Second Touch (16 page)

him! My own babies were martyrs for this cause. Would I change my story?” Zadok touched the scar on his face. “But now I am called to serve the Good Shepherd. Yeshua. He is the son of David. And so shall I serve him as I served the flocks of his Father. Yes. Even if it is by laying down my life for him. And so, Shalom. Farewell. All of y’. Brothers. Sons. Farewell.”

110 “Gideon! Shalom!” From all quarters of the squalid encampment beggars greeted the lame youth.   Peniel recognized the voices of old friends. Amos the dwarf. Jeremiah the idiot. Shana the ancient woman pickpocket. Hosea the young spastic, whose cousins carried him to the Pool of Bethesda six days a week. But among those dozens who had shared the misery of a beggar’s existence with Peniel for years, no one seemed to recognize him. Furtive glances examined him as he passed by. Faces turned quickly away from him. And as he viewed them all, Peniel’s new eyes confirmed truths his ears had ¬only hinted at. Before, when he was blind, his senses had warned him that all was not well. Now vision verified the worst. The world beneath the viaduct was indeed a harsh and pitiless place. Tears, unbidden, misunderstood, began to flow silently down Peniel’s cheeks as he took it all in for the first time. “What’s wrong with you, then?” Gideon mocked. “Never mind. Just remember what I said. Keep your mouth shut.” Beneath the viaduct, where the dregs of Jerusalem drained away, lived the ragged people. Shelters constructed of cast-off lumber and brush gathered from the hillsides were packed into the culvert mostly out of sight of the respectable citizens of the city. Through the center of the colony ran a polluted brook. Children of the homeless darted through swarms of flies as they played along the bank of this open sewer. Three small boys ¬under the age of five, brothers by the look of them, stared listlessly at Peniel and Gideon as they passed. Hair spiked with filth, they were nearly naked, clothed ¬only in torn fabric tied around hunger-swollen bellies. If Yeshua saw this place, Peniel thought, surely he would embrace them all. Heal them all. Feed them all. Here and there among the hovels were smoldering campfires. Near the shelter of Gideon three cripples, stretched out in various stages of disability, roasted pigeons skewered on long sticks. Pigeons? Or something else? Peniel wondered. The little carcasses seem to have four legs. Gideon, noting Peniel’s questioning stare, explained the grisly menu. “That’s the last of Red’s kittens. But the cat of the old man without legs just had another litter. Nine kittens. There’d be a feast in a few weeks if he ¬didn’t always kill them so early. Every time. He says he ¬can’t bear to

eat them after they open their eyes because they’re so . . . so human then, he says. Kittens romping round his shelter are comfort to him when he’s lonely, he says. If ¬only he’d let them get some meat on their bones, I say. Wait awhile. But he’s a sentimental fool. He won’t let them open their eyes before he’s picking his teeth with their bones.” Peniel choked back a sob and covered his face. “What’s wrong with you, then?” Gideon demanded irritably. Peniel attempted to reply. The more he saw of life, the more his heart ached and the more tears streamed from his new eyes. He could not stop them. Gideon nudged him hard in the ribs. “Never mind. Shut up, will you! Keep it to yourself. You’re supposed to be deaf. You’re mute, remember? Remember what we agreed. I’ll be up to the neck in trouble for taking you in if they get wise to who you ¬really are. There’s a reward for turning in followers of Yeshua.” When Gideon paused, Peniel instantly recognized the glint of temptation that brightened Gideon’s expression. Then, giving his head a little shake, Gideon patted his lame leg, as if to remind himself of why he must shield Peniel. Peniel would take him to Yeshua. Yeshua would heal Gideon’s leg. Yes. It was important that Peniel survive. With a shrug and a wave of his hand, Gideon indicated that they had arrived at his home. It was a lean-to of dried olive branches propped against a stone pillar. Exhausted, Peniel sank down on the straw mat, leaned his back against the pillar, and adjusted his keffiyeh. Concealing his identity behind the green cloak, hiding himself, he closed his eyes and clasped his knees. He slept. Hours passed. It was twilight when Gideon broke bread without making the blessing and jabbered in a lowered voice, “No doubt what they’re all afraid of . . . Pilate, I mean . . . Caiaphas . . . the rest . . .” He passed a chunk of bread to Peniel, who regretted that he could not pray the prayer out loud. Stuffing his mouth, Gideon continued his monologue. “Think what Yeshua could do with an army of beggars. Now ¬wouldn’t that be a sight? The lame. The deaf and the blind all sitting in the Chamber of Hewn Stone. Well, I suppose in a way the lame, the deaf, and the blind are already sitting in the chamber. But I mean, what if it was us, not them?” Peniel wished he could tell Gideon to shut up, but he ¬couldn’t even open his mouth to do that. He had promised to play the part of a deaf mute. Exchanging one infirmity for another so he would not be found out. He heard the stumping of Amos the dwarf, as the little man approached the shelter. His large head tilted on sloping shoulders as he peered in at Peniel and smiled. “Who’s your friend, Gideon? Introduce me?” Amos scratched grumpy jowls with stubby fingers. “A friend.” Gideon had not thought far enough ahead to have a good story at hand.

“To ¬every answer you can find a new question, eh?” Amos bowed curtly to Peniel. “Shalom.” Peniel did not respond, though it was difficult. He had always liked Amos. The dwarf’s soul was straight and tall, though it was trapped inside this bent and stunted skeleton. He was a fountain spouting proverbs for all occasions. “He’s deaf,” Gideon blurted, as if to remind Peniel that he must not reply. Amos scrunched his face and raised his hand in silent greeting. “Better dignified silence than a lie, eh? Deaf, eh? He looks like Peniel, ¬don’t you think? A lot. Almost identical. Except for the eyes.” Peniel would have liked to invite Amos to come along to Galilee. Couldn’t Yeshua make a small man large? Was such a thing any more difficult than giving a blind man eyes? Gideon, as if reading Peniel’s mind, cast a stern look of warning in his direction. “I say,” Amos croaked in his pinched voice, “he does look a lot like Peniel. Only Peniel ¬didn’t have brown eyes, did he? Is he crying? Are those tears? When the eyes ¬don’t see, the heart ¬doesn’t ache, eh? But to see what’s here. Oy! The suffering! Now that’ll make you weep.” The lie grew. “This is Peniel’s cousin. A relative from Hebron.” “His cousin? Well, then. That explains it. They look an awful lot alike. The whole family must be accursed.” Peniel pretended not to hear the insult. Now that he had seen Amos in the light of day, it was clear the dwarf had no right to criticize Peniel. Or Peniel’s cousin either. “So what’s Peniel’s cousin doing here?” Amos leaned close to examine Peniel’s eyes. “And why is he crying?” Gideon feigned unconcern, though beads of sweat popped out on his brow. “Looking for Peniel, I suppose. Yes. That’s it. He’s looking for Peniel. Weeping because he ¬can’t find him.” The huge head bobbed up and down in comprehension as the dwarf whispered conspiratorially. He pronounced each word very carefully, as though attempting to help Peniel read his lips: “Well . . . tell . . . Peniel’s . . . deaf cousin . . . he’s . . . not . . . the . . . ¬only . . . one . . . looking . . . for . . . Peniel . . . will you?” A grin. A rapid batting of eyelashes. “This morning, Gideon, after you left, four men of the Temple Guard returned. Still looking for Peniel. Peniel the blind beggar, they said, somehow got his sight. Some sort of pretend miracle, they said. Some charlatan from Galilee pretended to heal Peniel on the Sabbath. Broke the Sabbath. Made Peniel a new set of brown eyes out of spit and clay. And now the Temple rulers would like to take out the brown eyes and examine them close up.” Amos raised his brows and tucked his chin in a way that let Peniel know that Amos knew the truth. Gideon grew very pale. “They came back?” “Looking for Peniel,” Amos confirmed. “Anyone else know?”

Amos glanced over his shoulder. “No,” he said hesitantly. “But I think Zacharias suspects.” “The scum.” “He just left. Good thing he stutters. It’ll take him an hour to spit out the fact that Peniel is . . . well . . . you know . . . so! If this cousin of Peniel wants to save Peniel’s life, it’d be wise if he left. Better a live dog than a dead lion, eh? ¬I’m betting Zacharias will be back, and he won’t be alone.” Gideon’s expression was stunned. “Will you tell them you’ve seen us?” Amos smirked. “No.” “Good.” “Not if you take me with you, eh?” Amos patted Peniel’s head as if he were a child. “Whoever can make a blind man see can make a small man grow, eh? Take me with you. ¬I’m weary of spending my life staring at the knees of Pharisees. The ¬only time ¬I’m equal is when they kneel to pray. Then ¬I’m a bit taller. Can he make me like other men, you think?” Peniel opened his mouth to speak. “You must come.” “Shut up!” Gideon slammed his fist on Peniel’s shoulder. Amos laughed. “Keen sight does not make for brains, eh? So. Now. Another miracle for the family of Peniel. The deaf cousin hears and speaks. I must meet the miracle worker who’s done this!” “All right.” Gideon, disgusted, scrambled up and grabbed his crutch. “You can come. And we’re leaving now.”

The shrill cry of the Hawk sounded as he circled above Lily. His shadow brushed her. Lily glanced up the slope. Cantor was waiting on their boulder. Grinning, he waved broadly to her and cupped his hands around his mouth to shout, “Lily! Hey! Come up!” She hiked slowly up the hill. She did not want him to see the ache that filled her at the thought of his leaving. “You’re finished packing?” she asked, sitting next to Cantor. He scoffed. “Packing? I’ve got enough dried venison for a week and a note to the Messiah written by Rabbi Ahava.” “Messiah. You believe the stories then? The legend of King David’s prophecy? About God’s Son coming here some day to lead the lepers out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death?” Cantor frowned. “I’ve dreamed of green pastures. Looked for the coming of the Good Shepherd ¬every time some half-dead exile stumbles down the path to us. I have to go see for myself. For the sake of ¬everyone here in Mak’ob.” “Sure.” “But . . . what, Lily?” “When will you come back?” “Soon as I know for certain.” Lily wrapped her arms around her knees and gazed out over the Valley. “Jekuthiel said the same thing to Deborah. Can you tell me when? When I can

look for you? What month I should stop looking and say, ‘Well, then, I guess he’s never coming’?” “The end of summer. I’ll come to you when the vine leaves turn.” “Well, then. When the leaves turn.” She was resigned. “It’ll feel like forever.” “But the day will come! The people of this Valley have been waiting since the time of David for their deliverer to come.” “What’s another thousand years to wait until we marry?” She gave a bitter laugh. “Time passes. And maybe we won’t come back alone. Maybe we’ll bring Messiah here!” “The women at the wash trough this morning said that any prophet who entered our Valley—or touched a leper—¬couldn’t be righteous or the Anointed One. To touch a leper is to become a leper.” “You know the stories. Isaiah says that Messiah will be like us. Chadel! Rejected! Tsara! Stricken! ‘And by his wounds we will be healed.’ ”23 “If ¬only I could believe it. No one knows what that can mean. Messiah? A leper like us?” “It is written that he will be made like us, yes. I ¬don’t ¬understand how it will happen, but if he’s out there—Outside—I want to see for myself.” “But I won’t know what to believe when you’re gone, Cantor. Who will teach me? Who will make me laugh?” “The children.” “Will you come back for me? Even if you ¬don’t find your Messiah? Or will you stay Outside? Perish looking for him?” He took her shrunken hand and kissed the place her fingers once had been. “Listen! I was talking to the rabbi a while ago. He says he has nothing to do tonight that would keep him from performing a wedding. Would you? Would you marry me tonight, Lily? We ¬don’t have to wait. We’ll have tonight, Lily. And when we say good-bye tomorrow, you’ll know I’ll come back for my wife.”

Peniel, Amos, and Gideon had not gone far in the twilight before proof of Zacharias the hunchback’s crooked soul became evident. Just as Amos suspected, Zacharias had indeed hopped off to fetch the Temple Guard. Now, just beyond the junction of the roads, Peniel heard the traitor’s stammering voice, accompanied by the plodding noise of well-shod feet. “P-Peniel! The beggar’s name. We all knew him. He’s a sly one, that one is. I always suspected he might not truly be b-blind. His p-parents will be losing a good bit of income from his alms now that the truth is out.” Peniel, terrified, froze in place. “Hide!” Amos snapped. Peniel covered his face with his hands. Darkness! It was the ¬only shelter he knew. “No, no, you fool!” The dwarf jumped up, grabbed Peniel’s arm, and dragged him to the ground. “Get down!”

Gideon clutched Peniel’s sleeve and grasped Amos by the hair. He pulled them into an alleyway and thrust them behind a rubbish heap just in time. The troop rounded the corner. Gideon peeked out and then displayed ten fingers to indicate the number of guards following the hunchback. Amos nodded. Peniel peered between his fingers. Zacharias’ voice rang out clearly. “Never knew exactly where ¬P-Peniel stood on issues about priests and such. Careful about what he said, he was. But he’s made it clear enough now, your honor. Tried to recruit us all, with talk about Messiah and the like,” he lied. A gruff reply. Eglon. “You’ll testify to what you heard?” “For a p-price.” “The high priest has announced the condition for collecting the reward.” “Well then, I’ll say whatever his honor likes.” Peniel swallowed hard. Amos kneaded Peniel’s forearm. The dwarf trembled. Another guard with a higher-pitched, singsong quality to his voice: “You say this Peniel’s in the beggar’s camp? The beggar’s camp?” “Sure. Sure. Under the viaduct. Came a while ago. In the company of G— Gideon the lame.” The bolts of shop doors slammed home; window shutters thudded into place. “And was Yeshua with him?” Eglon persisted. “No. No,” Zacharias answered. “But did Peniel say anything about this Galilean?” “Oh, yes. Yes. Said he’s the Messiah,” Zacharias insisted. “Well, then. Out of his own mouth, eh?” Eglon laughed harshly. “The imposter must still be around the city somewhere. Or P-Peniel ¬wouldn’t be here.” “So. Takes guts to stay in Yerushalayim what with the chief priests being in such a dark mood. I’ll give him that. Guts.” Eglon shook his head. The hunchback scuttled like a crab on the sand before the boots of the police. “Caiaphas will have his guts,” Zacharias quipped. “And I’ll have the reward, eh?” They passed the alleyway where the trio hid. “Yes. Well done, you, if he’s caught. A year’s wages. All the better if Peniel’s trail takes us to Yeshua.” “Well done, well done,” the other guard cackled. “To Yeshua!” Peniel’s heart raced. What am I doing? Will I lead this pack of wolves straight to the Teacher? The voices faded, blended in with the tumult of the street. The last carts leaving the city for the evening rattled by, drowning out the last of their conversation. It was a long time before any of the three fugitives ventured to speak. “Better a good enemy than a bad friend. And that’s the proof of it.” Gideon exhaled a long sigh of relief. “Nothing else to do. ¬I’m going back there. Under the viaduct. I’ll spy out the lay of the land.” Amos screwed up his face in consternation. “The lay of the land? What’s that?”