderers at heart! And the local rulers aren't any better! There's that putrid puppet, Pilate, always bowing and scraping to that Cyclops, Caesar, and his hired helper, Herod! Everyone knows they add to the taxes they're required by Rome to collect in order to fill their own coffers. Laws are passed for their political expediency rather than for the good they might do. And then there are those Roman soldiers, always parading up and down. They've even added a tax of their own, supposedly for their upkeep. Yes, things are truly in a terrible state!_

All these thoughts were running wildly through his mind that afternoon, when the door opened and in walked one of them – a Roman soldier in the flesh. He cringed. The unwelcome visitor inquired about the sword hanging on the back wall, but when told the price, declined to buy it, saying, "I'll wait until the next increase in the soldier's tax. There is another half-shekel raise scheduled, you know." – As if it wasn't high enough already! The smith nodded patronizingly, though all the while something inside of him wanted to take the down sword and thrust it into the soldier's back as he turned to leave. But, he thought better of his compulsion and reached for another horseshoe instead. As he carried the horseshoe to the hearth, he made every effort to present a calm exterior.

In a moment, the soldier was gone. But, his exit was followed by the entrance of another figure who was very strange looking. He wore a pitch-black tunic with a wide white belt and a black hat with a white ribbon. His stern face sported a big black mustache, but no beard. The mustache curved down and then up on the sides like one of those fancy door knockers Barabbas used to make. It connected nicely with his bushy black and white sideburns. He looked very strange indeed, and a bit frightening! He stood for a minute, looking the place over. Then, he smiled politely and motioned for the proprietor to come toward him.

"Yes, sir?" Barabbas said politely. "I'd have come quicker, only I was working with that horseshoe there, and was afraid to drop it. May I help you, sir?" He noticed that, despite the stranger's odd appearance, he still had the look of a Jew about him.

The stranger's penetrating eyes wandered over the profusion of fancy cups, plates, knives, shields and other objects displayed for sale and rested upon the large sword hanging on the back wall. "That sword there, of what does it consist?"

"Why, it's made of the finest iron available, sir. Nothin' but the finest."

"Well, how sharp might its edges be?"

"Why, sharp enough, sir. Sharp enough to split a rock, or pierce a wall, or--or--or---"

"Or," ventured the stranger, lowering his voice, "slit a Roman soldier's throat?"

"Yes! Or slit a Roman soldier's throat, confound 'em! Now I've gone and said it, haven't I? I've finally said what's been brooding inside of me. I suppose you're one of 'em in disguise, or one o' their spies. Well, arrest me, if you will, and have done with it. Our lives are without hope anyway under your wretched tyranny!"

The stranger smiled benignly. "Relax, my friend, relax. I'm Roman in citizenship only – by no means in sympathy. Despite my divergent appearance, do you not see the Jew in me? I was born a Jew, just like you. But, I was raised in a somewhat different environment. Having the chance, I determined to be my own man, to dress, talk, act and think as much as possible on my own, without any outside influence."

"Then, you are not a true Jew." Barabbas was still on the defensive. "A Jew follows the precepts of the fathers: the law, the prophets, and the Talmud."

"I believe in the basic spiritual truth behind these teachings. But, every man must be free to find the meaning of this truth for himself and to apply it to his own life as he sees fit. It is the spirit of these things that is important, not the letter. Look at you! Where has following the letter gotten you?"

Barabbas' mind was racing and he started to speak. "Uh---"

But the stranger raised a finger, smiled and continued: "Ah, but it did my heart good to hear you speak those treacherous words a moment ago. For, I, myself, feel the same way. Those Romans are truly tyrants and must be stopped!"

"Ah-ha!" The smith's face brightened. "So! You're not one of them! Ah! I'm safe! And I have someone with which to share my rebellious attitudes!"

"Indeed you do!" Exclaimed the stranger, who had been glancing toward the doorway every now and then to make sure no one entered.

He now leaned over the counter and spoke more softly and yet more emphatically, so as to ensure his listener's full attention. "And I'm certain there must be more who feel the same way about things as we do!"

Most likely. If only they would speak out!"

"And why do you think they do not?"

The smith's brow wrinkled. "I never thought much about that, but the only reason I can think of is fear. We're all afraid to say anything."

"Exactly! If only we could all find each other, as you and I have, and all band together----" The stranger's voice trailed off as he turned and glanced at the sundial outside the window. "I must be leaving now," he added, starting toward the door, "but, we shall meet again, my friend."

"What about the sword? Do you want to buy it?"

"Not at this time. Perhaps later. Shalom." He raised his hand in a parting gesture. That was all. The stranger left as suddenly as he came.

***********

_Yes,_ he mused to himself, as he untied his two sleek black and white horses _, certainly this blacksmith will do nicely._ He made a note of the shop's location. He then mounted his unique chariot (long and shiny, black and white.) He quickly grabbed the reins and in no time the chariot was on its way. He would go now and report his success. Later, he would return for another visit with this blacksmith, when the latter had a chance to think and become even more resolute.

************

As the mysterious stranger walked through the shop door and out into the dusty street, Barabbas began to think. He thought as he closed up shop and got ready to go home. He thought all the way up the street to his ordinary looking home. He thought, _Perhaps it would be possible. "If only we could all band together--." That was what the stranger had said, wasn't it? But, how? How could it happen? If only---_

Should he tell his wife, or not? She'd certainly be against the whole idea. She greatly resented the fact that her father had been brutally executed for plotting against the life of Herod, the great. She knows things are bad, but she'll just say, "We might as well grin 'n' bear it," or "We'll get along somehow." They had gotten along so far. But things were getting worse _. Who knows_ , he wondered, _if another insurrection might not succeed? If enough people could be gathered together to fight--- but that's a big "if"._

Well, too late now for any further mental deliberation. The 'little tigers' had spied him coming and were running out to meet him as usual. Big and boisterous, short and stocky, petite and ladylike, all three of them descended upon him at once, pulling and screaming.

"Shalom, Abba!"

"Daddy, you're home!"

"Peace, Daddy!"

"Peace yourselves, you little bunches o' joy!" He said, reaching out his big brawny arms to enfold them.

As they approached the doorstep, she appeared: a tall, thin, golden-haired vision of beauty. Her apron was still on, as she stepped decisively up to her huge husband, smiling radiantly. "Barabbas! You're home late today!"

"But not by much, Deborah dear. An important customer came in just as I was closing."

"Well, come here you big brute and let me feast my eyes upon y'!"

But it wasn't only their eyes that met. "Mmm, mmm!"

"Wow! Momma's kissin' Daddy!"

"Mmm!" As much as he enjoyed her kisses, his stomach told him it was time to think about supper. "Alright, alright! Enough of this for now! I'm tired 'n' starved half to death!"

"Supper'll be ready in just a minute, dear. Come on, sit down and wash your feet. Th' water's already poured."

"Can I help y', Daddy? Can I?"

"ken I?"

They tugged and pulled at him from all sides.

"I want t' help, Daddy."

"Now, Caleb, you helped me yesterday. It's Jason's turn."

Alright. Then, I'll get y'r slippers."

"I wanna get Daddy's slippers!"

"No! I asked first!"

"Now, you kids stop your bickerin'! I'll get my own confounded slippers!"

"I heard that, Barabbas! You know you shouldn't talk like that, especially in front o' th' children!"

"Now, Deborah! All I said was I'd get my own confoun---"

"But you didn't have t' say 'confounded'!"

"Oh, alright, then! I'll get my own slippers! Confound it!"

"Barabbas! When will you learn? Why, I'll bet you don't talk like that to your customers. Just because you're home, you think you can----"

"My foot, Deborah! You make such a fuss over one little word! Tend to th' supper! I'm starved!" The sound of Barabbas' heavy tread upon the bare floor was heard as he walked deliberately to the bedroom. Then there was a bang, as he flung the door open. Entering, he grabbed a pair of rough leather slippers and returned to his chair to sit for the washing of the feet by the eldest son, Jason.

When the feet were washed and dried, Jason slipped the sippers on his father's feet and turned to go.

"Hey, where do you think you're going'? Aren't you forgetting something? You know emptying th' pan is part of the job."

"Sorry, Daddy, I forgot." He picked up the pan and left.

Barabbas sat and waited. The joy of being home after a hard day's work had taken his mind away from the mysterious stranger and his exciting challenge. He was really hungry and the aroma of boiled mutton wafting through the room made it all the worse. What could be taking her so long in the kitchen? But just then, he heard again the patter of tiny feet.

"Daddy, supper's ready."

"Well, it's about time! I'm half starved to death!"

"Me too, Daddy!"

"Now, what could you have done to get so starved?" He asked, putting his arm around his little daughter as they walked toward the kitchen table.

"I helped Momma clean th' house."

"That's my girl! We'll have to see what can be done about that," he whispered.

As they took their seats, he perused the feast before him. "Ah, that beans 'n' mutton sure smells good!"

It was one of the best meals he'd had in a long while. After supper and the reading of the Torah, they got the children ready for bed. Then, they got ready for bed themselves. Thus, the night went by without Barabbas telling his wife about the stranger's strange visit. No need. He could discuss it with her tomorrow if she was in a better mood, or maybe next week, or next month, or maybe never.

Sleep was long in coming that night. What was it that the stranger had said? "If only we could all band together---." But, no! It was utterly impossible.

He glanced at his sweet wife, sleeping so peacefully at his side. What did she really know of all this anyway? It wasn't her grandfather whom they crucified for no reason. She didn't even keep up with all the raises in taxes. As long as they managed to get by she was happy. But, if things kept up, they might not be getting by for long. If only something could be done!

Then, his mind turned to the stories of the holy scripture: stories like that of Gideon, who defeated the whole Midianite army with only three hundred men; of Samson, who slew a thousand men with the jawbone of an ass; of Joshua and the walls of Jericho; and of Jehoshaphat, who defeated the enemy through song.

The next thing he knew, the golden rays of the morning sun came streaming through his window. He awakened with a curiously combined feeling of despair and hope.

PART I CHAPTER 2: INTERLUDE AT THE INN

Each age writes the history of the past anew with reference to the conditions uppermost in its own time.

\---Frederick Jackson Turner

Leaving the blacksmith shop, the strange-looking chariot sped recklessly through the city, almost hitting some of the people and animals that crowded along the roadside. Then it hurried onward, northwesterly over the rocky roads, which led toward the seacoast city of Tiberius. As dusk began turning to darkness, the driver caught sight of an inn, or 'caravansary,' a little way ahead. He gave the reins a jerk, and soon the chariot stood before the huge caravansary. The driver dismounted and led the horses up to the arched iron gate. Within seconds, the driver, horses, and chariot were standing inside a huge populated quadrangular courtyard.

The somewhat weak smell of human body odor gave way to the more pungent smell of animal life, drawing his attention to the stalls at the other side. Several men were struggling to get some mules into one of them. Having untied the horses from the chariot, he led them over to one of the stalls. Selecting a stall, he led them into it and closed the door.

"I wish it was that easy with these critters!" grunted one of the men who were pushing the mules.

"Here, let me help." The stranger added his efforts to theirs. It was a battle, but soon the mules were securely in the stall.

"Thanks a lot for your help."

The stranger shrugged. "Better to help than to hurt as some people do."

"True," agreed the man, puzzled at the abruptness of the stranger's reply.

As they began walking back toward the center of the courtyard, the speakers caught, for the first time, a real glimpse of each other's appearance. Despite the unsteadiness of the illumination from the flickering lamps along the walls, the stranger could see that these men, as well as the group toward which they were walking, were dressed in Roman tunics, but had beards like Jews. He knew what that meant. They were Herodians, a sect of Jews in favor of Herod's regime.

The other spoke first. Noticing the stranger's odd appearance, he asked, "Where are you from, sir, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

"I just came up from Jerusalem."

"I didn't mean that," the man retorted. "I meant originally. You look as if you are neither Jew nor Roman."

"And you, sir," rejoined the stranger, smiling cynically, "look as if you are both!"

"I am a Herodian."

"And I, a dissident, though a Jew by birth, and Roman by citizenship. And so, we were both wrong, weren't we?"

By now they had reached the group seated on the ground. After a few words of greeting, the stranger turned to go. But, one of the men in the group called out, "Ah, mister! Will you join us for evening prayers, sir?"

"I'm afraid I'm quite tired from my journey, and shall be quite satisfied to say my own prayers while falling off to sleep. Thanks anyway."

Another voice from the group blurted, "The LORD requires sincere attention to prayers."

"I'm sure the LORD will understand." The stranger turned to go, and then stopped. "But tell me, why do you stick to the Jewish form of worship, while acting and dressing like gentiles?"

"We are still Jews," said the second man.

"And," the first added, "we hold onto our beliefs in matters of religion, but in matters of dress and life---"

The stranger interrupted. "---you act like the gentiles. You've become a sickening mixture of Jew and gentile, just like the leader you support. He is neither Jewish nor Roman. Yet he tries to be both."

"Now, hold on here!" exclaimed the first man. "Are you trying to tell us that Herod is not Jewish?"

"I thought it was an accepted fact," added another voice, "that Herod is descended from a famous Jew."

The stranger chuckled. "A very effective rumor! It was started by Herod the great to gain the respect of naive Jews like you. No, Herod is really half Idumean and half Samaritan. The so-called 'royal family' is Idumean."

"You mean they descended from Esau, who sold his birthright to our father, Jacob?"

The stranger nodded.

The first man grimaced. "But those people have been our enemies for years – ever since they refused to let us pass through their land."

The stranger continued, acting as if he had not heard this last remark. "They had their own identity for a while, but they were defeated by John Hyrcanus about 150 years ago, and became practically Jewish, taking on many of the Jewish ways. They started taking on some Roman ways when the Romans handed them Judea some thirty years ago. So, you see, Herod is trying to be both, as you are, but, in reality, he is neither."

"Just how do you know all this?" asked the first man.

"I am a student of history, and of life, as well."

"And you have checked out all of this thoroughly?"

"Painstakingly."

"Well," said a skeptical-sounding voice from the group, "If you're so much a student of history, tell us: whatever happened to Herod's foster-brother, that Jewish lad who was adopted by Herod's father?"

"Yes," said the first man, "uh, what was his name? Manahius, or Manaheeam or something of that sort I believe."

"Something of that sort." The stranger straightened. "But, I'm afraid I can't help you there. The man seems to have disappeared, speaking of which, I really must do the same. Good night, gentlemen." He sauntered off to one of the rooms, and in seconds was asleep.

"Strange fellow, isn't he?" commented the first man.

"He couldn't stay for evening prayers," noted the second, "but he had time to tell u us all about Herod's history."

"Do you think he could be right?" asked another.

The first man scowled. "Of course not! Everyone knows Herod is Jewish!"

The next morning, before the men awoke, the strange-looking chariot and its strange driver were gone.

"He certainly was quick to get out of here, whoever he was!"

"Yeah! Wonder who he was. Well, no matter. To morning prayers, shall we?"

PART I CHAPTER 3:

ANSWERS AND QUESTIONS

In the present moment, the power and intelligence is always available to rightly handle any person or situation.

\----Superwisdom Notebooks

The road to Tiberius led first northeastward and then directly eastward. Why they made the route so indirect the stranger didn't know. It would have been much quicker had it gone straight across. But, that's how they did things these days.

At last, he reached the city. On he rode, through its main part, and up a steep hill to an obscure back entrance of the grayish grand palace that towered there forebodingly above the city. There he stopped. He stepped down from the chariot and tied the horses to one of the trees that grew there. Then he strode straight toward the door, which was almost hidden by the many vines and flowers that grew along the wall. He reached knowingly for the latch and entered.

On he strode until he reached another much bigger door, or pair of doors, massive, bleak and bare, yet separated by and enclosed with ornate columns. How ridiculous they look, he thought, standing there amidst those towers of beauty! But, after all, that's the style! Pushing one aside, he entered a hallway. He passed by the wall paintings and fancy vases, which were, he thought, ridiculously lavish, and many just plain stupid, though, again, the style of the day. On he strode until he reached a great zigzagging staircase. It slanted first left and then right. What a waste of space, he thought, and, of time spent climbing the thing! But, of course, it's what all the other noblemen and rulers have. He prevailed upon himself to ascend it. Then, on he strode until he reached a door, plain and brown among the rest, but bearing at its top a Roman eagle and a star of David. He raised the latch and in he strode.

In his huge, plush chair sat the king himself. Though only of medium height, he was quite impressive looking in his royal robe, with his full beard and his gold Jewelry. His short, golden crown was in his hand. When he was nervous, he would spend hours playing with it, placing it on his head and impulsively tearing it off again, then constantly turning it this way and that. Stopped short by the sound of the latch, he now simply held it still. Then, as the door opened, he raised his arm above his head and threw the crown at the black clothed personage who entered. チ

"Well, Manaheem! It's about time! Where have you been, by Caesar?!"

The other stepped aside and the crown hit the wall, and went rolling down the floor. "Why, carrying out your wishes, dear brother. But why, I do not know, except for the pure enjoyment of the intrigue, and the present emptiness of my pocket, in that order, of course."

"Well, you certainly took your time about it!"

The other shrugged. "You failed to inform me of any rush. And, even if you had, I doubt I'd have taken heed. I'm not afraid of you, you know. Though everyone else may be, I am not." The crown hit the back wall, and started rolling back toward them.

Herod scowled. "I'll overlook that for now. Well, out with it! What have you found?"

"Why a leader, of course, just as you requested – a certain blacksmith, whose heart is full of rebellion."

Herod smiled broadly. "Excellent! I knew you could do it." Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a bag of money. "Here's what we agreed upon. I've been holding it in expectation of your success." He tossed the bag to the other.

Manaheem slipped the bag into his pitch-black robe and smiled. Then, he stooped and picked up the crown, now at his feet, and tossed it back to its owner. "You'd best try holding onto your crown better in the future."

Herod winced as he caught the crown. チ"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Why, nothing! It was just a joke. Where's your sense of humor, your Majesty? But, come to think of it, there may be more truth than falsehood in it."

"What?! What do you mean?" Herod's brow wrinkled deeply.

"Well, you intend to use this man to lead a revolt against Pilate, right?"

"--If, and when, I decide to do so. Pilate seems harmless enough, but, if his following continues to grow, he could try to force me out of office and claim Galilee and Perea for himself."

"And so, you want me to keep our friend ready until such a time as you deem necessary or useful. And, if you decide to use him, and the revolt should fail, he would be the one to get in trouble and no one would ever suspect you had anything to do with it."

"I always said you had a good head, Manaheem."

The other smiled cynically. "But, you are playing with fire, as it were, brother dear. If this man can destroy Pilate, what's to stop him from destroying you?"

"The law and my armies. For, once he has done away with Pilate, my armies shall join themselves to those of the former governor and the imperial forces of Rome in a combined effort to capture the traitor and his fellows. Of course, all of this is if I decide to go against Pilate."

Manaheem again smiled cynically. "An excellent plan, if it works. But, there's always a chance that something might go wrong. The timing may get off. The revolt may be crushed before it has a chance to succeed. The insurgents may get to you before the army gets to them. Or, better yet, they may, for some odd reason, at the last moment, decide upon you as their first target, and not Pilate. Ha! Now that would be a fine turn of affairs, wouldn't it? But, your Majesty looks worried. Do I frighten you? Does my jest fall too harshly upon your royal ears?"

"You delight in torturing me with words, don't you, Manaheem? I thought we were friends. After all, we are foster brothers. I suppose you would rather enjoy it if they did turn on me."

"Ah, let's just say, I would find it most interesting."

"Most interesting? Why, I'd be likely to lose my whole kingdom, and, perhaps my life, as well, and you'd find it most interesting! Huh! Some friend and brother you turned out to be!"

"Your life?" Manaheem cocked his head. "I wasn't thinking of that! Really, I wasn't! But, I suppose it's possible. But you know me better than to think I'd relish that, Herod. Why, we are practically brothers, even if I am a Jew, and you, an Idumean. But, your kingdom– now, that's a different matter. Perhaps if you lost your kingdom, you'd learn that life is more than material substance and position. The only reason I took that money from you is that I'm in great need, now that my regularly poor business has taken a turn for the worse. But you know that when I had money I always did what I could to help those in need. But what about you? How much have you given to the poor lately? You have great sums stored up here. For what? I believe in the superiority of spiritual good. I'm searching for the true meaning of life. But, in the meantime, I stand against the materialism and hypocrisy of this age. And I don't make pretenses. I'm a non-conformist, remember?"

"Ah, yes!" Now it was Herod's turn to be cynical. "You are a non-conformist, aren't you? How could I ever forget it with those black tunics you wear all the time? You probably make the dyer very happy with your purchases of black. I suppose you consider that a necessity. And what about that fancy chariot and horses you drive?"

"A businessman must dress decently and be able to get around. I have simply chosen my own style. It hasn't cost me that much more, and I consider the little extra it has cost well worth it, for it has brought me the supreme joy of being different."

Herod stroked his beard. "Well, you certainly are different, though I fail to see what joy there is in it. That crazy way you shave your face! The Romans are clean-shaven, and the Jews are fully bearded, but you! You shave only the lower part of your face – and you, being a Jew at that!"

"It's true, I was born a Jew." Manaheem walked over to the wall and picked up one of the chairs that lined it. "But since your father adopted me, I've become a citizen of Rome, like you." Pulling the chair up close to Herod, he slowly sat down. "So I am really both, and really neither. I choose to be identified with neither, but to be my own man. But you, dear Herod, are truly neither, not even by birth. So why imitate either in appearance or action? Why try to fit in where you don't really fit?"

Herod winced. "A public servant must bend to those he serves. And, after all, what else is there? Our old Idumean ways are gone for good."

Manaheem nodded. "True. And I don't know if it would have been much better if you'd kept them either. It would have given you your identity as a people, true. But then, customs are customs and all are binding. A man must be free to be himself – to think, act and express himself according to the dictates of his own conscience, free from the scorn, or worse, of others."

Herod placed the crown back on his head and sat with his chin resting in his hand. "An interesting philosophy, I must admit, although highly impractical. But tell me, dear brother, just what was it that started you thinking along those lines?"

"A disgust with people, conditions, and conformity." Manaheem leaned back in his chair. "Of course, the uniqueness of my situation may have contributed to my way of thinking. Being raised by a people not my own may have given me an edge of aloofness. I saw the way the royal family lived and wanted no part of it. I wasn't sure I wanted the way my own people lived either. I wanted not form and show, but reality. Of course, my first real shove in that direction, so to speak, came when I was just ten years old. I shall remember those fateful days as long as I live. You, being part of the royal family, and being two years my senior, had been sent away to Rome for your formal schooling. You missed it, dear brother! And you may thank your lucky stars you were not roaming these streets in those days, for even the tales that came back would have curled your royal blood. We never spoke of it because it was so horrible. But I think you should know of it, dear brother, since you are the tetrarch. Perhaps then, you may avoid the extreme cruelty of your father, who for his own selfish vanity sacrificed hundreds of tender, innocent young lives."

"You have succeeded in arousing my curiosity. Please proceed. I shall have Linus bring in some wine." Herod pulled a cord that hung from the ceiling and a male servant entered. "Wine for two, Linus." The servant left as quickly as he had appeared, and, almost as quickly, reappeared, carrying a large pitcher of wine and two goblets. "Proceed, Manaheem, proceed," insisted Herod. The servant filled the goblets and left.

"My pleasure," said Manaheem, as he reached for his glass. "It all started with the arrival of those eastern dignitaries to the palace. What fear their words brought to Herod the great!" He took a sip. "Say, this wine is quite good!"

"Nothing but the best," replied Herod, taking a big gulp. "Proceed!"

"Now, where was I?" mused Manaheem, taking another sip. "Oh yes, those eastern visitors. I had noticed their arrival from my bedchamber window, and was curious as to just what their mission might be. So I silently stole downstairs and hid behind the curtains, listening intently. They told a wondrous tale of a child who was to be born king of the Jews. They told how they'd seen his star in the east and had followed it all the way to Jerusalem. They'd traversed many tiresome miles over rocky terrain. The star had gone before them, guiding them all the way. But, now it had disappeared, and so they came to the palace, seeking information. They wanted to worship the new king. Did Herod, or anyone, know of his whereabouts? I could see from your father's face that he was extremely troubled at this. He dismissed the visitors, telling them to wait in the hall until he sent for them. Then he called together all the chief priests and scribes, and anxiously asked them where the Messiah was to be born. I didn't understand what they were talking about, but they informed him that, according to the Holy Scriptures, it was to be in Bethlehem. Then, after dismissing his advisers, he sent for the visitors. He diligently and minutely questioned them as to the exact time when the star first appeared, finding it to be about two years earlier. He then sent them to Bethlehem, telling them to search diligently for the child there. When they had found the child, they were to bring him word so that he too might worship him. Ha! He cared not to worship him. His devilish mind was already at work, scheming how to get rid of this young king; for, Herod the great feared for his royal throne." He sipped the wine slowly.

Herod took another gulp. "Father always did seem a bit overly cautious in that respect. But, I figured, better safe than sorry."

Manaheem raised his goblet to his lips and took another sip. "That sounds good, brother, but it isn't always true."

"Be that as it may, did the visitors return?"

"No!" Manaheem placed the goblet on the table and gestured with his hands. "They never returned. Our father finally realized that he'd been fooled and became furious. I happened to be in the next room when it happened. He was pacing distractedly across the floor and muttering to himself: 'where are they? It couldn't have taken them this long!' Then, he suddenly raised his voice and blurted out, 'They've fooled me! They've misled me! They've betrayed my trust! Those fools! If they think they're protecting him, they're wrong. I'll kill that child if it's the last thing I do!' Then he called out for me. 'Manaheem! Manaheem, are you around? Is anyone around this echoing shell of a palace? Manaheem!' I entered and stood before him. 'Go,' he ordered, 'and tell Malichus I want to see him at once!'"

"I remember Malichus." Herod ventured, taking another gulp and reaching for the pitcher. "He was the captain of the palace guard at that time."

"---And of the royal army as well." Manaheem paused to sip his wine.

"Of course. Do continue."

"At that moment he was in the courtyard, overseeing one of his sergeants, who was conducting a drill of the palace guard. I descended the courtyard steps, wondering what our father had in mind. They were there in beautiful formation. As Claudius called out the orders and the guard responded, Malichus sat watching and, occasionally, making suggestions. His attention was focused so intently on what was going on that I hated to interrupt. But, as you know, when Herod ordered, we moved. I walked up fairly close to him and called out his name. 'Malichus! Malichus!'

"He turned toward me. 'What is it, my son?'

"'My father would see you at once,' I yelled.

"'Alright,' he yelled back, getting up from his chair. 'Carry on,' he yelled to Claudius, and I followed him back to the throne room."

"And then what happened?" asked Herod, still gulping the wine.

"Say, you'd better watch it with that wine."

"Aw, I know how to handle myself. Proceed!"

"Well, I remained in the shadows, listening to our father's conversation with Malichus. I was aghast! He informed Malichus of his royal wrath and jealous fear. And then, the dreadful order came. His command was thus: that since, according to the first appearance of the star, the child had to be two years old or younger, he, Malichus, was to take a company of the royal army to Bethlehem, and, there, to have all male children two years old or under killed – brutally put to death! What a sentence to impose upon a city! At last the putrid evil that lay buried under our father's facade of dignity was unmasked. The tyrant valued his own petty kingdom so much that he would have hundreds of innocent children slain to insure its protection. I was enraged that such a thing could happen – and would unless I could do something to prevent it."

Herod placed his goblet on the table. "But what could you, a small boy of ten, do?"

"That was what I wondered. What could I do? Warn people that they might flee? They probably wouldn't believe me. But, it was worth a try. I'd do it. For the first time in my life, I would be going against my father. Although he was really my stepfather, he'd been like a real father to me, and I had thought of him as such. I had respected him. Up to this time, I had regarded as mere idle rumors the tales of the terrible cruelty and bloodshed which he had perpetrated not only among his subjects but in his own family as well."

Herod took another big gulp. "You must be referring to those stories of him killing his own brothers and mother-in-law."

"And God only knows how many more."

"I've always regarded those things as empty fables."

"I had regarded them so up to that time. But now I was seeing an even worse situation unfold before my very eyes. All boy babies of two or younger! How extremely heathen!"

Herod reached for his glass again. "Indeed, how utterly fiendish!"

"So why should I obey him now, or give consent to what he did? Why not dare to stand alone and act on my own convictions? So much freedom seemed to be awaiting me. Why not reach out and boldly embark upon it? And so I did." He paused to sip his wine.

Herod took another gulp and leaned forward on his chair, impatiently. "You warned the people, I suppose. But, how did you get to Bethlehem? It's too far for a small boy to walk."

"I stole one of our father's horses from the royal stable and rode out before the army could get organized enough to begin their long march."

"That must have been quite a rough ride for a boy of your age. The roads were even worse back then than they are now."

"It was a rough ride. I remember that I held on as tight as I could. I made it, but when I arrived and dismounted and was attempting to tie the horse to a tree, he broke loose and ran away." He brought his glass to his lips and took another sip.

Herod took another gulp and reached for the pitcher to fill both goblets. "Well, how did you get back?"

"I'll tell you that in due time, brother. Of course, at the moment I was wondering how I would. But then my purpose came floating before my mind. I began to run. I ran as fast as I could to the first house I found and knocked on the door, hoping that someone would be awake and would hear my knock." He paused and took another sip.

Herod sipped his wine too now, probably because it was getting low and he didn't want to have to interrupt the story by sending for another pitcher. "And was anyone awake?"

"As a matter of fact, the whole family was awake. But it was the lady of the house who opened the door to me and stood looking down at me inquiringly. 'Yes?' I knew what she must have been thinking. What could a small boy like me be wanting at this time of night? I was almost too scared to speak. But I knew I must.

"'Have you any little boys two years old or younger?' I ventured.

"'Why, yes,' she replied, somewhat surprised, 'one. Who wants to know?'

"'I do,' I said. 'I have some urgent news for you. May I come in?'

"'Well, I guess so.'" Manaheem slowly sipped his wine, and then continued:

"Such a filthy looking place I have never seen. There were scrolls and articles of clothing strewn all over the place. To the right of the door where I came in, sat her husband in tattered garb. The children looked worse. They were roaming wildly through the house, except for one, who sat on his father's knee. The father was reading to the boy, who listened intently. But as soon as my presence was noticed, the reading stopped and both father and son looked up inquisitively. The other children kept on with their play and chatter. The mother spoke first, raising her voice so as to be heard by all. 'Uh – this young man says he has something important to tell us.'

"Now the other children stopped to listen as well. All eyes were upon me. 'Yes, I-uh-that is--' Suddenly I found I didn't know what to say or how to say it. But I knew it must be said. So I tried again. 'Uh–you are in danger– uh, your son is, that is–your son of under two years.'

"'What? What's that about our little Joshua?'

"'He is to be killed, along with all the others of his age group. Every boy of two or under in this city is to be killed!'

"The man stood up and put his hands on his hips. 'Son, if this is your idea of a joke---'

"'It's no joke, sir,' I managed. 'It's deadly serious.'

"'And how are they to be killed, and by whom? And how come you to know such noisome news?'

"I found myself becoming bolder with every minute. 'They're to be killed by Herod's army by direct order from Herod himself. As to how I know, let's just say I have some inside information from the palace. You must believe me! You must! There's not much time. You must flee the city at once! I must warn others also. I must warn as many as I can.'

"'He seems to believe what he says,' said the woman, walking closer to her husband. 'Perhaps it is so.'

"'Can't you see he's deluded?' the man asserted. 'The boy is mad!'

"'Be that as it may, if there's a chance that what he says is true---'

"'How could it be? Yes, Herod is a bloody tyrant, but he has never done anything without some sort of reason. What possible reason could he have for killing all the boy babies of Bethlehem?'

"Now it was my turn. 'Herod feels certain that in so doing, he will have killed a king whose coming was revealed to him by certain wise men from the east who saw the new king's star and followed it to Jerusalem. He's certain it is the Messiah king who is to come out of Bethlehem as foretold by the prophets. The star first appeared about two years ago, so...'

"'Ha!' he interrupted. 'Now I know he's mad! Wise men from the east, following a star! Who could believe a tale like that?'

"The woman looked her husband in the eye. 'I could. I don't know why, but I sense there is truth in what he says. Oh, Ezra, Ezra! We must flee!'

"'What? And leave our happy home here? Leave my business? Leave what I've worked for all my life, for a silly child's tale?'

"'For my baby, Joshua!' She walked over to the youngest boy and put her arm around him, drawing him close to her. 'My baby, my baby!'

"'He's just as much mine as he is yours.'

"'Then why don't you want to flee?'

"'Because I don't believe this fair-haired dreamer of a youth!'

"'But, if there's a chance that what he says might be true--. My baby, oh my dear baby!'

"I was standing close to him and he grabbed me by the tunic and held me as tightly as he could. 'Look me in the eye, son.' I did. 'Son, are you lying to us?'

"'Oh, no, sir! It's true, every bit of it, I swear!'

"'And how did you find all of this out?'

"'Good God!' I exploded, wrenching myself loose from his grip. 'Do I have to spell everything out for you? Herod's my father. I heard it all with my own ears. I stole one of the horses from the royal stable and rode all the way here so I could warn people like you. And then, you won't believe me! What must I do to make you believe me?'

"'You see, dear,' said the woman, walking back toward her husband. 'It is true!'

"'Alright! We'll leave as soon as we can get packed.'"

By now the wine was quite low in the pitcher, and Herod and Manaheem sat slowing sipping from half-filled glasses. "Wow!" exclaimed Herod. "That was close. But at least you convinced them."

"Yes, but they weren't all convinced that easily. Many of them were not convinced at all. By the time the first rays of dawn broke, I felt I never wanted to see another human face again. My feet were sore from walking, and I was physically and mentally exhausted. But I knew I must continue until the last family had been warned. As I approached the next house, the sound of marching feet greeted my ears. I knew there wasn't much time left now, so I beat wildly on the door. Why didn't it open? Why? And then, suddenly, it did, and I was standing in the presence of another one of those pretty young faces that had greeted me so often that night. I didn't need to ask her my opening question, for she carried her young son with her in her arms. He was such a cute baby, but there was no time for admiration now. I warned her with the fastest possible speed and greatest possible tact; though I fear I was much lacking in the latter. She doubted, as had many, but invited me in for further explanation. I explained as best I could, pleading with her to flee, as I had done with so many others. Finally, she decided that I was right, and, grabbing her bags, began packing madly. The baby was crawling joyfully about; not suspecting what might be his fate. And then came the fatal knock. She straightened, petrified with fright. 'It's them!' she exclaimed, 'and I forgot to bolt the door!' In my own anxiety, I too had failed to think about the door. In they marched, that horrid hoard of armor, with Malichus at their head. I cringed."

"Did they recognize you?" asked Herod.

"If they did, they didn't show it. Malichus looked straight at the woman. 'Madam,' he said gruffly, 'I'm sorry to inform you that Herod has ordered us to kill all boy babies in this city of two and under.'

"'Aha!' cried one of the soldiers, spotting the child. 'There's one of the little rascals now. I know he's not yet two.'

"'Grab him, Cassias!' and he did.

"The woman ran over to the soldier and began pulling at him. 'You leave my baby alone! He's my baby, do y' hear me? My baby!'

Malichus walked calmly up to the woman and grabbed her wrists. "yes, we know, lady. You got any more of two or under?'

"'No, no! Just my Jonathan. He's the only one I have. My poor, poor Jonathan! My baby!'

"'Well, we'll see about that! Marcus, search the house!' And the big soldier disappeared behind an open door.

"'Shall we wait for him, boss, or shall we go ahead?'

"By this time, the woman had managed to struggle free of Malichus' grasp and started pulling at him. 'Go ahead and what, you beast?! Offhand that child! He's mine, do y' hear me? He's my baby! An' we're good upstandin' citizens. Why should you want my baby?'

"He shook himself free of her. 'I'm sorry, lady, but orders is orders. They can't be changed just for you. Herod said all boy babies two and under and that includes him.'

"'But you can't, you can't!' she screamed, pulling at him, 'I won't let you kill my baby!'

"'Oh yeah? Listen, lady, don't make it any harder on us than it is already. Personally, we'd rather not kill your baby. But, you know what happens to us if we disobey an order from Herod, don't you? We get killed, that's what. An' it's no quick an' easy death either. It's torture – slow torture. So, it's either your baby or us lady, and I think you know which it is that we favor.'

"'So you must kill my baby – my little Jonathan – and all because of one man's whim? What is this world coming to, when one man can do so much against so many? I hate that tyrant, Herod, and all of you, his dupes too! I'll hate you all until I die!'

"The big soldier returned to the room. 'That's it, boss. I searched every space in this shack and found no one.'

"'Thank you, Marcus.'

"'Ah!' cried another soldier, 'then we can proceed!'

Malichus smiled a cynical smile. チ"'You seem a bit anxious, Anthony."

"'And so I am–anxious to get this blood business over with.'

"'Then,' boomed out Malichus's voice, 'swing your sword and have done with it.'

"'My baby, my baby! You can't kill my baby! I won't let you! Do you hear me? I won't let you. He's mine and nobody is going to take him from me!' The mother, mad with fright and feeling for her child' was pulling wildly on the arms of the soldier who was holding her baby.

"'You'll have to stand back, lady!'

"'Stand back nothin'! He's my baby, and I'm not gonna' stand by and see him butchered! My baby! My dear sweet baby! Let him go! Let him go!'

"'Lady, if you don't get away from here, I'm going to have to---'

"'You can't make me move! I shall never move!'

"'Ah, but you shall!' And the sharp edge of the soldier's sword fell across the woman's wrist. Quickly, so quickly, her hand was severed and went sailing to the floor. And quickly she moved back, overcome with pain. And quickly the sharp blade reached and struck again with another well-aimed swoop. Soon, amid the spurts of blood, the child's head rolled and reached the floor to join the hand in pools of blood. Their job finished for the moment, the soldiers soon withdrew. The killer put his bloody sword back into its sheath. It would be stained by innocent blood many times over before the day was done."

Herod shuddered involuntarily as he placed the goblet back on the stand. Then he straightened himself in his chair and looked at the speaker. "It must have been quite a traumatic experience for you, especially at that age!"

"It certainly was. The sight of those things made me shiver, as their remembrance does somewhat even now. I left the house as quickly as possible, conveying as best I could to the dear woman, who was now hysterical, my deepest sympathies and promising to send a doctor if I could find one. Then, I ran as fast as I could. I ran through the town, keeping my eyes open for a doctor's office. Having caught sight of one, I ran inside and, huffing and puffing, managed to inform the startled doctor of the poor woman's plight. Then I ran on without stopping, my heart pounding, until at last, I was out of that accursed town. Having reached the outskirts, I sat down to rest. And I thought. I thought how horrible it was. And I thought of what that woman had pointed out: that it was all because of one man's whim that hundreds of innocent children must die. And that one man was sitting back and taking it easy in his nice plush palace, while his soldiers slaughtered innocent children by his command. What was the world coming to? It must be pretty rotten to allow such things, and pretty blind not to believe its own foul news, as many had not. I was disgusted with the world. I was disgusted with Herod, but more so with his men who feared so much to withstand him and refuse to carry out so hideous and order. Would he really have tortured and killed them? If they'd have gotten the word out to all the soldiers, couldn't they have withstood him? But, they didn't think. They blindly went along. Right then and there I decided I would be different. I would be my own man, not duped, or blinded or ruled by anyone."

"But you did return to the palace, didn't you?" asked Herod, anxiously.

"What else could I do?" Manaheem reached again for the nearly empty glass and sipped slowly.

"But how did you get back? Did you find the horse and ride back again?"

"No, thank God. I don't think I could have stood the ride. Fortunately, one of the families I had warned, who didn't believe me at first, finally realized I might be telling the truth. They managed to get out just before the soldiers got there and escape undetected. My running had placed me slightly ahead of them. They saw me and offered me a ride back. We got to know each other, and I thought of asking them to take me in, but I realized that they had enough on their hands with their own family. So where else could I go but back to the palace? It was my only chance. I sneaked back in through the back entrance. Our father was so absorbed with his own thoughts and fears that he didn't even realize I was gone."

"Well, what about the horse? Wasn't it reported missing?"

"No, the groom never reported it, probably for fear of losing his position or his life." As I said, it was the only thing I could do, but I was careful not to let any of the royal family's hypocritical ways rub off on me. I developed my own lifestyle, and only let myself be pushed so far, as you well know. I dreamed of the day when I could be on my own. I thought I might like to be a writer, and so I labored over a few books."

"Yes, I seem to recall that you were working on one when I returned from Rome."

"But, as you may recall, I was never able to sell my work, probably because it contained too much condemnation of society. So, I gave up writing and turned to merchandising, which, as you know, is a precarious trade, but nevertheless, one which allows me to be my own boss." Manaheem put his glass back on the table and said thoughtfully, "Yes, brother dear, you might say I'm a rebel – a rebel against the authority of royalty, the pressures of society and the ignorance of the masses. I've been a rebel since that horrible day."

Herod picked up his glass again and drained the few drops that remained in it. チ"I'm certainly glad I wasn't there then."

"But, if you had been ruling instead of your father, would you have acted differently? You have the same lust for power that the old man had."

"True, but to kill all those innocent children--." Herod cringed.

"Would you not do it, if you really believed your kingdom to be threatened? Would you not, really? Think about it, brother, dear."

"I shall, you devil! I really shall. But, getting back to that fool, Pilate, I think I'll drive over there and pay him a little visit to find out how he's getting along and see if I can determine his aspirations."

Herod walked to the door, opened it, and called out. "Samantha, dear, where are you? Get ready quickly, dear. I'd like for us to pay a call on Pilate and his wife."

"Now, Herod?" A feminine voice came echoing back.

"Yes, now!" Then turning back to his guest, he offered, "Manaheem, make yourself at home while we're gone if you like."

She was tall and thin and decked out in her queenly array of white and purple. As she entered she spoke. "Well, It's a good thing I was already dressed." Upon seeing Manaheem, she nodded and said, "Oh, good evening, Manaheem."

"Good evening, your Majesty," he replied. Then turning to Herod, he asked, "Are you sure you're in condition to---"

Herod started walking slowly toward the door as he replied gruffly, "I told you I'm able to take care of myself. Just make yourself at home. Come on, dear!"

Just as they were about to leave, there was a knock on the door. Herod's hand was already on the doorknob when the knock came. A little startled, he opened the door. "Why, brother, Philip, and your lovely wife, Herodias! What a surprise! Too bad, Samantha and I were just leaving. You'll have to call on us tomorrow."

"Oh, we can't stay either. We just dropped by to invite you to my birthday party, Wednesday of next week." They stepped back into the room a little, forcing Herod and his wife to do the same. As they did so, the scent of the woman's perfume filled the air.

"I thought your birthday was next month."

"It is, but no one remembers. That way I can have a couple o' birthday parties a year."

"Quite clever. Well, yes, Samantha and I shall drop by. But now, we really must be going."

"As must we. Good day!"

As the pair turned to leave, Manaheem couldn't help but notice how Herod's eyes followed the young wife of his brother. Samantha was straightening up her hair and didn't notice her husband's wandering gaze. But Manaheem noticed and would keep it in his mind.

"See you later, Manaheem."

"So long," he replied, "and good luck, if luck there be."

PART I CHAPTER 4:

VISION AND ACTION

If we feel bad about who we are, we need to change these feelings within our own mind to create a stronger love for ourselves.

\---Marlana

Tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution.

\---Kahlil "Ibran

What every man needs, regardless of his job or the kind of work he is doing, is a vision of what his place is and may be.

\---Joseph M. Dodge

As dusk fell upon the city of Caesarea, the sound of clamoring voices, which had surrounded the praetorium, dwindled away. The lone figure at the center of the judgment hall finally emerged from its shadows. Though tall, he was somewhat slumped over, his gaily colored clothes hanging loosely on his frail frame. He walked slowly and deliberately as he moved from the open judgment area through the hallway that led to the main entrance of his home. Opening the door, he called out to the tall, lonely figure of a woman who sat quietly on the lavish couch at one side of the dimly lighted sitting room, "Darling, I'm home."

Her previously pensive face broke into a broad smile. "At last!" She clapped her hands as a signal to the servant girl in the next room. "You must be starved. Dora cooked us a lovely dinner." She got up and moved slowly to the dining area. The table was already set and there was a large bottle of wine chilling in the center. She motioned for her husband to follow. "Come, let's eat." After the servant girl placed the food on the table and filled two glasses with wine, she dismissed her, and, walking back to her husband, whose gait was slower than hers, put her arm around him. As they walked together the short distance to the table, she asked, "Tell me, how was your day, Pilate dear?"

"Uh! What a day! All kinds of cases! All kinds of silly laws to enforce." By now they had reached the table. She seated herself gracefully, while he flopped down into the plush chair that was waiting for him. "I wish I was as wise as Socrates and as strong as Caesar."

She got up and threw both of her arms around him, smiling. "Oh, but you are, my dear Pilate, you are! You mustn't underestimate yourself so! Now, come on, let's eat." She released him and sat down again.

"No, Portia, dear." He sighed, placing his napkin on his lap. "It's not what I am, but rather what you'd like me to be. You know very well that I'm a washout – a wishy-washy, no-good-weakling."

Her hand hit the table, causing the dishes of food to shake, as she called out his name in disgust. "Pontius Pilate! How dare you downgrade yourself so? You're just as good as any other ruler and you know it! In fact, there's no reason at all why you couldn't rule Galilee and Perea as well as Judea if you put your mind to it."

"But, why should I?" he asked, as he helped himself to generous portions of the lamb, potatoes, and vegetables. "Herod handles that territory quite well, I believe." He passed the food to her and started to eat.

"But there's no reason why you couldn't do just as well, if not better." She retorted, filling her plate.

"Really, Portia dear! I'm not even doing a good job with Judea, and you talk of extending my territory!"

They continued to eat, continuing the conversation between bites.

"What do you mean, you're not doing a good job with Judea? I think you're a fine governor, and Caesar must think so too, or you wouldn't be here. What makes you think differently?"

"You haven't been watching me out there lately. I give in to the people constantly, not to mention listening to Herod's stupid suggestions."

"Ah! I wasn't aware of that. I thought you were the same tough governor you used to be. What's wrong with you? Have you lost your backbone?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps I have. But, on the other hand, perhaps I'm really starting to do a good job for the first time in my life."

She winced, as she reached for her glass to wash down the last mouthful. "Just what do you mean by that?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Dear, don't you think the people deserve some consideration?"

"Why?" She snarled and turned to face him more squarely. "They don't know what's good for them. How can they know the intricate workings of government? And yet they want to run it! They gripe and the fuss! They've griped ever since you became governor and they're still griping."

"Surely they had just cause back then. I do believe we were a bit too hard on them from the beginning, dear."

"We?"

"Or you! It was you who stood behind me all the way. It was your idea to treat 'em tough. It was your idea to tax 'em heavily and enforce the taxation. 'Show 'em who's boss,' you said." He took another bite of lamb and washed it down with a big gulp of wine. "And all the trouble with those Jews – that business of moving the army to Jerusalem – that was your idea too, you know, and it caused more trouble! Since the soldiers' standards bore the image of the divine emperor, they were viewed as desecrating the holy city. Of course, the Jews were outraged. But I stood firm. 'Show 'em who's boss,' you insisted, and I loved you, so I stood firm against them— as firm as I could. When they came here, all the way from Jerusalem, to plead with me for the removal of my army from their city, I did not immediately give in or think of doing so. But I tried to be fair and listened objectively to their arguments. For five days I listened, considering the merits of their case, until, I got tired of hearing of their religious superstitions. Finally, at your insistence, I had them surrounded by soldiers and threatened them with death if they did not cease to trouble me."

"A very wise move, if I do say so!"

"Yes, I was starting to stand quite ruthlessly, upon my own feet, so to speak. But I could only stand up to a point even then. I fear they stood more than I did that day, for when they declared themselves ready to submit to death rather than to my idolatrous order. I did give in, finally, and ordered the standards brought back here to Judea."

She sighed. "Yes, I remember that I remarked it was a dreadful sign of weakness on your part. But you persisted."

"I couldn't, as yet, bring myself to give the death order. Not then. But a few months later, I did."

"And none too soon!"

"'None too soon', you say? So it was none too soon that I became a cruel and heartless man?"

"---that you became a man, Pilate! -–that you became a man at all!"

"Manhood is not savagery!" He reached for the wine bottle and filled his glass. "Those Galileans were all innocent. I killed them in my blinded wrath. Yes, it was I who killed them, for I gave the order. May their blood be upon my hands, and yours too for encouraging me in that dreadful deed! I thought I was being a man, asserting my rights and showing them who was boss, as you insisted. But, what good did it do me? I became a bloody tyrant! Is it any wonder that the people dislike me? Time and again I have stood against their will. Well, I've stood to stand no more! I'm through standing. I have gloried in the death of others until it makes me sick to think about it." He sighed. "I'm getting old, Portia."

"Nonsense!" She slammed her hand down on the table again, causing the dishes to rattle. "You're only thirty-nine years old!"

"And nine of them spent in this wretched governorship, standing, lording myself over the people I should serve."

"You should what? Is that how Rome got its glory – by serving people?"

"I don't know about Rome, but I know what type of government is best, and Rome would have done well to add it to its list of Greek adaptations."

"And what type is that, dear Pilate?"

By now he had finished eating. He put down his utensils and took off his napkin, placing it on his plate. "Well, it's certainly not this miserable monarchy, where the only thought of the rulers is for their own welfare. It's a thing called democracy, dear, democracy--a type of government whereby the people rule, only not directly, as they're trying to do now, but through responsible government that knows what's best for them and has their welfare in mind."

She finished her meal as well, and moved her chair back, turning to face him squarely once more. "Pontius Pilate! Where did you get those ideas?"

"I told you I've been doing a lot of reading and thinking lately."

"And that's what you came up with? Democracy? Bah! What good would a democracy do?"

"It might give me some peace, for one thing. Why, it's getting so that I can't sleep at night for thinking about them."

"---For thinking about who?"

"Who do you think? The people, dear, the people! I think of them constantly. Is it any wonder? I see them almost the entire day. They come to me with case after case, complaint after complaint, and I wish I could help them all. You see, I finally started seeing them as individuals, and not just as so many faces to be trampled on in the line of civic duty and on the way to the top. I've started to see them as people, Portia – as real people. I've started to realize that they have their own individual lives to live just as we have ours. They deserve some just consideration."

"Pontius Pilate! Are you crazy? After nine years of despotic rule you--- No! Not now! Don't go soft now! Why what would everyone think if you suddenly--? What do you think Caesar would say? You just might lose your position entirely, if word gets back to him. Did you think of that?"

"Yes, I thought of it. But somehow, it seems better not to rule at all than to continue being cruel, heartless and despotic. I've been that way for too long. I was even cruel and heartless toward my brother when I was a child. But, I was always sorry afterward. I wanted to change, but it seemed I couldn't. Perhaps I never wanted to change badly enough until now."

She scowled. "The only change you're going to make is another step on the way up. And the sooner, the better!"

"Honestly, Portia!" He pushed himself away from the table and got up. "Won't you ever be satisfied?"

"Not until you rule Galilee and Perea as well as Judea and Samaria." She got up and followed him.

"You know I could never take Herod's place."

"Certainly you could!"

"Anyway, why should I? Herod is my friend."

"He's your friend, alright! He's your friend just so he can get you to do everything he wants you to! You said you always follow his wishes even though---"

He flopped down on the couch. "But, Portia, dear, Herod is a very nice per---"

Suddenly there was a loud knock. Portia was still standing when the knock came. She started to call for the servant to get the door, but decided to get it herself, thinking that the exercise would do her good. "Well, how about that!" She smiled broadly at the visitors. "If it isn't Herod and his lovely wife, Samantha! We were just talking about you– uh, wondering how you both were doing."

"We're fine. And, you two?" They entered, closing the door behind them.

Pilate rose and went to meet them, extending his hand. "Couldn't be better. Why, just a moment ago, I was telling Portia here what a nice fellow you are, and what an able ruler. Isn't that right, dear?"

"Well," Portia replied, raising one eyebrow, "not exactly. You see, he was really telling me what a tyrant you are, and how he hated himself for always following your suggestions. Isn't that right, Pilate dear?"

"What? I said no such--"

But Herod's bellowing voice drowned out the feeble protest of Pilate. "So! You think me a tyrant, do you? Well, well! Is that any way to speak of an old friend?"

Again, Pilate started to speak, but this time, Portia's voice prevailed. "Friend? The only reason you're his friend is so that you can use him, and you know it! How many friends do you have like that?"

"Really, Portia, dear!" Pilate put his hand on his wife's shoulder, as he addressed her quietly but forcefully. "Must you carry on so?"

"Yes, Pontius Pilate," she whispered, shaking herself free of his grasp. "It's about time someone did, and if I don't, who will? Will you?"

He thought for a moment. "Why not? Now that you started it." Pilate found himself waxing bolder by the moment. "What extra harm could I do?" Raising his voice, he turned to the tetrarch. "Herod, the truth is that I do happen to think that many of your suggestions are stupid and impractical, and I often wonder why I follow them."

"Ah ha!" Herod stomped his foot on the marble floor for emphasis. "I was wondering about your true feelings. Now, at last, the truth comes out. Well, I'll not stand for your rebellious attitude! I'll---"

Samantha, silent up till now, joined the conversation. "And why shouldn't you? I fear you don't think highly of this governor yourself."

"Samantha! Must you?" Herod winced.

"Yes! I think it's about time it came out! You do not prize this governor at all, do you, Herod? What was it you called him the other day? Ah, yes! A fool!"

Pilate placed himself squarely in front of Herod. "A fool, eh?! Well, I guess I have been a fool to listen to you, you stupid tyrant!"

Herod turned. "Let us be going, Samantha. But don't think that I shall forget this, Pontius Pilate! You shall pay for your rebellious tongue. You shall pay indeed!" Soon they were gone and the door was heard slamming boisterously behind them.

Now Portia put her hand on Pilate's shoulder. "Don't let him worry you, my dear."

"Worry me? Why, it's he who'd better worry! Your suggestion begins to make sense now. I shall have his territory! I shall, I shall!"

"There!" She smiled broadly. "That's my Pilate talking!"

PART I CHAPTER 5:

NON-CONFORMITY AND ROMANCE

Embrace your uniqueness.

\---Kobi Yamada

I love her too, but our neuroses just don't match.

\---Arthur Miller

As he entered his room, he found Manaheem still there, waiting for him. The latter had been casually perusing the scrolls of law and prophecy which lined one of the walls of the spacious room. Now, it was Manaheem's turn to look up.

"Reading up on Jewish belief, eh, Manaheem?"

"Yes, and finding it quite interesting. So, this is what we Jews are supposed to believe?"

"Of course it is! You should know by now!"

"I guess I should. I never really got into it that much. It never bothered me after I decided to be done with tradition. I don't know why I'm bothering now, except for want of anything else to do. But, like I said, it is interesting. For example, the laws about adultery are very strict. Were you aware of that?"

"Of course I'm aware of that. What are you driving at?"

"Just a word to the wise, as they say. I saw how you looked at your brother's wife when they were leaving earlier. Lucky for you, Samantha was fixing her hair and didn't notice. You should be more careful, brother dear. Remember you are married."

Herod sighed, "I know, Manaheem. But is there anything that says I can't look?"

"Not really. But looks can lead to other things. But, forget it. It's just a word of warning. I was going to mention another thing I find interesting in these books. I hadn't fully realized there was so much about the Messiah's coming and the like. I wonder where you Edomites fit in."

"Would you like some more wine?"

"No, thank you."

"Well, you won't mind if I do, will you?"

"I'd say from the looks of you, you've had quite enough already. But, suit yourself. It's your house and your body."

Herod pulled hard on the cord. "Linus! Linus! Oh, there you are. Bring me a large glass of wine, will you!"

After the servant left, Manaheem asked, "Well, how did things go at Pilate's place?"

"Terrible! Or I suppose I should say 'wonderful.' At least I finally found out his true sentiments. The fool! I do believe he actually hates me!" With this, Herod slumped into his chair.

"That wouldn't be too hard to do, you know," replied Manaheem, propping his feet up on the table.

Herod lurched forward and peered bleary-eyed at Manaheem. "Did I ask you?" Then, he slumped back in his chair again. "Well, anyway, he called me a stupid tyrant and said he often wondered why he followed my 'stupid' suggestions. 'Stupid' he called them!"

"Well, you said you didn't trust him."

"Yes, and now I despise him! He can't be trusted. He's a real fool! I used that word before jokingly in connection with him, but now, I couldn't be more serious. I think you'd better go ahead and get that group of conspirators together as soon as possible."

At this, Manaheem arose and walked casually over to the left wall. Leaning against it, he replied, "And, what am I going to get out of all this anyway?"

"Well! For a man who stands against the materialism of our age, you're pretty concerned about money."

"Well, I have to eat too, you know. And there are other things I could be doing with my time."

"So, you are concerned about money! Well, I shall make it well worth your while. Say 200 pieces of silver, half when you begin and half when the job's done."

Manaheem scratched his chin, thoughtfully. "That's no small sum. I could use the money. I guess I could use the exercise too. As for the right or wrong of either side, I'm neutral, of course. Both you and Pilate are nothing but puppet despots, both of you blindly following Caesar's wishes. It will be quite interesting to see what happens when a horseshoe is thrown into this well-run mechanism, so to speak. Yes, brother dear, I'll do it. I'll be your man behind the scenes. I only hope for your sake that the whole thing doesn't blow up in your face."

"You see to your part and leave the worrying to me!" Linus entered carrying a large goblet. "Ah, here's the wine. A toast to the success of the insurrection!"

As Herod downed the wine, Manaheem scratched his head thoughtfully. "Say, Pilate's wife didn't have anything to do with what happened tonight, did she?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." Manaheem smiled as he seated himself again. "They say that sometimes a woman is the real power behind a man."

"Well, now that I think about it, she had everything to do with it. She's the one who started things rolling by saying that Pilate had just told her that I was a tyrant, and then asking him if that wasn't right. She kept it up too, egging him on until he had no choice but to say the same things himself."

"Ah, yes, but he'd probably said them to her a million times before, and wished he'd had the courage to say them to you. A man will tell a woman lots of things he won't tell anyone else."

Herod placed the wineglass back on the table. "You sound like you talk from experience."

"Well, as a matter of fact-- Did I ever tell you about Claressa and me?"

"No, you never did. You do delight in old memories, don't you, Manaheem?"

He shrugged. "I find them quite interesting."

"Well then, are you sure you won't have some wine? It goes well with old memories."

"No, thank you. I know when I've had enough."

"Well, go ahead, then! Tell me about this Claressa. Was she the one you married while I was away on my campaign in Gaul?"

"She's the one."

Herod reached once more for the goblet. "And, as I remember, you were divorced by the time I'd returned." He took another sip. "I never did find out what happened. You weren't too keen on talking about it at the time, as I recall."

"Well, it's been quite some time now. I had espoused my belief in non-conformity but was not yet bold in proclaiming it. Then I met her. I first saw her at the marketplace. Her strange beauty and air of aloofness caught my attention immediately. She had just finished her shopping and was loaded down with packages. I offered to relieve her of her burden by carrying them to her carriage. She informed me that she had no carriage, but had walked thus far, and could, as well, walk back. But I could see that she was tired, and, after some pointed persuasion on my part, she gave in and allowed me to drive her home. There was something strange about her. Somehow her manner and bearing bespoke one of noble Roman birth, although her dress was not exactly the latest style, and it seemed a bit odd that she should be without conveyance. She first remarked of the strangeness of my appearance and that of my chariot, but I wanted to turn the conversation back to her. 'And you are dressed rather strangely for a person of nobility.' She started. "'You are from a noble Roman family, aren't you?' I ventured.

"'Why, yes. Actually, I'm a senator's daughter. But, however could you tell?'

"'Oh, there's just something about you. I'm from a royal family myself. Royalty and nobility are closely aligned and should be able to recognize one another. But why would you be without a carriage? And why are you dressed in this way?'

"My heart suspected– yes, hoped for– the answer, and I was glad when it came. 'I voluntarily gave up some of the luxuries of the empty noble life. You might call me a non-conformist.'

"My ears perked up and my heart began to pound. 'A nonconformist! How interesting! How interesting, indeed! For I myself do aspire to the same. Thus, my strange appearance and that of my chariot. I still find it necessary to have a carriage, but I figure it might as well be as different as possible.'

"'Well, it certainly is that,' she agreed. Then her eyes lit up as she said: 'I hold to the principal of non-conformity with all my heart, although I'm not as bold as I should be at times in standing for it.'

"'One does need boldness,' I ventured, 'especially in times like these.'

"My heart was gladdened that I'd finally found someone to share my persuasion – and someone so sweet and nice as she. I went to the marketplace every Wednesday, when she did her weekly shopping, and offered to drive her home. She readily accepted, and we soon got to know each other quite well, or so it seemed, through our conversations on those trips. Then, I asked her out for dinner a few times, and before I knew it, we were getting serious. She told me she had given up years ago on trying to find someone to share her nonconformist views. And now, here I was.

"Within a year, we were married. Claressa, aside from being the joy of my life, was a great help to me. It was she who taught me how to really stand up to people and tell them what I thought. Oh, she did the standing up herself for a while, but I soon caught on, and though I floundered a little at first, with her at my side, improvement came quickly and easily.

"We had a great life together, Claressa and I, for a brief span of two years. Then, I don't know exactly what happened, but somehow, the relationship began to deteriorate. I guess our respective individual traits kept coming through more and more, and we began getting on each other's nerves. I guess we should have realized it would never have lasted with two people who were so strongly individualistic. Nothing I did would please her, and the declining state of my finances didn't help either. Finally, after another half year of miserably attempted togetherness, we were divorced."

"That's sure sad, Manaheem," said Herod, staring into the now empty glass.

"Yes, it is. But one good thing came out of it. She taught me to stand on my own, and I've stood ever since. I never found anyone else like her, and I know I never will."

"It's a very touching story, Manaheem. Are you sure you won't have some wine?"

"Well, perhaps one glass would help. I'm glad you appreciate my story, Herod. I doubted that you would."

Herod rang again for Linus. "And why should I not appreciate a touching love story like that?"

"Why, because of the element of non-conformity."

"Oh, that? I paid it no attention."

"But that was the whole point. I am a non-conformist, made a little stronger in my non-conformity by dear Claressa. You, dear Herod, are a strict conformist, just like our father. Sometimes, to think about it makes me sick. You are so conformed that you smell of it."

"Really, Manaheem! Must we go through all this again? I know your position."

"Well, maybe you need to hear it again. Apparently, it hasn't done you any good. Really, Herod, what is there about this world that attracts you so? Oh, you think you're so smart, don't you? You like a lot of attention, so you hold big parties at which you are the guest of honor, and everyone looks up to you and toasts your health. Big deal! You drink and drink until your head is spinning in rhythm with those dances you delight in watching. And the next morning you'll have a hangover, like the one you'll probably have tomorrow morning. Drinking, dances, parties! Is that all you're living for, Herod? I live in silent contemplation. Now and then I do some writing, whenever an idea hits me, but mainly I spend what free time I have thinking. I think about the world. I think about people the likes of you, and it makes me sick. And my heart cries out, 'is there no answer?' But then, I must check myself lest I think too lowly of folk like you. Yes, I'm sure I would even end up hating you and your wretchedness if I let myself go. But, I tell myself that this must not be, for you too are human. Again my heart cries out. It cries out into eternity itself: 'Is there no answer? There must be an answer somewhere! There must be some point– some purpose for existence! But where is it? Is there no answer? Is there no answer?'"

PART I CHAPTER 6:

ANOTHER SEEKER

Most men live lives of quiet desperation.

\---Henry David Thoreau

The man without a purpose is like a ship without a rudder--a waif, a nothing, a no man.

\---Thomas Carlyle

Manaheem's question has echoed in minds of many men.

Men search

For fame, for pleasure,

For contentment without measure,

For earth's vain illusive treasure,

Men still search.

For something firm and lasting,

With life's temporal ills contrasting,

And it's fleeting joys surpassing,

Men still search.

Barabbas was searching, though he might not have realized it, and it was his searching that made him take such careful note of Manaheem's words when this mysterious stranger visited his shop. The fact of Manaheem's searching is evident from the last words of the preceding chapter. Pilate was searching, and also his wife with him. She, in fact, really thought (though mistakenly) that she had the answer: more power and authority (take Herod's place).

Let me then introduce yet another in the list of searchers – one more among the ranks of those who, though they may even recognize and name the true object of their search, know not its true source, nor where it can be found.

As far as this world's goods are concerned, he was quite poor. His family was poor. He'd been poor all his life. Yet, along with his physical poverty, he was spiritually poor as well. There was no real peace or happiness in his life, and he felt this dearth immensely. He had sought for peace and happiness in many ways, such as seeking new friends, losing himself in books, or in his own imagination, getting involved in games and song. He even tried getting drunk once, on a friend's money. Nothing seemed to help. The object of his search always seemed to elude him, like a speck of light, dancing and beckoning in the darkness, now a rod, now a yard, now a foot, now a few inches distant, then vanishing to leave him in total darkness of heart.

Due to the untimely demise of his father, he was set on his own at an early age without schooling or knowledge of a trade. His initial attempts to find work met with no success. He kept trying desperately, lying about his qualifications, and thus, acquiring a lack of that self-respect and poise for which employers look. Attributing his inevitable failure to that enigma, fate, he took what to him was the only way left. He inflicted upon himself the weary life of a mendicant, trusting hopefully, and often disparagingly, in those who passed him by (a hundred million passing in a hundred housed day, or so it seemed) for every scrap of food, every shred of clothing.

What kind of man the mendicant

Who on the corner begs,

Who has no decent clothes to wear,

But sits in shreds and rags?

Has he no pride, this human being,

To lean on others so?

What makes a man a mendicant?

How can he stoop so low?

What kind of man the mendicant?

Look inward you who ask;

For every man's a mendicant

Behind his haughty mask.

What kind of men be they that pass

A hundred times a day,

And often never bother

But go on their merry way?

The doctor, and the lawyer,

And the merchant, and the tailor,

The tinker,

And the sweeper,

And the thinker

And the sailor.

Yes, all these and many more

Do pass the beggar by

Without a gift or word to say,

Without a thought or sigh.

A hundred million passing

In a hundred houred day!

And so it went, as day by day he managed to eke out a meager living. Several times, he changed his location in an effort to determine the best spot.

It was during one of these changes of locale that he met the older beggar. The latter, a short, thin, gray-haired old mendicant, with a withered look about him, was sitting at his usual spot begging when he caught sight of the lengthy young man lumbering toward him. Noticing the cup in the young man's hand, as well as his shabby dress, and thus surmising that he must be of the same profession, he looked at him inquiringly and called out, "Say, son, what are you doing?"

"I'm looking for a good spot to beg. I see you got this one already."

"But, son, this is no life for one so young as you."

"I know, sir, but I could do no better."

The old man looked shocked. "You mean to tell me a healthy young man like you can't find a job in Jerusalem these days? What are things coming to?"

"It may sound strange, but it's true. I guess times are really bad."

The old man scratched his head. "So, how you been doing?"

"Well, not too good, so far."

"Well, this spot seems to be pretty good so far. Want to share it, and we'll split th' take?"

The young man shrugged. "We can give it a try and see how it works out."

"By th' way, what's your name?"

"Timotheus," the youth replied, "and yours?"

"Lucas."

"Well, Lucas, let's hope for a good day."

"No, Timotheus, let's hope for a tremendous day."

"Yes, Lucas, a tremendous day!"

PART I CHAPTER 7:

THE PLAN

Time is much too short to be living someone else's life.

\---Kobi Yamada

Meanwhile in Caesarea, Pilate and his wife were enjoying another sumptuous meal.

"This is really good."

"Yes, Dora has truly out-done herself."

They ate in silence for a while, enjoying the repast. Then, as they were almost finishing, Portia asked, "So, tell me, dear, how was your day today?"

"Oh, the usual. Lots of boring cases and pleading faces."

"Did you stand up to the people? Did you give them what was coming to them? Or did you give in to them?"

"Well, in some cases--"

"I thought so! Pontius Pilate, you have got to stand up and be a man! When are you going to stop letting people push you around? And what about that no-good tyrant, Herod?"

Having finished, Pilate put down his utensils and reached for his wineglass. "What about him? I haven't heard a thing from him since that visit he paid us. Hope I don't either. Anyway, I'm through listening to him, the old buzzard!"

Portia reached for her wineglass. "Well, I'm glad to see your attitude hasn't changed in that regard since his visit."

"He called me a fool, didn't he? No one shall call me a fool and get away with it!"

Portia's eyes lit up as she exclaimed: "Now you're talking! But, what are you going to do about it?"

"I said I shall have his territory, and I shall!"

"Excellent! That's my Pilate talking! But, how will you go about it?"

Pilate put his finger to his lips. "Good question. I can't just take my troops and invade his territory. Caesar might not like that, and I could end up with nothing."

"True, true," she said sadly. Then her eyes lightened again. "But, speaking of Caesar, what if we write the old guy a letter?"

"I think I see what you mean." Pilate's eyes also began to brighten. "We could write Caesar a letter about Herod."

"--A letter telling him how bungling and inefficient Herod is getting."

He scratched his head. "He's not really bungling and inefficient. He's just tyrannical."

"So what?" she smiled broadly. "How is Caesar to know? Do you think he will come all the way from Rome to check?"

"And if he writes Herod--?"

"Of course, Herod would deny it. Who would admit to being bungling and inefficient, even it were true?"

"So it would be his word against ours."

"Unfortunately." Portia scratched her head. Then her eyes lit up more brightly than before. "--Unless we could manage to get several letters to Caesar from different people, citing actual cases."

"You mean, forge letters?"

"An excellent idea! I always said you had a good head on your shoulders, Pilate. Yes, and in fact, we wouldn't have to send one from us at all. After all, he'd be more likely to listen to the common people on such a matter, wouldn't you think?"

"It seems like it," he agreed. "But, how would we find out Caesar's reaction?"

"That's a good point. I hadn't thought of it. Of course, I guess it wouldn't hurt to send one from us, stating that we'd heard some general complaints and thought he should know. That way we'd know by his reply to us what he plans to do about the matter."

"Excellent thinking, Portia, dear." He touched her on the shoulder. "I'm sure you will do a fine job with the letters."

"Well, I thought you would at least help."

"Oh, I'm too busy and have too much on my mind with these cases. No, I would think you could handle it quite well, my dear. It'll give you something to do while you're waiting for me to come home every day."

"Alright, dear, I'll write the letters."

"Good! Shall we drink a toast to the success of our venture?"

"Great idea! I'll tell Dora to bring some more wine."

As she got up to ring for the servant, he turned and glanced out of the window. He noticed a pageboy coming toward the door. "Oh dear, what could this be? Probably another message from Herod – another one of his silly suggestions." By now, the page had reached the door. Giving a few loud knocks, he entered. "Well, boy, what is it?"

"A message from Herod, sir."

"And what does that blubbering idiot want now?"

"He wishes to suggest sir, that, in order to meet the need for more revenue in the territory, you raise the temple tax."

"Oh, he does, does he? Well, you tell that fox to mind his own business. The people are discontented enough without me raising any more taxes. And besides, you can tell Herod he should stick to ruling Galilee and Perea. I'll take care of Judea. That's what I'm here for. Tell him not to send me any more of his stupid suggestions."

"Yes, sir."

As the boy was leaving, Portia put her arm around Pilate. "You really told him, that time! I'm proud of you, dear. I'm real proud of the way you handled that!" She backed off and put one finger to her lip. "--Although the idea of raising the tax was not really a bad idea." She walked toward him again smiling. "But you sure put that fox in his place! Now if you could only be that firm with the people!"

Pilate was puzzled. "Do you think I should tax the people more?"

She smiled. "You know we could use the extra revenue. But, you have to do what you think is right, Pilate. Think about it, decide, and then don't let anyone change you! Be strong, my Pilate, be strong!"

PART I CHAPTER 8:

THE ASSIGNMENT

L _ife is something like a trumpet. If you don't put anything in it, you don't get anything out._

\---W.C. Handy

It had been another long, tiresome ride, and he was hot and thirsty, as were his horses. He had just drained the last of his water from its container. Thus, as he pulled his horses up to the hitching post and murky watering trough close to the blacksmith shop, he was hoping the smith would have some clear cold water. Some customers were just leaving the shop as he entered. He nodded coolly to them and they returned the gesture, some staring at his strange appearance.

Barabbas looked up from his work to see who was entering his shop. As he caught sight of the mysterious stranger, his face brightened. He stood up and extended his hand in greeting. "Well, well! We meet again!"

"Did I not tell you we would? Incidentally, may I trouble you for some water?"

"No trouble at all." The blacksmith disappeared and soon reappeared, carrying a large jar of water. "Excuse the container. It's all I have."

As he sipped the water, Manaheem glanced toward the door, hoping that no one else would enter. Having drunk a sufficient amount, he placed the jar on the counter. Then, leaning on one elbow, he sighed and smiled at the blacksmith. "Thank you, friend. I needed that. It was a long ride and my supply just ran out."

"That's all I have, but glad I could be of help. But, you should be able to get some for your journey back at the well outside the market."

Manaheem picked up the large jar, took another big gulp of the water and set the jar down again. "Thanks again! Now, tell me, how has business been?"

"Not all that good, really. Seems people aren't travelin' as much as they used to – to wear out their horseshoes, I mean. And there's just no call at all for these fancier items. I do hope you came back for that sword."

"Sorry to disappoint you, friend, but I certainly couldn't afford it right now. Things are bad for me too. I probably should get my horses re-shod pretty soon, but I can't afford that right now either."

"I certainly know what you mean," agreed the smith. "Seems times are just bad. Seems like th' little profit I do manage to make gets eaten up by them confounded taxes."

"That's this government for you– tax the poor man to death!" Manaheem gulped down some more of the water, set the jar down again, and added, "And then, they don't do anything useful with the money!"

"They sure don't, do they?" agreed Barabbas.

"Seems to me," ventured Manaheem leaning in over the counter, "like it's that fellow, Pilate who's the cause of it all."

"He and Herod are both tyrants and puppets of Rome."

"True, true. But I heard that lately, Pilate has been acting more or less on his own. He's trying to raise more revenue locally so that he will look better in the eyes of Caesar."

Barabbas stroked his beard. "Really?"

"Oh, he's a tricky one, that Pilate. Rumors are he'd like to have Herod's position as well as his own. Then things would really be bad."

"Indeed! I wasn't aware of all this. But anyway, like you said th' last time you were here, something oughta be done."

Now it was Manaheem's face that lit up. "So, you've been thinking about what we talked about last time?"

"I have indeed. And th' more I think about it, th' more disturbed I get, and th' more I realize something must be done!"

"You're absolutely right, my friend. Something must be done! And you're just the man to do it."

The smith drew back in amazement. "Me?"

"Yes, you!"

"But I'm just an ignorant blacksmith!"

"You are the one– perhaps the only one in this city at this moment who has caught the vision so strongly and sees so clearly the desperate need for action."

"But, you said there are probably many more here who feel this way."

"True," agreed Manaheem, picking up the water jar again. "But they do not, as yet, feel strongly enough to act."

"B-but, what can I do?"

"Talk to people– your friends– your trusted friends only. Find out their true feelings, and try to enlist them in the cause."

"The cause?"

"The cause of revolution, or insurrection, against the ever-expanding menace of Pilate's tyranny. When you have gained a sufficient group, you must train them and prepare them for an attack on Pilate's Jerusalem praetorium when he comes here for his usual visit during Passover season. I'll give you whatever advice and help I can."

"You mean--?" His words were slow and halting. "You really mean you want me to form and train a group of insurrectionists?"

"Exactly!"

"But, why wouldn't you be the one to do it?"

"I'm from out of town. I traveled a great distance to come here. You live closer to the situation. And besides, you probably know more people than I do."

At this point, the door opened and some would-be customers entered. Manaheem finished his water and set the jar down again as they were approaching. In a voice all could hear, he said, "Thanks for the water, friend, and the conversation. I really must be going."

Then, in a quieter voice, directed only to Barabbas, "But, do think about what I told you. And, do be careful." In a moment he was gone.

************

Again, he was deep in thought as he approached his home. Again, he was debating mentally the relative value of telling or not telling his wife. Again, his thoughts were interrupted by the screaming of his dear children.

"Daddy! Daddy! You're home!"

"Shalom, Daddy!"

"Shalom yourselves, you little bunches o' joy!"

"Did j' bring me somepin', Daddy? Did j'?"

"Sorry, sweetheart. Daddy's been so busy lately that--"

And again his beautiful wife appeared, smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh, there you are, you big brute! Come over here, will y'!" Again they embraced and their lips met. "Mmmm!"

"Mmm! Say, how soon before supper's ready? I'm starved!"

"It'll be ready in just a few minutes, dear. Come on, sit down and wash your tired feet." She returned to the kitchen.

"It's my turn t' help, now, Daddy!"

"Alright, Caleb."

"And," rang out Deborah's voice from the kitchen, "It's Ruth's turn to get your slippers. Now, no bickerin' this time!"

"Yeah, Daddy, it's my turn t' get y'r slippers."

"Alright, then, children, let's get on with it! An' hurry up with that supper, Deborah! I'm starved!"

The supper was eaten without much conversation, each person busily putting away his food. After supper, Barabbas played with the children while Deborah worked in the kitchen. Then, Deborah took the children and put them to bed, after which she returned to sit next to her husband. "Well, dear," she asked, "how was your day?"

"Oh, th' same old thing. Business was really slow. Th' sale of horseshoes has really fallen off lately. Guess people aren't travelin' as much as they used to." He sighed and leaned his head on his hand. "You know, Deborah, what with th' taxes bein' as high as they are, it's gettin' harder than ever to break even." She smiled at him. "Well, dear, I'm sure we'll make it somehow. We always have."

"Yes," he sighed again, "we always have. But who's to say we'll continue to do so? If things keep on the way they are---"

"Th good LORD will see us through, dear. He always has, hasn't He?"

"Look, Deborah, I believe in th' good LORD just as much as you do. But th' good LORD never intended for us t' close our eyes and be blinded to what's going on around us, now did He?"

"Really, Barabbas? And just what is going on around us so much, anyhow?"

"You know! The stupid tyrannical government we're under —that Caesar there in Rome and his two puppets, Herod and Pilate. They're not out for th' good of people! None of 'em are! And---"

"Really, Barabbas! Must we go through all this again? I'm well aware of your feelings about the government."

"But, Deborah, dear, you need to wake up and grasp th' seriousness of the situation. Things 'r' gettin' worse all the time!"

"Aw, you're just sayin' that! You don't know."

"No, it's true! Why, just today I heard that Pilate has decided to take th' raising of local taxes into his own hands, to try and make himself look good to those above him. And that's not all. His real ambition is to have Herod's position as well as his own."

"Really? And, where did you hear this?"

"Well, it's common knowledge in th' city."

"First time I ever heard it. But anyway," she shrugged her shoulders, "So what?"

"What do you mean, 'so what'? He'll be adding all kinds of extra taxes on us before we know it. And when we can't pay 'em--"

"Oh, Barabbas, you worry too much! I told you th' good LORD will take care of us."

But, the big man paid no attention to his wife's rebuke. He continued talking as if he had not heard her. "And if he should get to take Herod's place, he'd have even more power than he does now and things would be even worse than they are. People would have no recourse at all."

"Well, dear," she patted his hand, "there's nothing we can do about it, except t' pray, and leave it in th' hands of th' good LORD."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Deborah, dear. Sometimes y' have to do more than pray. Sometimes y' have to put feet t' your prayers."

"And just what do you mean by that?" She scowled.

"Ah, why, nothing, dear, nothing! It's just a proverb, that's all. Come on, let's get ready for bed."

PART I CHAPTER 9:

TO LOVE AGAIN-?

Love suffers long and is kind.

\---I Cor. 13:4

It was a huge brick well, and, from the length of the rope, apparently quite deep. As Manaheem filled his water container, his eyes wandered involuntarily through the crowd of people going in and out of the marketplace. Suddenly, his eyebrows raised, as he thought he spotted a familiar face. Could it be? It had been such a long time. He decided to go and see. The closer he got the more certain he was. It was she indeed. She failed to notice him, intent on the packages in her hand. She was starting to make her way out of the crowd when he caught up with her. He tapped her gently on the shoulder. She turned, startled, and dropped two of her packages. He picked them up for her and smiled. "It's been a long time, Claressa"

"Manaheem!" She sounded surprised, but, her face seemed to light up as she spoke his name. "Manaheem! What are you doing here?"

"I had some business to take care of in the city. And, what are you doing here?"

"I live here now."

"So, this is where you got to?"

"It is."

He stroked his mustache. "How do you like it here?"

"Just fine. It's a nice town."

"Seems to be a bit crowded," he ventured.

"It does at times, but I don't let that bother me."

"Well, tell me, how have you been?"

"Just fine, just fine. And you?"

"Just fine. Oh, business has fallen off a bit lately, but it's bound to pick up again soon."

They stood there for a few minutes in embarrassed silence. Then she spoke. "It's no use fooling ourselves, Manaheem. I don't know about you, but I've been miserable since I've been away from you."

He sighed. "I've been pretty miserable myself, whenever I allowed myself to think about it." He paused. "I have missed you, Claressa!"

"And, I've missed you, Manaheem!"

He sighed again. "All those little things which we allowed to come between us--"

"They were really quite silly, weren't they?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, when you think about it."

"I've regretted our divorce many times." She paused, smiling. "I'm so glad to see you again."

He sighed. "Oh, Claressa, do you think if we tried it again, it just might work?"

Her face brightened even more. "With what we both have learned from the experience, I'm almost certain that it would."

"We'd each have to be willing to give in to the other."

"Oh, Manaheem, I'm willing now to give in to you on anything."

"O' Claressa! I know I acted quite childish before and--"

"It wasn't all your fault, you know."

He sighed again. "I'm sure I was more to blame than you. But let's not stand around here all day. My chariot's over there by the well. We can talk about it more on the way to your house."

"I don't live very far from here."

"Good. You can show me the way. Come on! I'll help you with these packages."

As they rode, Claressa gave directions to her house. Having understood them, Manaheem resumed the conversation. "I tried to forget about you– to push you out of my mind by becoming overly busy. But, I never could forget about you completely. You were always there, somewhere in the corners of my mind."

"You've been on my mind constantly, and not just in the corners. Oh, Manaheem, I was foolish to think I could live without you. I'm sure glad we met again. It must be fate."

"Perhaps the LORD had something to do with it."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't know you believed in God."

"I'm not sure, really, what I believe. I've been reading some of the Hebrew Scriptures lately, and I find them quite interesting. I need to think it through more, but at this point, I do lean towards belief in the LORD, God."

"Well, I'm sure I could go along with anything you believed. I love you, Manaheem. I didn't know how much before. Oh," she pointed, "there's my house."

Arriving at the humble brick structure, he pulled on the reins, and the horses stopped. He jumped down and tied the horses to a tree. Then, he jumped back into the chariot and put his arms around Claressa. "I love you too, Claressa," he said. Their lips met, and for a moment they were lost in each other's arms.

"I need you, Manaheem."

"We need each other, Claressa How foolish I was to think I could ever forget you." Again their lips met for a moment. It was Manaheem who broke the embrace. He wanted to continue it– to hold on to that moment forever. But, a strong point of practicality forced itself upon his mind and overruled his emotions. "But, Claressa, what about our finances? Right now, I'm barely managing to get by. I'm sure your savings aren't enough to support both of us. Anyway, I wouldn't want it that way."

The light faded from her eyes, and she slowly nodded her head. "I guess you're right there, dear. That could be a problem."

"It was one of the problems we faced before, remember?"

"We do have to be practical, don't we?"

He sighed again, this time longer than before. "Unfortunately."

"But, somehow, it seems love should be able to triumph over such things."

She jumped down from the chariot, and he followed.

"You're right, it should. But, the question is: 'Can it?'"

There was a pause, and then Manaheem spoke again. "I'll tell you what, dear, --it so happens that I am working on something now which has some real potential. And if that doesn't work out, I'm sure I'll think of something else. I'm sure I'll be able to get some money somewhere, someway."

"Let's hope so. Just what is it you're working on?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that just now. You'll find out when the time comes."

"Oh, Manaheem, you always were the secretive one."

"All I can tell you is that it's something big. And now, I really must get back to Tiberius. I'll see you later."

As he handed her her packages from the back of the chariot, she asked, "Do you get down here often?"

"Somewhat, as a part of what I'm working on." He smiled. "I'm sure it will be more often now."

Their lips met again in a final parting gesture. He untied the horses and jumped in. The strange-looking chariot was on its way once more.

PART I CHAPTER 10: THE GANG

He who has courage and faith will never perish in misery.

\---Ann Frank

It was easier than he thought, once he managed to get himself started. At first, he was a little worried that some of his friends might disagree and perhaps report him to the authorities. Even so, he knew he had to take the chance. Each time he did, his heart was in his throat, as he expected the worst. But, each time he was surprised to find that the person agreed heartily with what he was saying, but had been afraid to express his own opinion. In each case, the response was the same: "Do you really think we could do something about it?"

Then he would ask, "Would you be willing to join a band of insurrectionists to go up against Pilate?"

Always the reply would come, "If you can find enough others who are willing, you can count me in too!"

There were a few who, due to other obligations, age or health, refused to join, but all told him they would be with him, at least in spirit.

He kept asking, and the number of active participants kept growing, as some of his contacts volunteered the names of their friends. The group grew from five to ten to twenty-five to thirty-five to fifty- seven. Surely that would be enough dedicated men to withstand Pilate's praetorian guards. Perhaps he should try for three more to make it even.

Of course, he would have to circle back and revisit the ones he had visited first to reassure them that there would be enough men. But, that could wait until the morning. It was getting late now, and Deborah would be waiting for him. Oh yes, Deborah! Again, the thoughts of what he knew her response would be returned to plague his mind. Should he tell her? Certainly, he would have to sooner or later. Perhaps he could get her to see the necessity of what he was doing. Well, he could think this out later.

As he walked home, the last rays of the sun's light glimmered on the leaves of the trees and grew steadily dimmer. The crickets were chirping loudly, but he didn't hear them. His mind was alive with ideas, plans, and strategies. He could see the praetorium clearly in his mind's eye. He strained to remember every detail of construction, every means of access. He was planning the positioning of portions of his little army at various entrance ways. He thought to himself that he had never realized he could be a military general _. It's amazing_ , he thought, _what one can do, if one sets his mind to it._

Just then, his thoughts were interrupted by a tug at his robe and a loud cry of "Alms! Alms!" He looked down to see two beggars, one young, and one old, groveling in the dust beneath him.

Displeased at the interruption of his thoughts, he moved his leg as if to kick them. As they recoiled backward, he shouted, "Be gone! Let me alone! I'm probably just about as poor as you, and I've got a wife and children to feed." But as he turned to go, their pleading eyes followed him. "Besides," he added, turning abruptly to avoid their gaze, "my mind is too busy with planning tonight to be bothered with the likes of you." He walked on, half talking to himself, but loud enough to still be heard by the beggars. "Besides, who knows? There may soon come a time, if all goes well, when there'll be no more poor people."

PART I CHAPTER 11: REPENTANCE-?

Without God, life makes no sense.

\---Andrei Bitov

The two were somewhat stunned by the abruptness of the big man's reply.

"Who is he, Lucas?"

"How should I know? I never seen him before."

"He sure was rude! Do y' think he really is as poor as we are?"

"I doubt it." The older man scratched his scraggly beard. "He was probably just sayin' that t' keep from givin' us anything. Some people are sure stingy with their money!"

"But he said he was plannin' somethin'. 'Wonder what it might be."

The older man shrugged. "Who cares?"

"But, why did he say that about there not bein' any poor people one day? Do y' think it could possibly be true?"

"Of course not! It's impossible. Anyway, let's not get carried away with fancy dreams of what could be. Let's concentrate on how t' keep from starvin' t' death here and now. This spot doesn't seem t' be doin' so good. We haven't had a decent take all week, and our food supply is runnin' out. Let's try and find us a better spot tomorrow. Whata y' say?"

"Good idea, Lucas. An' speakin' of food, I'm gettin' pretty hungry."

"So am I." The older man opened a cloth sack that was lying on the ground beside them and pulled out a few pieces of fish and a loaf of bread. "Looks like we got only enough fer t'night. Let's enjoy it while it lasts, and hope we find a good spot t'morrow."

The meager evening meal was eaten in silence. Then, Lucas spoke again. "Come t' think of it though, I met another really weird fellow some time back. At first he didn't give me any money either. Just asked a lot o' stupid questions about what I thought o' th' government, and tried t' tell me how bad a shape it was in. I told 'im I didn't know nothin' about th' government, nor care nothin' either. He just started t' walk away, till I coughed and held my hand out again. Then he did drop a few coins."

"All this sounds kinda strange to me."

"Yeah, come t' think of it." The older man's speech slowed somewhat, as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "With first him, and now this one, maybe somethin' strange is goin' on."

"Yeah!" Excitement rang in Timotheus' voice as he spoke. "It sure seems like it, doesn't it?" The thought of something new and mysterious was a welcome addition to an otherwise humdrum life.

But, his excitement was not to be shared by his partner. "But, like I said, it surely doesn't concern us. So what do we care anyway, huh?"

"But, perhaps there's a chance, Lucas – just a small chance that it could affect us."

"There's that 'could' again! Like I said, let's concentrate on now, and let whatever it is take care of itself. If it's gonna happen, it'll happen, with or without our thinkin' one whit more about it."

"True. But, it's enough t' make y' wonder a little."

"Well, do your wonderin' in your dreams. Let's get some sleep. We got a big day ahead of us."

************

As the sun's rays beat upon the dusty roads, the two set out once again, in search of a new and more prosperous location, asking alms of any person they found along the way. Yesterday's events and questions were soon forgotten in the light of today's urgency. Their supply of food was gone and they were in desperate need of a good take in order to replenish it.

By noon, the pangs of hunger had set in. For the first portion of the day, their search had proved uneventful, and they were feeling quite discouraged and frustrated, not to mention hungry. They stopped at a food store and begged the owner for something to eat, but he refused, saying, "Come back when you got some money!"

Suddenly, as they were wearily pressing on in the middle of the afternoon, Timotheus caught sight of a crowd of people some distance ahead. "Say, we just may be blessed after all. Look at that crowd up there!"

"I'm sure glad you got better eyes than I do, son."

The crowd was indeed a large one, as they confirmed upon getting closer. "It makes y' wonder," observed Timotheus, "what could be attracting a crowd this big."

"Well, let's not wonder. Let's take advantage of it, whatever it is!"

As they drew closer, they could hear a man's husky voice booming out loudly. Apparently, the crowd had gathered to hear some rabbi or prophet speak. As they infiltrated the crowd, they were able to get a view of the speaker. He was a tall man, dressed in camel's hair, with a girdle of leather around his waist. He was preaching about repentance, urging the people to turn away from sin.

Timotheus' eyes were fixed upon this strange- looking preacher. The man's words seemed to be speaking directly to him, revealing the sinfulness which lie buried within his own soul. He was reminded of all the times he had lied, been needlessly angry, lusted and many other things. Perhaps sin was his main problem, and he just hadn't realized it before now. Could it be?

But a rap on the arm from Lucas brought his contemplation to an abrupt halt. "Come on! Did y' forget why we came? Let's get busy!"

As they went through the crowd, asking alms, Timotheus still managed to catch parts of the stranger's message. Although many of the people also had their attention focused sharply on the speaker, most did not mind being interrupted for a brief moment and most gave generously.

"Well, we did quite well," commented Lucas, after counting the money.

"Yes! We'll have t' come back here again."

"Hopefully that strange-lookin' preacher'll come here again. Come on! Let's go get some food."

On their way back to the store to purchase the food, they talked. It was Lucas who began the conversation. "That guy sure did draw th' people."

"Yeah! I wonder who he was," mused Timotheus.

Lucas scratched his head. "I believe someone in th' crowd said his name is John."

"And who, I wonder, is th' one he was talkin' about– th' one who he said would come after him."

"He said someone will come after him?"

"Didn't you hear?"

"I wasn't really payin' attention. But, it's probably somethin' else t' do with politics, like those two we were talkin' about yesterday –things that don't concern us anyway."

"But, what he was sayin' about sin, that relates to all of us."

"I don't really see how it relates to us. We haven't done anything terrible, like murder someone, er somethin' like that. We don't even steal. We're honest beggars."

"---Playing on the sympathies of others. I've had some reservations about that. But, it seems it is the only thing we can do, so I guess there's no use t' question that. But, anyway, like th preacher said, those big sins aren't th' only sins there are. There are even sins of attitude, like regret, bitterness, anger, lust or coveting."

"You were really listening, weren't y'?" The older man stroked his beard. "But, should we really be concerned about it? –such poor folk as us? Doesn't it seem like God owes us somethin', anyhow? How can he expect us t' be perfect?"

Timotheus thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Anyway, there's th' store up ahead. I'll sure be glad t' get some food in my stomach."

"You and me both."

PART I CHAPTER 12:

FLESH AND SPIRIT

For the flesh lusts against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh.

_\---_ _Galatians 5:17a_

For the kingdom of God is not meant and drink...

\---Romans 14:17a

Meanwhile, Manaheem had been doing some heavy thinking: _To love or not to love? That is the question. For loving, it seems, must exert on one some pull toward the material realm. This is true even with a woman like Claressa, who is as much a confirmed nonconformist as I am myself. This may be part of the reason that our marriage fell apart previously. Perhaps the fault was with neither of us. Perhaps it was simply the fact that the demands of married life and every-day living brought too much pressure to bear upon the both of us and upon our non-conformity._

_On the other hand, perhaps we both could have given a little in certain areas, as the need called for, instead of trying to remain rigid._ _I_ _do love her, God knows. Just to see her is to love her. It can't be helped._ _I_ _thought for a while it could, but now I find myself being pulled once more into the web of love._

_But to love means to marry, or at least to live together, and to do so means that one must set one's goals on the obtaining of more material wealth._ _I_ _suppose that this is one area in which a compromise must be made with one's self if one is to remain sane. On the one hand, I desire to be as free as possible from the influence of the world system with its great emphasis on the material._ _I_ _have been doing business only because it has been necessary for my own personal survival. Now I shall have to start thinking in plural terms. Now it will be for our survival and for our happiness as well._

I do love her. No question about that. But I realize that this love is going to make me more concerned about material things than I have been.

However, I realize, try as one might, one could never be entirely free from the pull of the material and still live in this world. It takes a certain amount of this world's goods just to survive. And I suppose one can't go around as the ostrich with one's head in the sand all the time, trying to be spiritual at the expense of the physical.

I've found this out on the personal level. But then, after all, what is ultimate spiritual good? Does it really entail ignoring the physical? Or does it include the proper use of the physical for spiritual good? After all, our love is more than merely physical. It has a deeply spiritual side to it. Howbeit it is physical also. So then, in order to further and keep alive something that is both physical and spiritual, one must perhaps use the physical realm to some degree. And if we use it to further that which has in it a spiritual element, although being physical as well, does not the using of it then become a spiritual thing? At the very least, might we not conclude that in order to live and love in this world, which is mostly physical, we must be practical and learn to use the physical or material realm to the best advantage?

So then, perhaps I was wrong in trying to seek spirituality through avoidance of the material. Perhaps whatever Gods there are put us here in this material universe in order that we might learn to use it to the best advantage. Ah, but there's the trick– to learn to use it without being used by it. That's what I must try my best to do.

I suppose that having learned that, I shall have learned all I need to learn about the material realm, and shall be freer than before to pursue spiritual goals. Why had I not thought of this before?

O' Claressa, Claressa, my love, we shall have such a beautiful life together now, you and I. How beautiful indeed will be our new life, lived according to these, my newly learned principles of life!

_I'_ _m still wondering, however, just what ultimate spiritual good is, if, in fact, such a thing exists. If it does, I shall certainly try to find it. No, we shall try to find it together. They say that two heads are better than one. Well, what about two non-conformists? If there is spiritual truth to be found, I'm sure we can find it together, no matter what the cost._

_But now to the very practical matter at hand. How can I go about getting more money? Herod is paying me to mastermind the revolt against Pilate. But that will hardly be enough for us to start our life together._ _I_ _know! I'll blackmail Herod. Although Herod's secret affair with his brother Philip's wife is known in several circles, Herod himself doesn't know that it's known at all._ _I_ _saw them sneaking off together after that party the other week. So I can use this little incident as a wedge to get more money from Herod. Why not? Oh, dear me, here I am letting myself be corrupted by the material realm! Or am I? Actually, I'm simply taking advantage of the corruption of others. The trick, as I already noted, is to use the world without being used by it. So here I go._
PART I CHAPTER 13: PLANS

The proof of desire is pursuit.

\---Mike Murdock

A goal without a plan is just a wish.

\---Larry Elder

He had met with them several times now, since he had formed the group, closing the shop early and meeting in the home of one of the group members. So far, no plans had been made but the men were reminded of their purpose and of the atrocities of the government which were its inspiration. They would whisper cheers of "Down with the government!" Or "Down with Pilate!" (They whispered so as not to be heard by the neighbors or some patriotic passerby and have their cause stopped before it got started.)

This meeting was to be different. At this meeting tonight, some concrete plans would be discussed and decided upon. He came prepared with detailed drawings of the courtyard square replete with markings of all guard positions.

Several plans were purposed, but the one that was best soon became obvious. It developed out of the suggestions and questions of several of the group members. "If we break into groups and knock out each guard position in the courtyard more or less at the same time, it would prevent us from being shot at from around us and cut off any warning to the main Praetorian Guard."

"And then, we come back together to act as one big group to march on the praetorium itself."

"But, how are we going to get in, to begin with?"

"Simple. We go during the time of judgment posing as ordinary petitioners. Once we are in as part of the crowd, we wander away to the guard stations one at a time. In all that crowd, no one will notice."

"That's a great idea. Then, when we attack, perhaps some of the crowd might also decide to join with us."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the smith, surprised at the brilliance of the plan. "If everyone is agreed with this plan, we can adjourn."

Feeling that the evening had been a big success, he walked happily home to his family. On the way, however, he was again, plagued with the haunting question of whether or not to tell his dear wife about their plans. How much longer could he keep all of this hidden from her? He knew she would never fully understand, but perhaps that was something he would have to live with. As his wife, didn't she have a right to know? Or should she be forever kept in the dark about this part of his life? What if, God forbid, something happened to him during the insurrection? Would that be the right time for her to find out?

************

Meanwhile, in another part of town, a rich shopkeeper named Benjamin was closing up shop for the day. It had been a good day as days go. There had been few really outstanding days lately. Perhaps people felt so badly about the constantly raising taxes that they were limiting their spending. But, he didn't keep the shop open just for the money. He enjoyed meeting all the people who came in –all kinds of people: farmers, doctors, lawyers, businessmen, all different, and interesting to talk to. Oh, it wasn't that he couldn't use the money either. It would certainly come in handy, especially since some of his children were getting to the age now where they would be thinking of furthering their education. All these thoughts were running through his mind as he closed up shop and made his way home.

When he arrived at his luxurious house, unlike the humble abode of Barabbas, no one ran out to meet him. His children were engrossed either in books or games, and his wife was putting the finishing touches on the supper. "I'm glad to see you're home on time tonight, dear," she said, without looking up from the pot. "How was business?"

"Oh, about as usual. What's for supper?"

After a delicious meal, he helped his wife put the little ones to bed. Then he dropped into his big chair in the living room and said with a sigh, "thank God, my family will always have the best."

************

Meanwhile, the poor blacksmith also arrived at home. In contrast to the other, his wife and children ran out to meet him as usual.

"You're late again!" complained his wife. "Another last-minute customer?"

"That's right, dear." That was all he would say for the moment.

After the usual foot washing, the meal and the putting of the children to bed, he and his wife sat and talked. _Now's the time,_ he thought _. I might as well get it over with._

"Uh, Deborah, dear, I lied to you earlier this evening when I said I had a last minute customer at the shop. I wasn't at the shop."

"Really, dear? And where were you? With another woman?"

"Deborah! You know me better than that! You know you're th' only one for me!"

"Of course I do, big man! I was just joking. But where were you?"

"Well, dear, please don't be upset. I've formed a group of men who are also dissatisfied with the government, and we---" He hesitated, while she looked on inquiringly. He took a deep breath. "--we're—we're making plans to form an insurrection against Pilate." His heart pounded. Now it was out.

"So it has finally come to this! I was somewhat afraid of something like this. But why, Barabbas? Why can't you let well enough alone? We really don't have it so terribly bad do we?"

"It's bad enough! And it's bound to get worse. But, we've been through all this before. You know how I feel."

"Yes, and you know how I feel. Oh, Barabbas, I wish you wouldn't!"

"It's too late for that now. We've already made our plans. And I'm the leader. I couldn't back out now if I wanted to. But anyway why should I? How much longer can we just sit back and take these injustices? You should be able to see that it's getting worse all the time. Are we supposed to just sit back and wait until they've squeezed all the life out of us?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, now that you've put it that way, perhaps you're right. Perhaps, despite the danger, something should be done."

"Now you're talkin', Deborah dear."

"O' Barabbas!" She kissed him. "I just don't want anything to happen to you. I don't know what I'd do if it did!"

He held her hand. "Don't worry. Nothing's gonna happen to me. We've got everything planned out. And with your prayers, we're sure to succeed."

She sat silently for a moment and then asked, "But, why Pilate?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why not start with Herod? He's just as much a tyrant as Pilate, and in a higher position."

"Well, we have to start somewhere, don't we? And he's the most immediate threat, with this tax situation. Anyway, once we succeed in overthrowing Pilate and get more people to realize that it can be done, then we will be ready to take on Herod, and then perhaps even Caesar. Yes, we'll rid the world of all these tyrants and establish a new kind of government."

"A new kind of government?"

"Yes. Government by the people. I'm already forming some ideas about it in my mind. I'll have to put them down in writing."

"Oh, Barabbas, Barabbas! You're too much! Sometimes I think I'm crazy for it, but I love you to death." And once more their lips met. "Mmm!"

"Mmm! Come on. Let's go to the bed, shall we?"

PART I CHAPTER 14: MESSIAH-?

Who do men say that I, the son of man am?

_\---Jesus (Matthew 15_ _:12)_

"Yes, we did quite well," observed Lucas the following day, as they were having lunch. "But it won't last forever. We'd better keep goin' and look for another crowd."

"Or wait for the same one to return."

"Do you really think they'll come back?"

"If that prophet, John preaches again. He was sure a powerful speaker."

"Just because you let him get y' spellbound doesn't mean..."

"I wasn't the only one. I noticed others in the crowd who were just as fascinated."

Lucas stroked his beard. "You sure did a lot o' noticin' yesterday."

"I noticed th' crowd in th' first place didn't I?"

"You sure did, and praises be for that! Well, shall we venture forth and try it again?"

As they set out on their new quest, Lucas nudged Timotheus and ordered, "Keep yer eyes peeled, so y' can spot th' crowd again. Let's hope it's back already."

"But if it is, it might just be the same people, and maybe they won't want to give again."

"You do too much thinkin' sometimes, boy! In every crowd, there's bound t' be some new folks, and even if there are some o' th' same ones, they won't even think about it. Wait 'n' see."

So they returned to the place where they were the day before, but only to find it now quiet and forsaken.

"Maybe the preacher decided to take a day off," ventured Timotheus.

"Seems strange, don't it, after the fiery way he was preachin' yesterday?"

Timotheus was disappointed, but not only because of the loss of a take. He wanted to hear more from the fiery preacher. "Maybe he decided to try a new spot. Why don't we just keep goin' straight ahead for a while?"

"Alright. I guess we can't lose anything."

Soon Timotheus' eyes caught sight of the crowd. They had gathered down by the river. "There they are– by t' river. Let's go."

As they drew closer, they could hear the preacher. But, they noticed that there seemed to be pauses or breaks in his message. As they grew closer, Timotheus noticed that the crowd was not only listening to John but also being baptized by him. They could hear John's voice saying, "I baptize you upon the repentance of your sins."

Timotheus, curious, began to watch the baptisms. But, Lucas gave him a poke. "Hey, let's get started, shall we?"

They did run into some people who had given the day before and resented being asked again. But most of the people gave without a second thought as Lucas had predicted.

Suddenly everyone's attention, including that of Timotheus, was focused on the river, where a strange person had come asking to be baptized by John, But, John didn't want to baptize him. Edging his way toward the front of the crowd, Timotheus could hear the stranger tell John to go ahead and do it, "to fulfill all righteousness."

After John baptized the stranger, a strange thing happened. It seemed as if a dove stopped and hovered over the head of the stranger. Then, suddenly, there was a voice speaking from out of nowhere. It was a strong and penetrating voice, stronger than John's, and it said: "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased."

They left, having done quite well again. "It's wonderful!" observed Lucas, as they ate their newly purchased meat and potatoes. "Two very good days in a row. We'll eat well, but we'd better put some by for the bad times which may be comin'."

"Maybe there won't be any more bad times."

"What'd' you mean?"

"Didn't you see what happened out there, Lucas?"

"Nope. I don't pay attention to anything but what I'm doin'. That'd be a good motto for you t' follow too. All I know is we got a good take again t'day."

"So you didn't see when that stranger came t' be baptized by John and a dove hovered over him?"

"Nope," answered Lucas disinterestedly.

"And you didn't hear that voice from heaven?"

"What voice? The only voice I remember is John's."

"No. There was a stronger more piercing voice, which seemed to come from nowhere. It said 'This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased.'"

"You must be imagining things."

"No, I heard others in the crowd discussing it afterwards. Your problem is that you're half deaf as well as half blind."

"O.k., so there was a voice. It could have been a trick of some kind."

"I don't think so. And before the stranger was baptized, John didn't want to baptize him at first, but the stranger told him to do it, 'to fulfill all righteousness.'"

"So what?"

"Don't you wonder what all this means? This stranger could be the promised Messiah, you know."

"Oh, and that's why you said that maybe there won't be any more bad times?"

"Yes! Don't you see? If he's the Messiah, then he will deliver us from both our spiritual and our worldly bondage."

"Where did you hear that?"

"From my mother."

"Those are nothing but idle tales to put false hope into the hearts of naïve folk like you. The only deliverance is that which we make fer ourselves."

Having finished their supper and cleaned up around their campsite as best they could, they got ready for bed.

"Now," said Lucas, "If we have another day tomorrow, like these past two, we'll really be sittin' pretty."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Whata y' mean y' guess so?"

"Oh, nothin'. Goodnight, Lucas."

"Yeah, let's get some sleep. Goodnight, Timotheus."

But Timotheus didn't go to sleep right away. His mind was still on the stranger who was baptized _. Could he really be the promised Messiah? If so, he could probably provide Timotheus with what he had been searching for all his life. Or was this all, as Lucas proclaimed, a simple act of trickery_?

PART I CHAPTER 15:

BLACKMAIL OR BIGAMY?

If two wrongs don't make a right, try three.

\---Laurence J. Peter

This time, the strange-looking black and white chariot stopped in front of the palace and the strange- looking driver strode decisively through the front door, up the swirling staircase and straight to the door with the mixed symbols on it. Meanwhile, Herod was coming in through the back way, coming back from another rendezvous with Herodias, Philip's wife. Manaheem tried the door and found it locked, so he knocked. It happened that Herod was just coming through the rear entrance. When he heard the knock, he walked quickly to open the door, forgetting to close the rear door behind him.

"Oh, it's you."

"Just getting back from somewhere?" asked Manaheem, seeing the back door open. "Perhaps another visit to the beautiful and charming Herodias?"

Herod was taken aback. "What are you talking about? I was just out for a little ride."

"But not by yourself, I'll wager. Come on, don't try to deny it. I know you've been up to a little hanky-panky."

"But how could you know?"

"I saw you two leave the party together the other week. Then there were those other times I've come here and you haven't been here. It didn't take long to put two and two together. Remember, I warned you that night they dropped in before your visit to Pilate?"

"Oh, alright then, it's true," whispered Herod, walking over and closing the back door. "But please, dear brother, not a word of this to anyone, I beg you."

"Well dear brother, that will depend upon the amount by which you are going to raise my salary."

"You rascal! I thought you weren't that interested in material things."

"That was before Claressa came back into my life. Now I realize that I must have more for both of us to survive and be happy."

"Alright, then." Herod started to quiver. "How much do you want?"

"Let's say ten thousand."

"Are you mad? Don't answer that."

"Well, if you like your money more than your reputation, dear brother, that's fine. I shall start spreading the news tomorrow."

"No! Wait! I'm sure I can come up with the money."

"That's more like it."

"I'll have to visit the royal treasury. Come back tomorrow."

"Fine."

But, as Manaheem was leaving, Herod began to think. The expression on his face turned from one of frustration to one of anger. As Manaheem's hand grasped the doorknob, Herod started to yell, "No! Am I crazy?! I'll be damned if I'm going to sell my soul to you. You want ten thousand now. Next week, or next month, or whenever, you'll come back and demand more. No! Go ahead and tell." Then his voice became quieter, almost to a whisper. "I'll marry that wench, that's what I'll do. I love her, so I'll marry her and have it out in the open. Th' heck with Samantha!"

"But, you can't do that. She's already married, and so are you. Nobody likes a bigamist. If you marry her you will have made two bigamists! How do you think people will feel about that?"

Herod shrugged. "You're a fine one to be talking to me about what people think – you the great non-conformist! You know, some of what you've been saying along that line is starting to make sense. So, I guess it's my turn to try non-conformity, at least in this area. At any rate, rather a bigamist than a pauper! Rather a bigamist than an adulterer, even. Yes, I'll marry her and have the whole thing out in the open, whether anyone likes it or not, and be done with the likes of you!"

Manaheem smiled broadly. "Ha! Herod, the conformist, forced to a stance of non-conformity, if only in one area, because of passion and greed! What a strange turn of events!"

Herod raised his voice again. "Sometimes your cynicism makes me sick!"

"I'm only stating the facts. But what about Philip?"

"He won't do anything. It wouldn't be worth it to him. You see, he doesn't really love her. She told me so. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, as was mine with Samantha."

"But, what about Samantha?"

Herod put his finger to his lips and lowered his voice. "Quiet! She may be around. If it's any of your business, I'll, send her back where I got her."

`Manaheem smiled and continued talking in his normal voice, despite Herod's frantic hand signals. "You'll send her back to Arabia? That could cause trouble, you know."

Herod sighed and then shrugged again. "A possibility, although a slight one, I believe. Anyway, I shall have to take my chances on that."

Now another voice was heard at the door. "--A big mistake, Herod Antipas!"

"Samantha, dear!"

"Don't 'dear' me, you two-timing clod!" As she entered, her whole body swayed angrily. "I heard almost everything from the hallway. I was coming to see if you had returned and bid you good night. I might well have suspected something was going on, as much as you've been absent from the palace lately. But I never suspected it was with your brother's wife. How low can you get? Well, go ahead! Send me back! You'll be sorry! When my daddy hears of this, you'll be sorry you ever met me!" She left as quickly as she had come, slamming the door behind her.

Manaheem smiled. "Well, well! What about that, brother dear?"

Herod shrugged again. "Idle talk, Manaheem. It's only the idle chatter of an enraged female, nothing more. I'm sure I have nothing to worry about."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Ah, her father, Aretas, and I are old friends. He wouldn't do anything against me."

"Would you like to bet on that?"

"No. But just to be sure, I guess I'll send him some gifts."

"You'd rather send him gifts than to pay me?"

"It will still cost me less in the long run, I'm sure."

"Perhaps. But there's still no guarantee that he'll accept your gifts and let you alone. Are you sure you don't want to bet on it?"

"No, I don't. And I'd like you to leave now!"

"Of course, our original deal still stands."

"Of course. I'll let you know when the time is right for that."

"From what I hear, everything is coming along nicely, so far."

"Wonderful. Now get out of here and leave me alone."

"As you wish, your Majesty." Manaheem smiled and bowed, although his smile had a touch of irony in it. Herod said nothing. As Manaheem was leaving, he happened to glance back over his shoulder and notice that Herod was reaching for his crown.

PART I CHAPTER 16: JOHN

Your heavenly father has a purpose for your life, and he has planned the best for you.

\---Charles F. Stanley

My name is John. According to my parents, my birth was a miracle. My mother was past bearing and my father was also quite old. An angel appeared to my father while he was serving as priest in the temple and told him he was going to have a son. My father couldn't believe this good news and so was struck dumb by the angel until my birth. The angel also gave him my name, and when he wrote it on a tablet at my birth, his tongue was loosened and he prophesied saying that I was to go before the LORD and prepare his way.

I didn't have many playmates when I was growing up. Sometimes my mother's cousin, Mary, and my little cousin, Jesus, would pay us a visit. Jesus and I played together and always got along well. In my teenage years, I began to feel the call of the LORD God upon my life in a very special way. I felt I had to go somewhere to be alone with God, so I went out into the wilderness. As I prayed and became quiet before the LORD, I began to have a very real consciousness of sin, first in my own life and then in the lives of those around me. I repented of my own sins– sins of thought and attitude mostly. When I did so, I felt a real sense of the presence of the LORD. I prayed and asked him to help others to repent as I had. It was then that He told me He had called me for that purpose. I was to go and cry out to the people, telling them to repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. As I preached, many were touched and came forward to register repentance. Then, my Lord showed me that this was not enough. I was to baptize all of those who registered sincere repentance. All of this was new to me. But I followed the LORD's leading at every point. He began to also impress upon me that my preaching and baptism was to serve only as a preparation for, or fore-running of, the one who was to come, the true Messiah. Somehow I had the feeling that it was to be none other than he with whom I had played as a child.

There were many months of preaching and baptizing and expectant waiting for the Messiah to appear. Then finally the glorious day came and my childhood playmate, now fully grown, was standing before me asking to be baptized. Sensing in my soul that he was the Messiah, I hesitated. How could I, a mere human, baptize God's anointed? But he bade me not to fear, and told me to do it in order "to fulfill all righteousness." When I did, a dove appeared above His head and a voice from heaven rang out, saying, "This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased." I was elated. I had just baptized the Messiah, who was also God's son, and God had shown him to be so openly.

Since that day, nothing has been the same. I live in the memory of that day and its glory. Yet, I have a sort of anti-climactic feeling. I continue to preach, calling people to repent. I continue to baptize. But somehow, I wonder why. He has come now. He has been manifested. Of what more use am I? The crowds are dwindling. My message is old and growing trite, and I am getting older and growing tired. But somehow I also realize that my ministry is not yet through. My work of pointing men to the Messiah cannot be ended until the LORD God wills it. When that happens, he will let me know somehow. So be it. If it is his will that I continue, I must continue.

But perhaps it might be better if I moved on to another location. It seems that people here are getting tired of me and my message. Anyway, there aren't really any big sinners around here. What I need is something really big to preach against– some outrageous sin or scandal of some sort. If I had something like that, I'm sure I would feel more inspired and attract more people. Let me see. If I were to go to Tiberius, where King Herod lives, surely I could find something big there to speak out against. I think it's not too far from here, and I could preach on the way. Yes, that's it! I'll start for Tiberius in the morning. Perhaps this is the LORD's leading.

PART I CHAPTER 17:

### \--AND MORE PLANS

Aim at nothing and you're sure to hit it.

\---Zig Zigler

_A good plan is like a road map: it shows the final destination and usually the best way to get there_ _._

\---H.Stanley Judd

"Alright, men, let's go over it one more time."

"First we enter with the rest of the crowd and mingle."

"Then, after five minutes, Simeon, Craciaus, Laconius, and I spread out and go swiftly but quietly to the four guard positions. We knock out the four guards at the same time, before they know what hit 'em."

"We'll have to rehearse our walk to be sure it's quick and quiet."

"We shall indeed. And then, what next?"

"Why, we rejoin the rest of you guys."

"And?"

"And we begin marching forward shouting: 'Down with this tyrant!', 'Down with this rotten government,' and th' like."

"At which time, we also brandish our weapons from under our garments."

"And move in for th' kill."

"Excellent, men, excellent!" Barabbas smiled proudly. "You've got it down real well. Now we just have to practice the details, such as the walk, already mentioned, and the use of our weapons, and we'll be ready."

"Won't it be great though to be rid of that tyrant?"

"Then we can concentrate on the other tyrant, Herod, and then the big one, Caesar."

"But at least we won't have to worry about those damn local taxes which Pilate is always handing down."

"Keeps gettin' worse and worse all th' time."

"Just think what we could do if we didn't have to pay those stupid taxes."

"If I didn't have t' pay them taxes, I might be able t' get me a new plow and oxen t' better work my farm."

"My wife's been wantin' a new dress for a long time, but 'causa them taxes we hadn't been able t' afford it."

"If I didn't have t' pay taxes, I might be able t' trade my tired old nag in on a fresh new ridin' horse."

Barabbas tapped on the table to get their attention. "Well, fellows, I'm sure we could all benefit in one way or another from not having to pay those terrible taxes. But that's not the only thing we're fightin' for, is it?"

"Why, no! We're fightin' against every form of oppression which this government is imposin' upon us."

"That's right! We'll replace tyranny with the rule of the people."

"Justice, liberty and equality shall prevail!"

Barabbas was quite proud of the resolve and dedication of his men. He cleared his throat to speak. "Gentlemen, I'm convinced that ours is the greatest cause on earth. We must win because of the nature of our cause. Surely the LORD God will be on our side and help us as He has our forefathers."

"Oh, I'm sure he will, Barabbas. But we must be sure to do our part perfectly as well. As you said, we need practice."

"And we shall have it."

"We could use more men as well."

"You're absolutely right." Barabbas rose to his feet and cleared his throat again. "Gentlemen, I've come to a decision. Since, as we have said, our cause is the greatest thing there is, I'm going to sell my blacksmith shop and devote all my time and energy to the cause."

"Barabbas! That's quite a sacrifice on your part."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be worth it in the end."

"What do you think your wife will say?"

"Deborah?" He shrugged. "Oh, she'll just have to accept it, that's all."

************

"You're going to what?! Now, Barabbas, you get ahold of yourself!"

"But, Deborah, dear, I'm sure I can get a good price for the shop."

"Maybe and maybe not. But even if you do, what'll happen when that money runs out, which it will, eventually. Who's going to take care of me and th' children? Or hadn't you thought of that? I didn't say too much when you told me you started these meetings and these plans even though you know I'm really not for it. But, for you to quit your business and spend all your time in that insurrection stuff --- Come on, now Barabbas! Where's your head? I mean it's bad enough you're in it, to begin with– comin' home late, probably closin' up early to get to those meetings, not sleepin' half th' time for planning strategies, and talkin' about nothing else! But this would be the last straw! Yes, sir, Barabbas! I love you, but if you even attempt somethin' like this, I'm leaving! – going back to Momma! Do you hear me?"

"Well, alright, darling. It was just a thought."

************

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, plans of another sort were being discussed by another couple.

"Sarah, darling, I was thinking– don't you think it would be a good idea to expand the shop? You know, pull down the walls in order to make room for more products?"

"But, why, Benjamin, dear? We have everything we need."

"But we could have more of it and better."

"Dear, Benjamin! Aren't you satisfied?"

"Well, I've been satisfied till now. But, I was just thinking, what about insuring the best education for all the children? Are you quite sure there's enough for that?"

"Well, perhaps not, now that I think about it."

"Darling, don't you see, for my family, I want nothing but the best."

The next day at his shop, a customer examining a fancy fabric noted, "This is quite a piece of fabric, Benjamin."

"Nothing but the best, Aaron," he replied.

"How much is it?"

"Eighty shekels."

"I suppose it's worth it. Here."

Taking the money, the proud shop owner added, "Oh, by the way, Aaron, I'm planning to expand my shop to add several new lines. I'll probably stock sandals also, but only the best – nothing but the best."

"Very good, Benjamin. I'll look forward to that."

While Benjamin had been talking, another customer had entered. He cleared his throat and said, "Ah, good afternoon, Benjamin."

"Well, good afternoon, Felix. What can I do for you?"

"Some o' that yarn, I suppose." As Benjamin turned to get the yarn, Felix asked, "But how about what happened at Justus' wedding the other day?"

The first customer was almost out of the door when he perked up his ears and decided to return and hear what the man would say.

"Happened?" queried Benjamin. "I was not aware that anything out of the ordinary happened at Justus' wedding. I heard it was really nice. But I couldn't go, unfortunately. I had some unexpected orders to take care of. But, tell me, what happened?"

"Yes, what happened?" asked the first customer. "I'm interested also as I too could not attend."

"Well, they ran out of wine."

"So, is that anything so unusual for a wedding of that size?" asked Benjamin.

"No, but what happened next is."

"Well, tell us, Felix. We're dying to hear it."

"Well, there was this fellow named Jesus– some relation to the bride, I believe. Well, his mother was there too, and when they ran out of wine, the mother goes to this guy Jesus and tells him. He has some words with her, and then he tells the servants to fill up the water pots with water. She tells them to obey him, so they do. He then tells them to draw it out and take it to the master of the feast, and guess what? When they drew it out it was no longer water but wine – and very good wine too. I tasted some myself."

"Are you crazy?"

"No! I actually saw it and tasted the wine."

"Wow!" The first customer became excited. "What d' y' think, Benjamin? Maybe this man is the promised Messiah, eh?"

"Nah! He's probably just some trickster, trying to attract attention to himself. As for me, Felix, I'm going to expand, you know– knock out a few walls, bring in a few new lines, but nothing but the best, Felix, nothing but the best!"

"Yes, sir! That's what it was alright! That wine was nothing but the best."

PART I CHAPTER 18:

THE OUTRAGE

The wages of sin are unreported.

\---Unknown

The palace of Aretas, king of Arabia Pretoria, was huge and ornate. It had taken about three weeks for the entourage to reach the palace. Herod had sent several of his guards with wagons loaded with gifts. Samantha had tried to sabotage the gifts, but the guards had restrained her. She screamed and struggled for the first part of the trip. Then she settled down and simply muttered and murmured under her breath, "He won't be impressed by these trinkets anyway! He'll show you, you big moron! He'll show you!"

Aretas had been sitting on his throne next to his wife. They had just been talking about Herod and Samantha:

"I wonder how Samantha is doing, there in Tiberius."

"Oh, I'm sure everything is fine, there, even though we haven't had any word from her for a while."

"But that Herod is a funny character. You never know what to expect from him."

"I suppose you're right about that. Say, what is that? Sounds like something coming." They went to the window and looked out.

"Well, look at that! It's a caravan."

"I wonder where it's from."

"Well, let's go and find out." They walked briskly to the front door and out onto the front lawn.

"Why, look! It's Samantha, isn't it?"

"Sure looks like her. What could this mean?"

They ran to the first wagon of the huge caravan. Aretas smiled broadly as he greeted his daughter. "Why, Samantha, dear, how good to see you again! And to what do we owe this visit?"

"I'm afraid it's not just a visit, Daddy. Herod is tired of me. He's sending me back."

Aretas'expression turned from one of surprised delight at seeing his daughter again, to one of extreme anger. "He's what?"

"That's right, Daddy. He's sending me back to you."

"Just like that?"

"Yes! He fell in love with his brother's wife. He plans to marry her, of all things!"

"So, he's a bold-faced bigamist, eh? How could he do such a thing? And what is all of this? Does he think he can buy me off with gifts? Does he think that because he offers me a few trinkets, I won't be offended by this outrage? That's what it is, an outrage! How dare he send my daughter back to me, like some worn out piece of clothing or stale piece of meat! I'll show that fox!" He called to the guard who was standing nearby. "Asad! Prepare the army for an invasion. I shall return Herod's trinkets to him, along with something he's not expecting!"

************

About the same time that the caravan arrived in Arabia, John the Baptist arrived in Tiberius. As he preached on the streets of the city, he began to draw crowds. One day as he was calling for everyone to repent, someone in the crowd cried out, "Hey! Why don't you preach this to that fox, Herod? He's th' one who really needs to hear it."

"And why is that?" asked John.

"Haven't you heard? It's common knowledge by now. He sent his wife back to her father and is going to marry his brother, Philip's wife, with whom he is now living."

_Aha_ , thought John, _this is just the big sin I've been looking for. The LORD has sent me here, indeed!_ But aloud, he said, "Alright, then, tomorrow I shall begin preaching on the palace lawn. Join me there. And if that isn't enough, I shall seek an audience with the king himself."

*****************

Herodias arrived at the palace early the next day. After a few kisses, Herod asked her, "So, my dear, have you informed Philip of our plans?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, just the other night. But it seems he was already aware of them. The whole thing is public gossip by now, you know."

"So it is, which is why we must finalize our plans as quickly as possible. But, tell me, what did the old goat say?"

"Philip? Ah, he was somewhat surprised, that's about all. But he said he wouldn't divorce me. His marriage to me gives him too much respectability."

"Well, then, my dear, you shall have the distinct honor of being one the few women around these parts who has two husbands. What do you think of that?"

She sighed. "It shall probably keep me quite busy. But it shall be worth it, to be with you. Since you said this is the only way, because of that scoundrel, Manaheem, then let it be. But, who will marry us, under these conditions?"

"Don't worry about that, my dear. I have the officials here in my control. Now, let me call in the servants so we can finalize all the plans and get the invitations out." Herod got up from the throne and was going to pull the bell for the servants, when, from the window, he heard something strange coming from the palace lawn below.

"But, what is that?"

"What?"

"That noise! Don't you hear it?" Going to the window, he opened it and looked out. To his amazement, he saw a small crowd gathered below, listening to a strange man in camels' hair. The man was shouting for everyone to repent of their sins.

"I don't care who you are," the preacher was saying, "whether pauper or king, you will not be able to get away with sin. You must repent now, and believe in the one whom the LORD has sent."

By this time, Herodias had joined Herod at the window. Turning to her, Herod asked, "What is this? Why is this lunatic shouting on my front lawn? Where are my guards?"

"It appears," she noted, "that they are also listening to the mad man."

"Ah yes, I see them." He yelled to the guards. "Guards! Why do you allow this lunatic to speak on the palace grounds?"

Before the guards could answer, John turned his head upward, cupped his hands and shouted, "Ah, Herod Antipas! I have somewhat especially to say to you."

Herod laughed. "Do you now? Well, alright. Say on then."

"But," whispered Herodias, "why don't you just have him thrown out and be done with it?"

"Quiet, dear! I'd like to hear what he has to say."

John had already begun. "Herod Antipas, your sin is great in the eyes of the LORD. You have sent away your lovely and faithful wife of many years, and have been living with the wife of your brother, Philip. This adulterous relationship is a terrible sin in the sight of the LORD God Almighty. Now you intend to make matters worse by marrying your brother's wife. This marriage is folly! What good will it do? You will be a bigamist and so will she. Repent of this sinful relationship and this folly, Herod Antipas! Repent before it's too late!"

During this speech, Herod's expression had gradually turned from one of amusement to one of anger. Suddenly he exploded with rage. "You're mad! How dare you insult your king, so?"

"Your own actions have insulted you, Herod Antipas, and it is not I but the LORD God Almighty who accuses you."

"Is that so?" yelled Herod. "Well, let's see if the LORD God Almighty comes to your aid. Guards! Arrest this man! Throw him in the dungeon. We'll see how well he preaches from there!"

*************

Meanwhile in Caesarea:

"How did it go today, Pilate dear?"

"Oh, hectic, as usual. Case after case to decide. Where do they all come from?"

"Well, at least you're keeping busy."

"Yeah, but it gets to be a grind after a while. There's so many of them that I can't possibly give each one the attention it deserves. Now it's almost time for the Jewish Passover and I'll have to go to Jerusalem, as usual, to keep the peace there. There'll be more cases to settle there, and when I get back here there'll be a backlog waiting for me. I'll never catch up. I wonder sometimes if it's all really worth it. I mean this job, our plans, and my enmity with Herod--"

"Ah, that reminds me, dear, I've been working on those letters we talked about, and I'm almost finished. If I don't finish by the time we're ready to leave, I'll take them with me and finish them in Jerusalem. It probably would seem better anyway if they were mailed from there, just in case anyone checked."

"Ah, that's great dear, I guess," he replied absent-mindedly.

"What do you mean, you guess?"

"I mean, well, sometimes everything seems so useless, and I just feel like giving everything up and starting over with something else. Sometimes I wonder if I'm cut out for this sort of thing at all."

"Why, Pontius Pilate! How can you talk this way? Why, we're so close to success, I feel it! We can't give up now! As for that scoundrel, Herod, just look at the scandal he's involved in now. That certainly shows how wicked he is and how unfit to rule. You deserve his position much more than he does. And just think, with a little more time and effort, you shall have it!"

PART I CHAPTER 19:

THE QUESTION

_Faith is believing things when common sense tells you not to_ _._

\---George Seaton

Never doubt in the dark what God has shown you in the light.

\---Unknown

The following day, Herodias was again with Herod in the palace when a messenger of the guard knocked and entered. "Sorry to disturb you, your Majesty, but some of John's disciples are below and wish to see the prisoner. Shall I escort them the dungeon?"

"No! No one may see the prisoner but me. Tell them to be gone."

"Yes, sir."

Herod went to the window to watch his command carried out. The guard relayed the message, but the disciples refused to leave. "We'll wait!" insisted a spokesman. "Perhaps he'll change his mind."

"Suit yourselves," yelled Herod to the surprised disciples below, "But you may have a long wait." Then, moving away from the window, he said to Herodias, "Well, my dear, why don't we pay the prisoner a visit?"

"Whatever for?"

"Why, it should be fun--a little diversion from all this planning. Come, you'll enjoy it."

And so they walked together down the dimly lit corridors and stairways that led to the dungeon. As soon as John heard their footsteps, he began to cry out at the top of his voice, "Repent, sinners! Repent! Repent!" As they approached the cell, and he could make out, through the dim light, who it was, he yelled out, "Herod Antipas, and Herodias! You must repent of this terrible sin and folly!"

"Quiet!" yelled Herod. "Don't you ever give up? What is it that makes you so persistent? Almighty God didn't help you very much, did He? And what about the one you've been preaching about, who's supposed to be the Messiah? Where is he? Why doesn't he come here and perform a miracle to release you? Where is your God now, John, and your Messiah?"

************

Perhaps he's right. Where is Jehovah God? Why did he allow me to be imprisoned like this? Why am I forced to live in this a dreary dungeon? How can my message be propagated now? Or maybe it's not supposed to be propagated anymore. Maybe my time is finished since he has already been manifested. But, what about him? Is he really the Christ? Is he really the promised Messiah as I've proclaimed? Is my cousin and childhood playmate really the one who is to be our deliverer? If so, why doesn't he deliver me from this prison? Perhaps Herod is right. Perhaps he is not the Christ after all, and we should expect another. But how can we know for certain? At least I know him to be an honest person. Why not ask him and see what he says?

************

"Well, Herod, perhaps you're right."

Herod tried not to show his surprise at John's answer. Turning to his lover, he said, "You see, dear, he's weakening."

Before she could answer, John spoke again. "I need to know for certain. Herod, if you could do me one small favor, I would greatly appreciate it."

"What might that be?"

"Send for some of my disciples and tell them to go to Jesus and ask him whether he is really the one to come or if we should look for another."

"You want me to send for your disciples and send them to this Jesus to ask him if he is really the Christ?"

"If you would."

"Hmmm. It might be interesting. I wouldn't have to send for your disciples, actually. Some of them are here now. They wanted to see you, but I refused, and they refused to leave."

"Some of my disciples are here?"

"Just outside."

"Well, couldn't I tell them myself? If you told them, they might not believe the message was really from me."

"Well,---"

"Come on, darling," urged Herodias, "let him see his disciples. What harm could it do?"

"Oh, alright. I'll go and call them in, but only a few of them. We don't want a riot on our hands."

So Herod went out and brought two of John's disciples into the dungeon. He and Herodias stood by as the three spoke.

"John! How are you?"

"As well as can be expected in this dark, damp place."

"Are they feeding you alright?"

"Well, it's not locust and wild honey, but it will do. Listen, guys, I want you to do something for me."

"Anything, John. Just name it."

"Well, I've been doing a lot of thinking in here and I've been having some doubts about my cousin, Jesus. I want you to go to him and ask him whether he is really the one to come. Ask him if he is the Christ, or if we are to look for another."

"But, John, I thought you were certain about him. You told us he's the Christ."

"I know. But now I'm not sure. Would you please do as I say and bring me back the answer as soon as you can?"

"Certainly, John. --As soon as we can."

PART I CHAPTER 20: THE ANSWER

It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.

\---Aristotle Onassis

"Things are pretty dull around here now," observed the older beggar. "That prophet musta left and took th' crowds with him."

"Yeah! 'Guess we might as well head back to our old spot."

"Guess so, since we've not been doin' so good around here the last couple o' days. At least at our old spot, we didn't do too awful bad."

"It's sure good we had them few real good days, eh Lucas?"

"Yep! If it wasn't for them, we'd sure be in trouble now."

So, the two began walking back toward their original spot.

About halfway there, however, Timotheus' sharp eyes caught sight of another crowd a short distance ahead. "Hey! We're in luck again, Lucas--another crowd!"

"Great! Let's hope they're as generous as the other two were."

As they approached, Timotheus caught sight of the speaker to whom the crowd was listening intently. It was the stranger who had come to the river to be baptized by John. It was the one over whose head the dove had appeared and about whom the voice had spoken.

As he listened, Timotheus was strangely drawn to the message. It was a message of love, forgiveness, and righteousness. Lucas noticed that his partner had slowed down and poked him in the side. "Come on! What's th' matter with you? Let's get goin' here!"

As before, the beggars did fairly well. Suddenly Timotheus noticed that several new men arrived and began pushing and shoving their way to the front of the crowd. He also noticed that the stranger had stopped preaching and was now healing individuals in the crowd. He touched a blind man, whom Timotheus had asked alms of a moment ago, not realizing that the man was blind, and himself a mendicant. Suddenly the man began shouting: "I can see! I can see!" He touched a lame man, whom Timotheus had just passed by, and suddenly the man stood on his feet shouting, "I can walk, I can walk!" He touched a deaf man, who moments ago couldn't hear Timotheus' plea for alms, and suddenly the man began shouting, "I can hear! I can hear!" Of course, Lucas was too busy begging to notice any of this. But Timotheus noticed.

Meanwhile, the men who had been pushing and shoving their way forward had finally reached the stranger. One of them yelled out: "Master, we would have a word with you."

"Say on," the stranger replied.

"We are disciples of John and come with a question from our master. John wants to know if you are the one who is to come, or if we should look for another."

The stranger sighed a deep sigh and answered, "Go and report to John the things which you hear and see. The blind receive sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised up and the poor have the gospel preached to them. These things should show without a doubt who I am. Blessed is the one who keeps from stumbling over me."

The men turned and left. But the stranger kept talking. "Concerning John, what did you go out to see in the wilderness? A reed shaken by the wind? But why did you go out? To see a prophet? Yes, I tell you and one who is more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it was written, 'behold, I send my messenger before your face, to prepare your way before you.' Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has not arisen anyone greater than John the Baptist. Yet, he who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. And if you care to accept it, he himself is Elijah, who was to come. He who has ears to hear, let him hear."

Although he wasn't sure exactly what the stranger meant, Timotheus was impressed by the power of the man's words. He thought to himself, _I wonder who this man is anyway._ As he was thinking, he felt the jab of Lucas' elbow. "O.K. Let's go."

Timotheus was silent as they ate their evening meal. Lucas was gloating as usual over their continued good fortune. "It's really great! We've got enough now t' last us through several bad days at least."

"Yeah, it's good," replied Timotheus, nonchalantly.

"What's th' matter with you? You've been quiet ever since we started back here and now you answer in that tone, as if you didn't care. What's th' matter?"

"Oh, nothin'."

"Come on, now. You're thinkin' about that preacher, aren't y'?"

"Well, I--"

"I saw how you were stoppin' t' listen sometimes."

"Just for a minute or two here and there."

"Why do y' let yourself get caught up with these things? Why don't y' just concentrate on your work?"

"But, Lucas, th' man sure spoke with authority. What if he is really the promised Messiah?"

"Didn't I tell you before, there's nothing to this Messiah business? It's only an idle tale. You'd be much better off if you'd forget those false hopes and concentrated on reality."

No more was said. As dusk came, the pair got ready to go to sleep. Timotheus began to wonder if Lucas could be right, but somehow he just couldn't get the stranger or his strange words out of his mind.

PART I CHAPTER 21:

THE UNFORGETTABLE PARTY

Whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.

\---Paul (Galatians 6:7)

\

It was Herod's birthday, and at the palace, preparations were being made for the grand party, which was to be held shortly in the ballroom. Herodias brought her daughter, Salome, planning to have her dance for Herod and his guests as a surprise. But Herod came to check the decorations in the ballroom and noticed the beautiful young lady who arrived with Herodias and then shyly disappeared into one of the hallways.

"Who was that who came with you, my dear?"

"Ah, that was my daughter, Salome. She's a wonderful dancer, and I brought her to have her dance a special dance at the party. It was supposed to be a surprise."

"Sorry I spoiled the surprise. And where is she now?"

"Getting ready, of course, in one of the other rooms. It's going to be a wonderful party, my love."

"Have any of the guests begun arriving yet?"

"Not yet, but they should any minute. What's that I hear below? Perhaps that's some of them arriving now."

But as they went to the window and looked down, they found that it was only the two disciples of John, returning to give him the message of Jesus. The guard didn't want to let them in. "No one enters the palace tonight, except by special invitation."

Herod leaned out of the window and waved his hand at the guard. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"They insist upon seeing the prisoner, your Majesty."

"Your Majesty," implored one of the disciples, "We bring John back the answer he sent us to seek."

"Well, let them see him," instructed Herod. "What harm could it do? But one of you stay and keep an eye on them just in case."

"Yes, your Majesty."

************

"How are you doing John?" asked several of the disciples simultaneously.

"As well as can be expected in this dark dungeon."

"We bring you the answer you sent us for."

"Yes, we bring you word from Jesus."

"What does he say?" asked John anxiously.

"He bids us tell you what we have seen and heard."

"And, John, what we've seen and heard is truly amazing!"

"The lame walk."

"The blind receive their sight."

"The lepers are cleansed."

"The deaf hear."

"The dead are raised up."

"And the poor have the gospel preached to them."

"And," sighed John, "this is his answer? He bids you tell me of these wonders?"

"This is his answer, master John."

"Well, I must admit that there have been no miracles like these for quite some time. Then, it must be true! He must be the promised Messiah!"

"Oh, master, John, I don't know why you ever doubted it in the first place."

"Now, neither do I. It's just that I wonder why he doesn't do one of his miracles and release me from this place. But, perhaps he has a reason."

"I'm sure he does. We must trust Him, that's all."

************

Meanwhile, the guests had begun arriving and the final preparations were done. The party began. The ballroom of the palace was huge and it was filled with guests. The band played rousing music while some of the guests danced. Others simply sat and made conversation. There were long tables with all manner of food and drink from which the guests would sample discretely every now and then.

Then, in she came. In her fancy dress, she was even more beautiful than Herod remembered from that first glance. She whispered something to the leader of the band and began her dance. It was both artistic and sensual, both graceful and alluring. Herod was taken with her, from the moment he saw her, and, as she danced, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. With his hand beside his mouth, he made comments to the friends beside him regarding her great beauty, while all the while, keeping his eyes fixed firmly upon her. Every minute she danced, he became more excited. When the dance was finished, he called her over to him.

She came, shy and trembling. "Did my dance please you, your Majesty?"

"Oh, very much so, my dear! In fact, so much so, that I'm going to make you a gift. Ask me for anything you like, up to the half of my kingdom and I shall give it to you."

"Why, your Majesty, I don't know what to say."

"Only tell me what it is you desire. Gold, rubies, diamonds, you name it, and it's yours, dear."

"Your Majesty, may I have a little time to think about this?"

"Take as much time as you like, my dear." He then turned to the band. "More music!"

Salome bowed and left the room, going into the kitchen, where her mother, Herodias, was giving orders to the servants concerning the food. Herodias looked up, as Salome entered the kitchen. "Well, daughter, did he like your dance?"

"Oh, yes, mother. He liked it so much that he offered to give me anything I ask for up to half his kingdom. Oh, mother, what should I ask for?"

At that moment, even above the music, a sound could be heard coming up from the dungeon, which was below the kitchen. It was the voice of John the Baptist, crying out, "Repent! Repent!"

Herodias did not waste a moment in responding to Salome's question. "Ask him for the head of John the Baptist on a silver platter."

"But, Mother--"

"You asked me, didn't you? Well, do hear that maniac bellowing down there? The sooner we're rid of him, the better it will be for all of us. Believe me, daughter, it's the best thing you could possibly ask for."

"If you say so, mother."

Herod was conversing with his friends when Salome returned. She came up to him and bowed gracefully.

"Well, my dear, have you decided what it is you want from me? Remember I said up to half my kingdom?"

"Oh, yes, your Majesty, I've decided."

"Well then, will it be gold?"

"Oh no, your Majesty."

"Jewels, then?"

"Neither gold nor jewels, your Majesty."

The king was surprised. "Neither gold nor jewels? Then what?"

"Your Majesty, what I would like is," she said softly as she leaned in close, "the head of John the Baptist on a silver platter."

The king's countenance grew pale. He became quiet for a moment and then exclaimed, "Well, of all the things to ask for! Your mother put you up to asking for this, didn't she?"

She shrugged. "What does it matter? I have made my request. Either honor it or prove untrue to your word!"

The king was silent for a moment more. He then clapped his hands for a servant and ordered him to summon the captain of the guard. When the captain of the guard appeared, Herod gave the order. "Take a few men and go to the dungeon. Behead John and bring his head in on a silver platter."

************

As he sat alone in the damp dark dungeon, John began to pray. "Almighty God, please forgive me for doubting that the one you sent is truly the promised Messiah. I should never have doubted, for I felt in my heart from the beginning that he was the one. When I baptized him, I heard your voice affirming who he was. It's just that, I've been wondering why I was thrown into this dungeon and left here in this miserable place without any sign of deliverance. I realize that perhaps my ministry is at an end, as his is expanding. You once showed me that I must decrease and he must increase. But, dear lord, God, must I be left to live out my days in this miserable dungeon? If my ministry here is finished, why don't you take me home? I'd rather die and be with you in eternity than to spend the rest of my days here. Oh, hear me, my lord, God."

His prayer was interrupted by the sound of the heavy tread of soldiers' feet. He thought, " _Perhaps they're bringing another one of those terrible meals_."

He stood to meet the approachers. They opened his cell door and one of them drew out a sword while another spoke. "John, you are to die by means of beheading."

"Ah!" He sighed. "Thank you, LORD God. You did hear me. You answered me a lot quicker than I thought."

"Any last words or requests?"

"Only the usual word– the word I wish to be remembered by– the word, 'repent'!"

They started toward him to grab him, but he raised his hand. "You won't have to hold me. I shall lay down my head willingly."

In the ballroom, the party was going on full blast. The band was playing and some of the guests were dancing merrily, while others talked idly or told silly jokes, laughing loudly every once in a while. All of a sudden a momentary hush fell on the entire crowd as, one by one, they caught sight of the captain of the guard bringing in the silver platter with the head of John the Baptist. After a moment of silence, someone began to cheer, and others joined in, producing a gradually swelling chorus of cheers. And as quickly as it went, the noise and laughter returned. Soon everyone was laughing and talking happily–everyone, that is, except Herod. The king sat silent and pensive. His friends next to him tried to cheer him up, but to no avail. Herodias, noticing her lover's forlorn countenance, went over to him. "My darling, whatever is the matter? Don't you realize that now we are forever free of that pest? Never again will we have to listen to his rantings!"

"That's true, my dear."

"Well then, why are you looking so down in the mouth?"

"Oh, I don't know. I did want to silence his voice. But, not like that. What if he really was a man of God? We will have a lot to answer for on judgment day, won't we?"

"Why, Herod! I never saw you so serious! \--and at your birthday party! Why concern ourselves now with judgment day? If there is such a day coming, surely it's a long way off. We've plenty of time to make amends between now and then. Come on dear, let's forget it and be happy, shall we? It's your birthday. How about a smile from the birthday boy? There! Now, that's better! Now, shall we dance?"

But as the two headed for the dance floor, suddenly, a strange noise was heard.

"What's that?"

"Sounds like something hitting the palace."

"Yes, but what? Let's have a look, shall we?"

Herod and Herodias went over to the window and looked out, to see that the palace was being hit by battering rams. Aretas and his army were attacking the palace. The Palace Guard were doing their best to quell the attack, but they were outnumbered.

The party was continuing despite the racket. Few paid attention to the noise. Herod raised his hand and yelled out, "Quiet everyone! Quiet! May I have your attention one moment!" The hubbub died down and almost stopped. "My friends, we are being attacked. That thudding sound you hear is the sound of battering rams trying to break down our walls."

Now, there was complete silence. Then some half-drunken curious soul cried out, "Who in th' world could be attackin' us?"

Herod placed his hands on his waist and replied. "The father of my former wife, if it's any of your business. Now, I'm asking for volunteers to help me stave off these attackers."

Although many of the guests were too drunk and apathetic, some of them did volunteer, using their own weapons, which were checked at the door, or weapons that Herod had stashed away. The band continued to play and people continued to dance, with the sounds of swords and battering rams in the distance. With the added manpower, Herod's forces were finally able to quell the attack, but only after much damage to the palace and the loss of a few of Herod's friends.

PART I CHAPTER 22: THE ORDER

No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made silently.

_\---Agnes De Mille 19_ _08_

As the workmen hammered and sawed, working tirelessly to repair the damage, Herod sat in the throne-room with his lover, Herodias. There were two half-full glasses and a half-empty pitcher of wine on the table. The wind was blowing in through a crack next to one of the windows, but the king and his lover paid it no attention. Suddenly Herod pulled on the chord and a moment later the servant, Linus, appeared. "Linus," ordered Herod, "send a page to find Manaheem and tell him I want to see him at once."

The servant bowed and exited. Herod continued talking, half to himself and half to Herodias. "Where that rascal has been keeping himself lately, I cannot figure. He hasn't reported to me for quite some time now."

"Well, darling, didn't you tell me that he just got back with his former wife?"

"Yes, I guess that might explain it." Herod reached for his wineglass. "Now, how would you explain last night's attack?"

Herodias also reached for her glass as she spoke. "Oh, that's simple. The outrage of Aretas at your sending Samantha back to him."

"But I sent him many gifts. How ungrateful can he be?"

"Well, I don't know much about other cultures, but perhaps it's quite an affront in his world to send back a wife."

Herod sighed and sipped his wine thoughtfully. "You really think that's all there was to it?"

"Of course. What else could there be?"

"I don't know, but I kind of wonder if somehow maybe Pilate might have had something to do with it."

She started to laugh, thus spurting out some wine from her mouth. "Pilate? Don't be ridiculous!"

"Well, Pilate is starting to get jealous of me. He could easily have taken advantage of the situation to add fuel to Aretas' rage and supply him with troops as well. That was quite a formidable army we put down."

"Aw, Herod. I'm sure that those were Aretas' own forces. He certainly doesn't need help to stage an attack on this palace. I'm certain as well that his rage needed no fueling."

"You mean," Herod asked, reaching for the pitcher, "that my sending his daughter back to him was such a big insult as to provoke that attack?"

"It's entirely possible, my dear." She held out her glass for him to fill. "But why bother ourselves with reasons. The workmen are repairing the palace, and here we are together again. Let's take advantage of these moments together." She placed her glass back on the table and took his from him, placing it on the table as well. Then she threw her arms around him and pressed her lips to his.

************

Manaheem was with Claressa when the page found him. They were sitting on a bench in the public park, talking. Of course, the page found them easily by noticing the strange-looking chariot, which was tied nearby.

"You know, my dear," Manaheem was saying, "these are very uncertain times."

"What do you mean, darling?"

"Well, one never knows what's going to happen next, nor how one's fortune will fall. For myself, I hope to be coming into a small sum of money any day now. At the same time, there may be some very distinct changes on the political horizon."

She gave him a squeeze. "Oh, Manaheem, that's one thing, I like about you. Sometimes you talk in the profoundest of riddles, and yet somehow, what you say has a certain ring about it. I do wish, however, that you would make it just a little more clear to me."

"Well, Claressa, darling---" But just then, he noticed the page standing over him. "May I help you?"

"You are Manaheem, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I've come from King Herod. His Majesty would see you at once."

Manaheem looked at Claressa. "This, my dear, may be part of what I was just saying to you. I'm afraid I shall have to leave you. I'll drop you home and then I must go and see what our king wants." He turned to the page. "Did he say what it might be in reference to?"

"No, sir, he didn't. There's no telling with him, these days. Could be anything. May be your head, after what happened to John."

"John?"

"The Baptist. Cut his head clean off, he did. They brought it right into the party, on a silver platter. It was utterly sickening."

"I should imagine!" By now they had reached the chariot and started to mount. He turned and raised his arm in a parting gesture to the page. "Well, then we're off. Tell Herod I'll be there shortly."

After the page rode off and they were on their way to drop off Claressa, she asked, "Are you really going?"

"Certainly, dear."

"What? After what that page just said?"

"Oh, Herod wouldn't do anything like that to me. I'm his foster-brother, remember. And, besides, I have a mission to complete for him. I'm sure that's why he sent for me – to tell me to ahead and complete it."

"Well, if that's all he wants, why didn't he leave that message with the page?"

"It's much too dangerous, dear. The page could have been sidetracked or waylaid and the message fallen into the wrong hands. No, in matters like this, these days, it pays to be careful."

"Well, I'm still not at all certain what you're talking about, but I guess it's alright."

"Soon, dear everything will be clear and truly alright. Just wait and see, my dear."

************

Although it was a little while later when Manaheem arrived at the palace, Herod and Herodias were still lost in each other's arms. But, as the door opened and Manaheem entered, Herod broke himself free of the embrace and looked up.

"Well, brother dear, I haven't seen you in quite some time now."

"I have been enjoying the bliss of married life once more."

"What did I tell you, dear?" inserted Herodias to Herod.

"Well, your page said you wanted to see me. I surmise it would be to tell me that it's time to put our little plan into action?"

"Yes, it is, as a matter of fact. But why are you so short and businesslike today? You haven't said a thing about the attack on my palace. Is something bothering you, brother, dear?"

"Just that I've been hearing about your butchery of the Baptist. I told you, you would never learn. You're getting more and more like your father all the time."

"Oh, were you a follower of that maniac, John?"

"No, but his death is still an affront to common decency."

"Well, I'm sorry, my dear Manaheem, but there was nothing I could do. I had made a promise to Salome, Herodias' daughter, after she'd danced for me, that I would give her anything she wanted up to half my kingdom. And that is what she asked for, of all things--the head of John the Baptist on a silver platter."

"No doubt she was put up to it by you," ventured Manaheem, pointing to Herodias, who simply smiled.

Herod continued, "I really didn't want to kill him, but I had no choice. I couldn't go back on my word."

"Oh, no, of course not. You couldn't lose face with your friends--if indeed that's how it really happened, which I wonder. I know that you hated him because he spoke out against what you're doing. The two of you together probably planned the whole thing. I ought to just turn my back on the likes of you and never speak to you again."

"But Manaheem, brother, dear--"

"I ought to, but, I won't. I'll help you just for the fun of it, not to mention that I need the money you're paying me. Oh, but I'd love to see this whole thing backfire on you. That would really be interesting!" With a laugh, the strange-looking figure disappeared through the doorway.

"Is he always so cynical?" asked Herodias.

"Yes, dear. That's my foster-brother, the cynical non-conformist. I always did find his ideas tedious. And yet, you know something? It was really because of him and his non-conformist ideas that I decided to go ahead and marry you publicly and be done with it."

"It was a wise choice, if I do say so."

PART I CHAPTER 23:

THE INSURRECTION

In great attempts, it is glorious even to fail.

\---Lon"Inus

Barabbas and his men were growing restless. They had been carefully rehearsing and going over their plans evening by evening.

"Hey! We know these plans backwards and forwards. When are we going to act?"

"Yeah! What are we waiting for?"

Barabbas was silent. Should he keep waiting for the odd-looking stranger to appear, or should he go ahead? The men did seem to be ready. So, why should he wait any longer? "Alright," he said, finally, "we'll strike the day after tomorrow. We'll meet here tomorrow night just to make sure we don't forget anything, and that we have everything ready to go the following day. Meeting adjourned."

*********

He thought about closing the shop for the next day, but then decided against it. Perhaps the business would take his mind off of his nervousness. But it didn't seem to work. Several customers asked him if something was wrong, but he just ignored their questions and went about the business at hand.

All morning, he kept thinking that perhaps the mysterious stranger would appear. He didn't know why, but somehow, it didn't seem quite right to go ahead without this fellow's knowledge, whoever he was. It was he who had first opened up the possibility of such a thing to Barabbas' thinking. _Somehow_ _,_ Barabbas thought _, this man must know more about the situation than we do. Perhaps he has some inside knowledge, which would enable him to determine the best time to strike._ _Yet, I know that my men are ready and that victory is possible. So then, why am I concerned about the mysterious odd-looking stranger?_

But, about mid-day, just when he had made up his mind to forget about the stranger, he chanced to look up and see, through the window, the strange black and white chariot parked in front. Then he caught sight of the odd-looking stranger walking slowly toward the shop.

The few customers who were there were just leaving as the stranger entered. He walked right up to the counter, smiled broadly and said, "Greetings, my friend."

"Greetings. I was wondering what had become of you."

"I wanted to be sure to give you enough time. Is your group ready?"

"Very much so. Ready and restless. We were thinking of going ahead with it anyway."

"And I came to tell you to do just that. What a coincidence! When were you thinking about?"

"Tomorrow."

"Oh, that soon? I trust you have rehearsed everything carefully?"

"Many times. Believe me, everything will go just fine."

"Let us hope and pray so." With another big smile, he turned to go. At the door, he turned and said, "May God go with you, friend."

************

For Pontius Pilate, the day began as just another day of ruling. It was the same in Jerusalem as it had been in Caesarea, only slightly worse. It seemed there were more cases to hear in Jerusalem than in Caesarea, and more tedious ones at that. These Jews could really cause a lot of trouble with their strange religious rules.

Then it happened. All of a sudden, people began raising weapons in the air and yelling slogans like, "Down with injustice!" and "We want real justice!" Then they began marching toward the praetorium.

He saw that there was a big brawny man out in front, who seemed to be leading the crowd. There were also several others who seemed to be leading at various points in the crowd, but the one figure at the center stood out. With sword held high, he urged the crowd forward toward the praetorium.

Surprised and frightened, Pilate called for the guard. But it took a few minutes for them to assemble. In the meantime, the crowd had reached the praetorium. The husky man motioned to them and they stopped. With a mighty bound, the man was up on the praetorium, waving his sword in the face of the terrified governor and yelling, "Give up your tyrannical rule at once! Surrender or die!"

Just then, the guard was arriving from the rear of the praetorium. Catching sight of them, Barabbas turned and jumped down off of the praetorium. The guard began descending the steps of the praetorium and soon reached the crowd. The fight began.

Now many of the people, realizing the danger they were in, began to flee. Only a handful stayed to help Barabbas and his men. It was a bitter battle as swords clashed and screams were heard throughout the praetorium.

One of the guards challenged Barabbas. In the fight that ensued, the guard, with his superior training, appeared to be getting the best of Barabbas. But then, the latter, spying a chink in the guard's armor, took his sword, and with a mighty blow, plunged it deep into the guard's chest, killing him instantly.

By this time, Portia, hearing the yelling of the crowd, came out to see what was the matter. "It's just a small disturbance, my dear. It'll be over in a moment," Pilate told her.

And it was. Several lives were lost, on both sides. Barabbas and his men, with the aid of a few of the people, had fought valiantly, managing to kill several of Pilate's men. But in the end, the guard proved too much for them. Perhaps the strength and training of the guard were more than they had figured on. Perhaps Pilate had expected something and called for reinforcements. At any rate, there soon came the point at which they knew they it would be useless to fight any longer. To do so would surely mean either death or capture.

They looked to their leader, Barabbas. He was still trying to fight, although aware of their situation. He had to decide. Should he risk his life and the lives of his men further to go down in history as a hero? What would it accomplish? No, he just couldn't leave his wife and family fatherless. There was no hope now. They must turn back. He gave the signal and they beat a hasty retreat.

The guard pursued. But when Barabbas and his men went through the gateway at the entrance, they swung the huge iron gate closed. This slowed the guard down enough for the insurrectionists to gain the advantage. By the time the guard had gone through the gate, Barabbas and his men were well hidden in the woods along the road.

By this time, Portia was beside herself with curiosity. "Darling, what is happening? Is Brutus dead?"

Pilate looked at the body of the soldier whom Barabbas had slain, now lying across the stairs. "He appears to be, my dear."

"He was our best man!" She said, mournfully.

He shrugged. "I'm sure we'll find another to take his place."

"What was this all about, anyway, dear?"

"Oh, nothing, really, dear.--just a small popular uprising. Someone wanted to take my position."

"But, why? What was that they were yelling at the beginning? I couldn't hear too well from inside."

"Oh, they were yelling about injustice and tyranny – that sort of thing."

Her face brightened into a broad smile. "Well, Pontius Pilate, I guess that means you really are doing your job like a man. You've become firm like you should be, and I'm really proud of you. You see, I told you you could do it."

"But what good is it doing me? So far it's only brought me this riot."

"Just you wait, Pontius Pilate. You're well on your way to bigger and better things, and it won't be long now. Just you wait!"

### [END OF PART I]

LOOK FOR THE SEQUEL:

### "OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM, PART II: ROBBERY AND REDEMPTION, A NOVEL OF THE CHRIST AND THE ROMAN EMPIRE" By James M. Becher

### (also available on Smashwords)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

James M. Becher is a seminary graduate, freelance Bible teacher and article writer as well as a published author. His other novel, "IMPOSSIBLE JOURNEY, A Tale Of Times And Truth" is a sci-fi time travel novel with a message and is also available on smashwords. He has also just compiled a shorter non-fiction self-help book called "principles of the kingdom (god's success principles from his ezine articles with quotable quotes and and examples from this novel and it is now also available now on smashwords

137

