The Hidden Flame (30 page)

"Then the angel turned and relocked the gate-and he was gone. Just like that." Peter waved a hand. "In a blink of an eye, he disappeared."

He paused to look around at their attentive faces, then said, "We just stood there and stared at one another."

John put in with a chuckle, "I think he would have stood there until the sun came up if James hadn't said, `Well, I guess we might as well go home.' " They all laughed in response to the wit, but the sound was also full of relief and joy as the followers celebrated the moment with pats on the back and embraces.

"So we did," finished Peter, his usually serious face also lighting up with the humor of it all.

Abigail looked around the group. Where there previously had been doubt and fear, she saw expressions of thanksgiving. She could sense the release of tension-felt it herself.

Her eyes sought out Stephen. He was pressed in close to the group that had been delivered from their jailers, obviously captivated by every word of the report. Now and then his head would nod in agreement or his lips would form an amen.

But Peter was not finished. His face was again sober. "They will not be happy when they discover we are gone. They have already warned us to stop teaching. But, brothers and sisters, God has given us a message to be proclaimed. There is no time to waste. We cannot, must not, disobey our Master."

"What will you do?" The question on everyone's tongue was voiced by someone Abigail could not see.

"We will go to the Temple court and teach," Peter said, moving as if to be on his way.

"And by this evening you will be back in prison," spoke up another member of the group.

"That will be fine," another called out. "They get arrested, and God's angel turns them loose." Several voices joined in laughter.

But Peter raised a hand for silence. "Brothers and sisters, it matters not. Perhaps the next time they arrest us we will not be delivered. Nevertheless, we must do as we are commanded. Pray that all of us will continue to have boldness to preach the Word."

C H A P T E R

TWENTY-SIX

EZRA HAD HURRIED TO THE TEMPLE as soon as the morning kaddish was recited. The streets of Jerusalem were painted in a soft dawn glow. The air was sweet, cleansed and perfumed by a rare summer shower that had lasted until nearly dawn. The sky was now clear, the breeze light. It would have made for a fine walk along familiar streets except for what awaited him up ahead.

He entered the Council chambers to discover the entire Sanhedrin already gathered, along with many of the same city elders who had yesterday jammed into the room. Gamaliel gestured him over, looking very troubled. "The guards should be back with our prisoners at any moment."

"Something is amiss?"

"I am beset by troubling-" The Pharisee broke off as the chambers' doors slowly opened. Three guards stood on the threshold looking ashen.

The high priest demanded, "Where are my prisoners?"

The men looked at each other, then the bravest one said, "Sire, forgive me. But they are gone."

Caiaphas leapt to his feet, his face terrible to see.

The senior guard quickly said, "My men were on station as always outside the prison. The doors were locked. But when we went in this morning, the cells were empty. All of them."

"Your men fell asleep!"

"Sire, that was my first thought also. But these are my best men. I would trust them with my life. And they give me their solemn word that none of them slept an instant."

"How am I-?"

The high priest was cut short by the outer doors slamming back. A wide-eyed guard rushed between his cohorts and shouted, "They are back!"

"Who? Where?"

"The prophet's men, the apostles. They are back on Solomon's Porch! They are preaching to the crowd!"

Ezra, stunned by the news, looked around the room. None seemed capable of speech.

Then the high priest shouted, "Bring them to me!"

"Wait!" Gamaliel's voice carried such authority the guards turned back as one. The Pharisee turned to the high priest and urged, "We must take great caution."

The high priest's face turned almost purple with rage. "These men were arrested on my authority, they escaped from prison, and you tell me to use caution?"

"Precisely." Gamaliel turned to ask the guard, "How large are the crowds?"

"More than yesterday, sire. Thousands come to listen to them."

"Just as I feared. If we go out and strike them a second time in public, we may be faced with a riot. Imagine what would happen, several thousand people rising up inside the Temple compound. It would give the Romans precisely the excuse they seek to invade our sacred area and take control."

The high priest slumped back in his chair, his mouth working before he managed to say hoarsely, "Bring them here, but use no force."

The guards stood uncertainly until the high priest's son-in-law, who shared the Council's most senior position, snapped, "Carry out your orders."

The chamber waited in absolute silence. Ezra thought he could hear his heart beating. Time moved by at a tortured crawl until finally the doors opened once more. The guards shepherded in a small group of men. The high priest demanded, "Is this the lot?"

"All who were speaking this morning, sire."

"Shut the doors and guard them well." The high priest glowered at the men standing before him. "We, the High Council of Judea, ordered you never again to speak in the name of your dead prophet!"

The one who seemed to be the chief among these apostles, the broad-shouldered one who was said to be a fisherman from the Galilee, replied, "We must obey God rather than orders from men. Jehovah has raised Jesus from the dead and declared him the Messiah, to bring Israel to repentance. We are witnesses of all this, as is the Holy Spirit, the one God has given to those who obey."

Ezra felt as though a veil were suddenly lifted from his eyes. It was not the man's words, which were outrageous to all the learned men gathered within the Council. And certainly it was not the way this man spoke, which was quite common, as befitting his heritage. But rather there was something about the man himself, a power so great it silenced the entire chamber.

The place was suddenly filled with strident voices, all of them calling for the apostles to be put to death.

Above the din, one voice again called out, "Wait!"

It was the power of Gamaliel's reputation, as much as his voice, that silenced the room. The high priest said, "Speak."

"I ask that you remove these men from our presence."

The high priest motioned impatiently to the guards. "Do as he says."

When the doors closed behind the departing men, Gamaliel said, "We have seen our share of false prophets and impostor messiahs. These are perilous times, and our people can easily be led astray. But what has happened in the past? The teachers were killed and their followers dispersed."

"What are you saying?" Caiaphas visibly was controlling himself with great effort.

"Only this. I advise the Council to let these men go."

Ezra watched his friend with a mixture of trepidation and awe. Was the man mad.. . or heroic?

Gamaliel's next words were drowned out by the tumult. He waited quietly until the room returned to silence, then said, ,if their purpose and actions are those of mortal men, they will fail. But if it is from God, how can you possibly stop them? You will only find yourselves fighting against our Lord Jehovah!"

To Ezra's astonishment, the entire Council around the head table looked subdued. The only voices that rose in protest belonged to the people crowded about the room. Those with the power to judge and condemn were clearly being influenced by what Gamaliel had just said.

Ezra forced himself to swallow his own protest. What good would it do? He was not a member of the Council. Ezra looked over at Gamaliel and felt the bitter wrath rise anew. He had been betrayed by his oldest friend.

Ezra stood in silence as the apostles were brought back in. The high priest sternly ordered them never to speak the name of Jesus again, then commanded the guards to take them out and publicly flog them.

Ezra left the chamber immediately after the apostles were taken away. He heard someone call his name. But he did not turn around. His mind and heart were clenched in the rage-filled certainty that it was not over. And vengeance would have to come from another source.

Linux drifted in that vague state between waking and sleeping. Every time his slumber grew deeper, his dreams were filled with images of Alban's eyes imploring him to understand, to accept, and of people lining one side of the street. But in Linux's dream, he too was lying there, trapped upon one of the pallets with all the other sick and maimed and insane. Waiting for the shadow of a bearded Judean to fall upon him.

Somewhere toward dawn he was aware of a furtive sound, of a shadow passing over his bed. He knew he should open his eyes and investigate. But nights of broken slumber had left him exhausted. As the sounds drew him further awake, he decided that if it was a thief, he was welcome to what little there was to take if Linux could just have a few decent hours of rest in exchange.

Later he awoke to brilliant sunlight, the sun filling the room. He lay as he was, staring at the dusty footprints meandering across the floor and ending at his bed. "Who is there?"

"Only me, sire."

"Jacob?"

"Yes, sire."

"Why are you under my bed?"

Jacob rolled from underneath, dragging a filthy cover with him. The blanket smelled of horses and sweat, which suggested he had found it in the corral and brought it up with him. "Please don't send me back, sire. I am an excellent servant, as you know. I can see to your needs until-"

A voice from the other room demanded, "Who's that I hear speaking?"

Jacob's face tightened in very real fear. He scrambled back under the bed as hesitant footsteps sounded across the adjoining room.

The old servant, Julian, limped into view bearing a mug. "Are you given to conversing with ghosts now?"

"Not unless the ghosts possess filthy feet and eat for ten."

"Ah. The boy you were telling me about."

"None other." Linux sat up in bed, accepted the mug, and kicked a heel under the bed. "Come out, Jacob. Let Julian have a look at you."

The elderly man, a former legionnaire, stared at the boy. "Is that sawdust I see in your hair?"

"He's been apprenticed to a carpenter. He is not happy about it."

"I hate it all," Jacob said with a nod. "Please, sire, I beg-"

"Let me have a swallow of tea before you restart your entreaties." Linux indicated the boy with his mug. "Bring the lad something to eat."

Julian eyed the boy with distaste. "I suggest a bath first."

"At that age they can live for weeks without a wash. They do need constant feeding." When Julian stumped away, Linux said to Jacob, "Has something happened?"

"I ran away when ... well, I left. Yesterday I returned to work because I needed to eat. Then I learned ..." Jacob's words emerged in reluctant stages. "I'm afraid."

This was new. The boy had always shown courage. "What of?"