The Expected One (46 page)

The centurion pulled a key out from under his tunic and slipped it into the door, releasing the lock and allowing Mary entrance to her husband’s cell. Mary discovered many years later how Claudia and Salome had accomplished this feat of securing the keys and removing the guards — it had involved massive bribery and no small personal cost to the Herodian princess. Mary would be grateful for the rest of her life to the Roman woman Claudia Procula and to her friend, the misunderstood Salome — not just for the events of this night, but also for those on the terrible day that would follow.

Mary had to resist the urge to cry out in despair when she saw Easa. He had been beaten — badly. There were bruises on his beautiful face, and she saw him fight back the wince as he rose to embrace her. She whispered her question as she looked over his battered face.

“Who did this to you? The men of Caiaphas and Annas?”

“Shh. Listen to me, my Mary, as there is little time and much to say. There is no place for blame, as blame brings only vengeance. When we forgive we are closest to God. That is what we are here to teach the children of Israel and the rest of the earth. Take this with you and teach it to everyone who will listen, in memory of me.”

It was Mary’s turn to wince. She couldn’t bear to hear Easa speaking of himself this way, as if his death were assured. Sensing her despair, he spoke to her gently.

“Last night in Gethsemane, I went to pray to the Lord our father. I asked him to take this cup away from me, if that was His will. But He did not. He did not because
this
is His will. There is no other way, don’t you see? The people are not able to understand the kingdom of God without a supreme example. I will be that. I will show them that I can die for them and do so without pain or fear. Our Lord showed me the cup and I drank from it and did so joyously. It is done.”

Mary could not stop the flow of tears, but she was trying hard not to sob. Any noise could give them away. Easa attempted to comfort her.

“You must be strong now, my dove, because you will take the true Nazarene Way with you, and you will teach it to the world. The others will do their best as well, and I gave each of them instructions after the supper. But only you know everything that is in my heart and my head, so you must become the next leader of our people, and our children after you.”

Mary was trying to think clearly. She needed to be focused on Easa’s last requests, not on her own grief. She would have time to mourn later. Now she had to be worthy of his trust as a leader of the Nazarenes.

“Easa, not all of the men love me, as you know. Some of them will not follow me. Although you have taught them to treat women as equals, I fear that once you are gone…that understanding will wane. How would you have me tell them that you have chosen me to lead the Nazarenes?”

“I have been thinking of this tonight,” he answered. “First, you alone have the Book of Love.”

Mary nodded. Easa had spent a large part of his ministry writing the Nazarene beliefs and his own understandings in a volume they referred to as the Book of Love. The other disciples knew about it, but Easa had never shared it with anyone but Mary. It was kept safely under lock and key at her home in Galilee.

“I have always said that the Book of Love would never see the light while I lived on earth, for as long as I was here, it was incomplete,” Easa continued. “Every minute of every day that I have lived, God has brought me a new understanding. Every person I have ever encountered has taught me more about the nature of God. I have written these things in the Book of Love. When I am gone, you must take it and make it the cornerstone of all teachings that will follow.”

Mary nodded her understanding. The Book of Love was indeed a beautiful and powerful memorial to all that Easa had taught in his life. His disciples would be honored and awed to learn from it.

“There is something else, Mary. I will give the men a sign, something that tells them clearly that you are my chosen successor. Fear not, little dove, for I will let the world know that you are my most beloved disciple.”

Easa placed his hands on Mary’s swollen abdomen. There was so much to say yet. “This child you carry, this son of ours, he has the blood of prophets and kings, as our daughter does. Their descendants shall take their place in the world, preaching the kingdom of God and the words contained within the Book of Love so that all people will know peace and justice the world over.” The babe kicked in answer to the prophecy that his father spoke. “This child has a special destiny in the western islands where the word of The Way will spread. I have given my uncle, Joseph, instructions on this child’s upbringing. You must trust Joseph and allow this child to go where God takes him.”

Mary accepted this. Joseph was a great man, wise and strong and worldly. He traveled extensively in his trade as a tin merchant. As a young man, Easa had accompanied Joseph to the misty green isles west of Gaul. He once told Mary that while there he had a premonition of the Nazarene Way growing among the fierce, blue-eyed people who inhabited the islands.

“And you must name him Yeshua-David, in memory of me and the founder of our royal line. The greatest king to rule on earth will come from his blood.”

Mary agreed to Easa’s request, asking next, “What would you instruct me regarding our Sarah-Tamar?”

Easa smiled at the mention of his precious daughter. “She must stay with you until she is a woman grown, and then she will make her own choice. She has your strength, our Tamar. But Israel will not be safe for you and the children, I have seen this. Joseph will take you to Egypt, along with as many of the others who choose to leave. Alexandria is a great center of learning and is safe for our people. You may choose to stay there or go farther away, to the west countries. I will leave that to you, Mary. You must decide what is best in order for the teachings of the Nazarenes to go on into the world. Follow your heart and trust in God to guide you.”

“And what of Little John?” Mary asked. Easa had always treated the child as his own son, but his blood and destiny would always be different; they both knew that.

Easa’s eyes clouded with knowing. “Even at this age, John is strong-willed and unsettled. You are his mother and you will guide him, but John will need the influence of men to shape his restlessness. He is much loved by Peter and Andrew. When John is older, he may do well to foster with Peter or his brother.”

Easa didn’t need to elaborate; Mary knew what he meant by this. Peter and Andrew had once been followers of the Baptizer, and they had all known each other since they were children in Galilee, attending the temple at Capernaeum. Peter and Andrew revered Little John as the son of a great prophet in his own right as well as Easa’s foster child.

“I have words of thanks and comfort for one more person,” Easa said. “To the Roman woman Claudia Procula, I would have you say that I left this world in her debt. She sacrificed much to get you here to me, and I thank her. Tell her she must not judge her husband too harshly. Pontius Pilate must choose his master, and I have seen that he will choose poorly. But in the end, his choice will fulfill God’s plan for us all.”

Easa gave further directions to his wife, some of a spiritual nature and some practical, before his final words of comfort to her. “Be strong, no matter what comes tomorrow. Do not fear for me, as I feel no fear for myself. I am content to take the cup of our Father and join Him in heaven, Mary. Be a leader of the people and be not afraid. Remember who you are at all times. You are a queen, you are a Nazarene, and you are my wife.”

A shattered Mary stumbled through the streets of Jerusalem behind Salome as the sky began to grow lighter with the first essence of dawn light. The princess had a house that would be safe for them, and it was there that she had instructed the messenger to take Martha and the children. Once Mary was safely ensconced in the house, waiting for her sister-in-law to come with John and Tamar, Salome set off to find another messenger to send to the Great Mary and the others at Gethsemane.

Elsewhere in Jerusalem, another noble woman, the lady Claudia Procula, was feeling the enormous burden that awaited her family that day. She slept fitfully when exhaustion finally claimed her late in the night. Once the Greek had come to tell her that their mission to the Nazarene’s wife had been successful, she allowed herself to close her eyes.

Claudia awakened in a cold sweat. The haunting dream had her in its throes. She could feel it swirling around her in the room. She closed her eyes, but the images remained, as did the sound of a chant that filled her head. A chorus of voices, hundreds strong, perhaps thousands, repeated the phrase “crucified under Pontius Pilate, crucified under Pontius Pilate.” There was more to the chant, repeated obediently by the voices in her dream, but she heard nothing else, just those four words.

As disturbing as the nightmare sounds were, the sights were worse. It had started out as a beautiful dream, with children dancing on a grassy hill in the springtime sun. Easa stood in the middle of a circle, surrounded by children who were all dressed in white. Pilo was among the children who laughed and danced, as was Smedia. The hill was filling now with people of all ages dressed in white, smiling and singing.

Claudia recognized one of the arriving men in the dream as Praetorus, the centurion who had been healed of a broken hand. The man had confided in her about his own healing after hearing the whispered rumors of Pilo’s miracle. But as she came to the realization that every one of the smiling souls in the dream, adults and children, had been healed by Easa, the landscape changed. The dancing stopped and the sky grew dark as the sound of the chant grew louder and louder: “crucified under Pontius Pilate, crucified under Pontius Pilate.”

Claudia watched in the dreamscape as her beloved Pilo fell to the ground. The last image before she awoke was that of Easa bending over to lift him. He carried Pilo away without looking back as the others fell to the ground around them. She saw her husband then, screaming in futile agony at the retreating form of Easa the Nazarene as he departed with Pilo’s lifeless body. Lightning ripped the sky as the sound of the chant followed them down the hill.

“Crucified under Pontius Pilate.”

“Crucify him!” This was a new sound. Not the eerie chant from the nightmare, but the real sound of hate coming from beyond the walls outside the Fortress Antonia. “Crucify him!”

Claudia rose to dress as the Greek slave rushed into the room.

“My lady, you must come before it is too late. The master sits in the judgment seat and the priests are baying for blood.”

“Who do I hear outside?”

“A great mob. It is early for so many to be here. The men of the Temple must have worked through the night to ensure a large crowd. The sentence will be passed before the rest of Jerusalem has the chance to rally for your Nazarene’s sake.”

Claudia dressed quickly and without her usual care. She had no interest in her appearance today; she simply had to be decent enough to appear before the men attending the tribunal. As she glanced quickly in the mirror, a thought struck her hard.

“Where is Pilo? He is not awake yet, is he?”