Jerusalem's Hope (23 page)

“What does that mean?” Ha-or Tov asked, bewildered.

Zadok replied, “This was Torah's first prophecy about the coming Savior, our Messiah. It was the beginning of war between the Lord and Lucifer over the souls of mankind. It is the promise of God that someday a woman will give birth to a righteous son who will fight against the Evil One and win the battle over death.”

“Will there be armies?” Emet clasped his knees and pictured thousands of armed soldiers facing one another in the valley.

Zadok explained, “No. There will, in the end, be only Messiah standing alone against all the forces of evil and darkness. Our Savior will be a man of sorrows. The whole world, even his friends, will turn against him. He will meet death despised and betrayed by all.”

“But why?” Emet felt a pang of grief.

Avel's expression was full of anguish. “It's not fair!”

Zadok calmly traced the words of the scroll for the answer. “It must be. It will be. Scripture teaches that the Lord God will send Messiah like a lamb. With his own life he will pay the penalty for man's sin once and for all. His blood will redeem our souls from Satan's power. Satan demands our deaths because we have broken God's commands. But God's mercy provides the Messiah to die in our place. By his blood we are offered eternal life if we believe. The prophet Isaiah tells it clearly. See here?”

The old shepherd unrolled another document and scanned the contents until he found what he was looking for. “Here it is. Plain as can be. By Messiah's wounds we are healed. He'll live among us within the humanfold as God's perfect lamb. There will be no sin in him. He'll teach us about God's love. He'll give sight to the blind. The deaf will hear. He'll mend the hearts of the lonely. In the end he'll lay down his life as the final sacrifice for all men, everywhere. Then the Lord of heaven will look down on us . . . like Old Girl looks at her orphans. They are adopted and loved, because they are clothed in the coat of one she loved. Old Girl sees only the image of her own beloved offspring. One lamb died so that many would live . . . In this same way every man, woman, and child who asks for God's mercy will be clothed in the pure white fleece of Messiah's righteousness. He is our Savior and Redeemer. And we who were lost and without hope will be adopted into God's family as his own beloved children.”

Emet considered the story of the lambs. It contained a harsh and horrifying lesson.

Avel's eyes brimmed with sorrow. “Must he die? Will they kill him so we can live?”

The old man nodded. “I have studied a lifetime. The plan . . . It's all written in the law of Moses and in the prophets. And it's the only way.”

Avel cried out, “But we only just found him!”

Ha-or Tov whispered, “I was blind, and he made me see.”

Emet added, “And my ears are open now!”

Zadok considered this revelation. “So. He sent you ahead as messengers. Three small boys. To this house. Yes. This empty house. Well. Yes. He would do that after all. . . . And so?
Immanu'el.
God-with-us. Thirty-two years have passed since I first heard that name.” He closed the scroll. “I had almost given up hope.”

HA-NEVI'IM

C
ome morning Zadok presented each of the boys with the gift of a shepherd's staff cut to size. Perfect for Avel, Emet, and Ha-or Tov. Where had they come from? The old man simply produced them from a corner of the room, as if he had been waiting to give them away to three boys. Better than swords, they were. It came to Emet that the staffs of shepherds were carried by lion slayers, wolf tamers, defenders of the innocent, poets, scholars, kings, and saviors!

“You'll carry these with you into Yerushalayim,” the old man announced. “At Passover. Together we'll bring in the last of the flock to the Temple. You'll enter Sheep Gate as shepherds of the flock.”

It was a great honor.

This morning, after all the lambs at the lambing barn were cared for, the trio of apprentices followed Zadok into the pastures. Red Dog followed close at the heels of Emet as he trailed after Zadok and the other two boys.

Blue Eye ran ahead, skirting the perimeter of yearling ewes pastured beyond the tower. At Zadok's command Blue Eye cut the least desirable sheep from the herd.

With the swipe of hyssop dipped in scarlet dye, Zadok marked the backs of those culled for sale and slaughter. For the sake of his apprentices the old man listed the conditions of rejection. “Unsuitable for breeding. Too small. See here? Hindquarters too close. That one? Narrow shoulders. Feel the fleece. And now this one. Inferior grade of wool. You'll learn. In time, you'll learn. There. That one! Stringy muscles. Tough meat. And that? Swaybacked. Lame . . .” The list of reasons grew as the flock master worked. Only perfection would do in breeding stock. Those who did not measure up would pass bad qualities on to offspring and ultimately diminish the standards of the future herd. Therefore the yearling ewes reserved for breeding had to measure up in every way.

Those not good enough would be sold off to the Roman garrison at Herodium at fair market price, stringy meat notwithstanding.

The officer was coming this very morning, Zadok explained. There would be bargaining and counteroffers for the inferior sheep, but the end was inevitable. Rome would buy.

It was Avel who first spotted the approach of the tall black horse and his Roman rider. The proud creature pranced nervously past the fields of bleating livestock. The eyes of the warhorse rolled in suspicion and terror at acres of woolly backs.

Zadok observed the skittish progress of man and mount as they neared the Tower of Migdal Eder. “He should have come on foot.”

There was something familiar about the horse, Emet thought, as the centurion came closer. They had seen him yesterday, but the recollection of familiarity had not become clear until now. What was it?

Avel remarked, “His horse.” Avel nudged Emet. “I think . . . look! It's the same horse who threw Kittim on his head at the rebel camp!”

And so it was. Only in full-blown wildness did the identity of the animal become certain. Black, proud, nostrils flared, eyes wild and rolled to one side, the creature progressed at a sideways skip across the field. Emet grinned at the recollection of the wild men of bar Abba's band trying to ride the creature into submission. One by one the rebels had been thrown off like rag dolls into the mud. Emet, Ha-or Tov, and Avel had cheered for the horse as it reared and tore itself free from its tormentors. Kittim, a devil in the skin of a man, had been determined to butcher the animal for meat. But Kittim had been defeated in the end. The beast had fled into the wilderness beyond Jericho. Apparently it had been found and semi-tamed.

“So,” Avel remarked with satisfaction. “He's fetched up under a Roman saddle. If a Roman can ride something that terrible, bar Abba should be worried.”

Ha-or Tov laughed. “For the moment. Looks like the Roman won't be on board long.”

But the centurion remained solidly on the back of his mount, as if such equine antics were normal.

Zadok strode toward the tower where they would meet. There was business to transact.

The soldier did not glance to the right or the left at hostile glares from the shepherds as he rode up the slope. And when stock dogs charged unchecked by their masters to snarl at the hooves of the stallion, the rider sat calmly atop his frantic mount. His demeanor seemed to say this was all in a day's work.

The Roman was a fellow who, in retrospect, made the bandits of bar Abba's camp appear to be clumsy fools, Emet thought. He said, “When we saw him first in Yerushalayim he didn't seem a bad sort.”

Zadok's brow furrowed. “Where do you know this Roman from?”

Avel explained, “He's the centurion who gave Emet alms the morning we left to find the rebels!”

Zadok considered this information with interest as they watched from the knoll. “He knows you then?” Zadok's tone indicated the Roman wasn't fully human and certainly couldn't be trusted.

“Yes, sir. We were running away from Yerushalayim because Kittim, who was the leader of the quarry Sparrows, beat me and said he would kill me. The Roman was waiting in the street across from the old palace of Herod. It was raining, and we didn't see his armor under his cloak. I told him we were going to find the rebel bar Abba and learn to kill Romans.”

“And what did he say to that?” Zadok inquired.

“He gave me two silver denarii,” Emet explained. “Not a bad man, sir.”

“A Roman. They don't give unless it's to gain something by it,” Zadok remarked with passion. “Remember this, boy.”

“Yes, sir.” Emet ducked his chin. Was old Zadok angry with him?

The centurion was upon them. He saluted Zadok in Roman fashion, his fist over his heart.

Red Dog crouched and snarled. Zadok did not call him off instantly, but waited as the Roman horse spun in a tight circle.

“You should have come on foot,” Zadok admonished. “Warhorses don't like sheep.”

The soldier patted the lather-flecked neck of his horse and replied, “Now you know the secret of defeating a Roman cavalry in battle: send out a flock of sheep . . . before your infantry.” He flashed a smile. “And your sheep dogs. Don't forget the dogs.”

Zadok snapped his fingers, commanding Red Dog and Blue Eye to his side. They sank back, panting, on their haunches. The horse calmed a bit.

The Roman said, “There's nothing a Roman cohort fears more than a flock of sheep. Especially those sheep that pasture near Migdal Eder in Beth-lehem.” He stepped down from the stallion. “I promise you, my men will not go near them again!”

Zadok, resolute and stern, replied stiffly, “Then they have learned a well-taught lesson, Centurion Marcus Longinus.”

“Zadok, chief shepherd of the flock . . . My men tremble at the sound of a single bleat.” Marcus raised his hand as if taking an oath.

A glint of humor passed across the old shepherd's face. “We have a less fierce flock to sell you. No warrior lambs. Your men need not tremble over their stew any longer.”

“Well, then.” The centurion sounded pleased.

Emet thought that the Roman was not so bad as Zadok imagined. But the boy looked down quickly, lest anyone see in his eyes he did not hate the fellow.

The Roman took notice of Avel and Emet. “And you're here. I saw you yesterday but was unsure. . . . Emet . . . Truth . . . that's your name, isn't it? I remember. And Avel! The Jerusalem Sparrows who were away to the wilderness to find the rebel camp! To fight at bar Abba's side!” He eyed the crooked staffs. “A better sort of weapon than a sword. So how many enemies have you slain?”

Avel's chin jutted out. “Not so many as your horse, I'd say.”

The Roman laughed and gave the muzzle of his horse an affectionate stroke. “Pavor only shakes at the sight of sheep, as I said.”

Emet ventured, “But we found Yeshua . . . the one you told us to find.”

Amazement passed over Marcus' rock-hard features. “I can hear that fact with my own ears, boy. You speak well enough. I'm glad for it.”

“He sent us here,” Ha-or Tov volunteered.

But the boys had said too much to the Roman. Zadok stepped between them and Marcus.

Zadok intoned, “You will excuse my lads' forwardness in speaking to an officer of Rome. There's work in the stable for them and bargaining for us. I have a number of sheep I can sell you.”

“And I've brought the price of redemption.” Marcus withdrew a leather pouch from his armor. “Thirty pieces of Temple coin as agreed.”

“A fresh beginning,” said Zadok, accepting the payment. “So. We start on level ground.”

With that Zadok sent the boys back to chores in the barn. He did not invite the Gentile into the Tower of Migdal Eder. Their business would be settled outside, in the sheep pens.

Avel and Ha-or Tov had been assigned to help with shearing.

Emet, much to Lev's displeasure, was left at the stable to perform menial chores.

Old Girl had fed her troops. She munched contentedly on the grain Emet provided for her. By night a fresh supply of milk would replenish the sagging, deflated udder.

For the moment her four lambs were gorged, bellies fat and round. They watched drowsily as Emet cleaned the enclosure.

Such a tiny pen, Emet thought as he removed the trampled straw.

“All right then,” Lev instructed, wanting to be rid of him. “After y' fetch water, go to the tower.”

Emet did not reply. There was one more thing he wanted to do before the day was gone.

The black lamb waited at the gate for Emet and Blue Eye. Emet dropped a loop of twine around Bear's throat, cracked the gate to let him out, then led him toward the sunlight.