The Making of the Lamb Read online

  “With respect, Uncle, our Scripture says otherwise,” said Jesus. “In Isaiah’s book of prophecy, he says a child and son will be born to Israel, whom he also calls the Mighty God.”

  Daniel perked up and gazed silently at Jesus. Then he turned quizzically towards Joseph, seeking confirmation.

  Joseph mulled over Jesus’s objection. “I remember that passage only vaguely,” he finally responded. “I need to check the wording when I next get hold of that scroll, although I am afraid that will not be for quite some time. But I know that there is only one true God. He cannot have a son and them both be gods.”

  “I’m not sure you want to test what Jesus said,” Daniel remarked. “Remember what happened to King Nuada.” This brought a round of hearty laughter from the entire company, except Jesus. He looked at Joseph, apparently deep in thought.

  Bacchus was asked for another story. After everyone agreed that this would be the last story of the night, he told how the Celts had sacked Rome some four hundred years before.

  Joseph knew the Roman side of the tale. The Celts had been established in northern Italy, and they launched a raid deep into Etruscan territory, part of which was newly conquered by the proud Romans. The Celts returned the next year in greater numbers to defeat the Romans and capture and sack Rome itself. The Celts withdrew with their booty and never returned, but the Romans learned the lesson and built the Servian Wall around their city.

  The story from the Celtic side was far more colorful, full of tall tales of the heroes and cowards who turned the tide of war. But what really caught Joseph’s attention was in how entranced Jesus was with the tale.

  At its conclusion, Jesus leaned toward Bacchus. “Captain, do your people retain any hopes of regaining your former glory over the Romans?”

  “Mind your tongue!” Joseph glared at Jesus.

  His outburst not only cut off Bacchus from answering, but also seemed to dampen the mood of the other bargemen, who quietly retired to their own craft.

  “I—I’m sorry…” Jesus muttered.

  Wordlessly, Joseph dismissed the boys to bed.

  It didn’t help his mood to see Daniel pat Jesus’s shoulder in a friendly show of support on their way to the bow.

  Jesus must have known how his question might endanger them all if word got back to the Romans. Joseph was at a loss to understand his great-nephew. The boy was so wise on matters of Scripture, yet he seemed oblivious to the power of the Romans, rulers of the greatest part of the known world.

  Had he forgotten the nightmare of his own crucifixion? No, Jesus could not have forgotten his nightmare so soon. He must truly believe that God will save him from the cross of crucifixion to lead Israel to a glorious victory over the Romans. Joseph reconsidered whether he should set the boy straight on this prophecy, but still was convinced this was a matter in God’s hands. My job for now is to get the boy to Britain and away from the authority of the Romans—as soon as possible.

  As the Liger gradually wound its way westward, the country turned less Romanized. There were still plenty of garrisons situated along the river to prevent any trouble and to ensure the collection of the emperor’s taxes, but there were fewer Roman villas and more Celtic settlements. The river broadened as they approached the estuary, and then it became tidal and brackish, signaling the end of this peaceful leg of their journey.

  There, on the north shore of the river, sat the bustling port city of Nantes, thirty-five miles inland from the sea. The river channel was both deep and wide enough for oceangoing sailing ships.

  As soon as they alighted, Joseph felt the all-too-familiar pressures of time and money. Having seen them safely to the port, Bacchus’s contract was now fulfilled. As soon as he found another customer going upstream, he would reclaim the use of his barge. If Joseph did not find a vessel to take them to Britain by then, he would need to hire space in a warehouse. Bacchus would likely find his task far easier than Joseph’s—to find a vessel to take his party and cargo to the land of the Dumnonii in Britain.

  Joseph was taken aback when Pirro said he had no idea where to hire a craft to take them to Ictis. Before Joseph had a chance speak, Bacchus offered to help, so Joseph left Pirro, Jesus, and Daniel to guard the cargo and followed the bargeman toward the forum. Along the way it struck him that they were in one of the farthest corners of the Roman world. Few natives here understood Greek or Latin; most spoke only the Gallic Celtic tongue, which Joseph spoke with difficulty. Without Bacchus, he would have been lost.

  As the focal point of a provincial outpost, the forum turned out to be unsophisticated by Roman standards; but thankfully he found himself in more familiar surroundings where commerce was conducted in Latin. His worst fears were soon confirmed. The commercial notices had numerous postings seeking and offering charters back up the Liger by barge, and south along the coast. Some adventurous captains took their vessels all around Hispania as far as Cadiz. But not a vessel could be found heading north, and no captain he spoke to was willing to risk life and vessel, for any price, crossing the hundred-mile expanse of blue water from the northwest tip of Gaul to the western tip of Britain. They preferred to pilot their vessels close to the shoreline, where they could hope for refuge from threatening seas.

  Joseph left Bacchus in the forum and made his way back to the barge. He resigned himself to the prospect of a long wait that would eat into his profits. He felt alone. In a day or two he would have no choice but to deal with the warehousemen, a thought that made him shudder. Even in the ports where he was well known, the warehousemen were in league with one another to fix their prices, and here he was a stranger. He would be at their mercy, and there was no telling how long it would take to find the sailing ship for their next leg. Pirro said he knew the way to get us to Ictis. Did he not know that it would be hard to find a ship? Or did he decide to conceal the problem?

  As he approached the docks, he was not surprised to hear the familiar sound of the laughter of Jesus and Daniel as they dove into the river from the barge and splashed around. Two native boys their age had joined in the fun. It seemed harmless enough, though Joseph did not like the idea of strangers aboard the barge in a position to see the goods he carried. Then he noticed a native man on the barge talking to Pirro, and he wondered what his partner was up to. Pirro hailed him and excitedly waved him forward.

  Pirro introduced Joseph to his newfound companion in Greek, a language all three of them spoke fluently. “This is Kendrick.” Pirro pointed to the two boys playing with Jesus and Joseph. “Those are his sons. Not only is he the owner of a sailing vessel, but he sails regularly to western Britain, and he’s looking for cargo and passengers.”

  Joseph narrowed his eyes at Kendrick, a sunburnt man with the scarred, calloused hands of a lifelong sailor.

  Kendrick laughed. “You wonder why I don’t seek out clients at the forum.” He shook his head. “Roman merchants from here never expose their goods to the risks of an ocean crossing, nor do they care to conduct their commerce beyond the protection of the Empire.”

  “It’s true,” Joseph said. “Romans are unlike Greeks or Phoenicians in this respect.”

  Kendrick laughed again. “The Greeks revel in the uncertainties of ocean travel. But to the Romans, a trading expedition across open ocean leaves too much to chance.”

  True. The Romans tended to cross at the narrowest point, where in good weather they would stay within sight of land all the way. Joseph’s plan to sail the ancient trade route across the Oceanus Britannicus defied this wisdom, but the opportunities in the west could turn out to be the competitive edge that would make him rich. “Are you Greek, then, sir?”

  “No, I am of the Veneti.”

  “Ah! My grandfather often traded with your tribe.”

  “That would have been back in the days before Caesar, when we controlled the Atlantic trade routes to Britain,” Kendrick said.

  “Indeed,” Joseph said. “May I see your ship?”

  Kendrick allowed him to inspect the small
but stout-looking sailing vessel, and the two agreed to terms. Joseph was delighted that Kendrick was ready to sail immediately, saving him the warehousing expense.

  When Bacchus returned to his barge, Joseph and Kendrick summoned the boys from their play. Using a horse team and everyone’s muscle power, Bacchus maneuvered the barge alongside Kendrick’s ship. As they all pitched in to transfer the cargo, Kendrick marveled at the goods Joseph had accumulated. “I’ve never seen such valuable wares traveling to Britain by this route. I’ll happily take a small portion of it in lieu of cash.”

  “Really?” Joseph lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “To use on my own account with the Britons.” Kendrick winked, then walked away to supervise his crew.

  “I told you I would get us to Ictis,” Pirro whispered.

  Joseph nodded. Why did he not say he could find a ship before I went looking in the forum? It’s no matter. Maybe he didn’t want to say anything until he was sure.

  They stayed overnight aboard Kendrick’s docked ship. Just before they went to the cabin to sleep, Joseph took a walk along the wharf with Daniel. “I wish I had known that Pirro had contacts among these native ship captains. It would have saved me a great deal of worry,” he remarked.

  “I don’t think he knew anyone,” Daniel replied.

  “Then how did he find Kendrick?” Joseph asked.

  “Actually, it was Jesus’s doing. He and I were diving off the barge, and he invited the two boys to join us. We got to talking, and one of them mentioned to Jesus that their father owned a ship that often sailed to Britain. When Kendrick came along looking for his sons, Jesus took him to Pirro.”

  Joseph shook his head. The Greek was turning out to be a boastful oaf.

  And Jesus…the boy was such a mystery. He was wise beyond his years, yet as playful and innocent as a child. Now, once again, good fortune smiles upon us because of Jesus. But what if his dark nightmare is a true harbinger of things to come? The prophecy cannot be clearer; the path that Jesus may take to the cross leads to true suffering and despair of any rescue even by God, at least in this life. So, what will come of the love that the boy holds for God once he comes to understand this? Can anyone’s love of God stand such a test?

  The next morning they set sail with a fair wind. The river widened into an estuary with several channels among its islands. Kendrick easily guided the ship through. After passing the last island they sailed down a bay some two or three miles across, an arm of the ocean reaching inland. They reached the mouth at midday.

  As they turned to the northwest Joseph sensed something forbidding on the distant horizon. On the Mediterranean, he often looked out on the sea without seeing land beyond. But the land was always out there, in any direction except beyond the Pillars of Hercules. There was always the danger of storms, but at least the Mediterranean was well charted. It was a civilized sea, too, swept clear of pirates by the Romans.

  Here, the ocean to the west was the great unknown. The wind was still fair, but it blew colder off the sea. The ocean swells were big for the wind, and even the stoutly built ship seemed frail now against the forces such an ocean might throw against it.

  The passage appeared safe for the moment. Several harbors offered safety as long as they avoided the rocks of the ragged coastline. Islands along the coast could provide at least some measure of protection if wind and sea should threaten. But any protection from the land would end in a matter of days when they sailed past the headland that lay 150 miles ahead. Beyond that, there stretched one hundred miles of open sea between the tip of Armorica—as the natives called this far northwest corner of Gaul—and Britain.

  Kendrick

  The wind died down as evening approached. Kendrick gave the helm and the watch to one of his crew, and he paced the deck. Joseph’s two boys were running all around the ship with their games, but he didn’t care. For the moment, he just leaned over the rail and gazed out with a forlorn look at a wide protected bay that stretched another ten miles further into the distance. He cursed the fickleness of the wind. “Of all the places, why does the wind stop and leave me here?” he muttered. The next thing he knew Jesus was standing next to him.

  “Why does this place make you sad?” asked Jesus.

  Kendrick sighed. “This is the place where Caesar vanquished my people, when my grandfather was a young man.”

  “What happened?”

  “For centuries the Veneti tribe controlled the Atlantic trade routes to Britain. Then Caesar came. Initially we submitted to Caesar, but soon we rebelled and slew his ambassadors. Caesar retaliated, destroying the Veneti fleet, killing all the men, and selling the women and children into slavery.”

  Jesus looked across the water. “So this is where Caesar destroyed the fleet of your people?”

  Kendrick nodded.

  “If Caesar sold all the Veneti into slavery, how is it you are free? Did you purchase your freedom?”

  “No, my family escaped Caesar’s wrath. My grandfather obtained shelter with relatives among the Namnetes tribe at Nantes. All around Armorica, survivors came out of hiding once Caesar left to wage his civil war with Pompey. Regional trade developed between Armorica and the Dumnonii area of Britain. The Romans left us alone—we were too insignificant for them. But the Atlantic trade route to the west of Britain is a shadow of what it once was. And every time I pass this wretched place, I think of my people’s bondage.”

  The boy kept his silence for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “God will not allow your people to suffer forever.”

  How could a child think of offering platitudes to comfort a stranger? “What do you know of suffering?” Kendrick asked. “When have your people known the yoke of slavery?”

  Jesus responded with a story of how his God led the people of Israel out of bondage in Egypt to the Promised Land, and how they remembered the bitterness of that bondage every year at Passover. He talked about the laws God gave the people of Israel through Moses and how they wandered in the desert for forty years until they finally arrived in Canaan.

  As the boy told his story, the sun lowered to the horizon, and the wind picked up. Kendrick was so entranced by the tale that he scarcely paid attention as the cursed bay slipped astern, out of view.

  Soon night had fallen, and Jesus took his leave to go to sleep. Kendrick found his mood much improved. He dismissed the helmsman and took the next watch of the night himself to be alone with his thoughts. He hadn’t known much of Jews before; their concept of just one God seemed so strange. But Jesus’s sincerity and empathy impressed him. Late in the night the helmsman returned to take back the watch, and Kendrick retired to a restful sleep.

  The next day a fresh westerly wind arose from the ocean. Under reefed sails, the ship tore ahead through building swells on its northwesterly course parallel to shore. The motion of the swaying ship made the passengers sick, even though none of them had eaten since the day before.

  Kendrick watched the sea with a wary eye. As expected, the skies clouded over, confirming his suspicions. Something was brewing out in the ocean and coming closer. Late in the afternoon, he gave the command to gybe the sails and turn the ship into the entrance of a harbor. They headed for Brest, the final haven before the last headland of Armorica. After that, they would have been surrounded by open stormy sea.

  Brest was a lonely outpost. Four fishing vessels sat at anchor. There was no sign of a harbor master as there had been in Nantes and hardly any sign of Roman authority. The small market also was closed. The only inn in the hamlet overlooked the well-protected harbor from the foot of the second of two small hills on the northern shore, separated by a small stream. The one road, actually more of a pathway through Armorica, came to an abrupt end at the very doorstep of the inn.

  Everyone on board helped to secure the ship alongside the small quay, as storm clouds gathered in the west. The party made it to the inn just as the storm broke. It was a small establishment operated by a peasant farmer and his wife, with two rooms to rent off the
main room of their home. Kendrick knew the landlord, so the rooms did not come too dearly—fortunately for Joseph. The wife prepared some fish chowder with warm bread that soon restored their spirits and sated their ravenous hunger.

  With thunder and lightning crashing outside, they huddled together in the two rooms. There was barely enough space in the beds for all, but no one complained. Even those who slept on the earthen floor were happy to be sheltered from the raging storm.

  There was no let-up the next day. There was nothing to do but eat more chowder and stay warm around the fire. Kendrick was surprised when Joseph and the two boys passed on another serving of dinner offered by the landlady late in the afternoon. He was even more surprised when he saw them gather up their cloaks. “Where are you going? The storm still rages,” he said to Joseph.

  “Our Sabbath begins at Sundown, and we must keep it holy,” answered Joseph. “If we do not board the ship now, we will not be able to embark until the Sabbath ends, even if the weather clears tomorrow. We will spend the night on board the ship, and you and the crew can sail with us already on board as soon as the weather clears.”

  “But why not wait to see if the weather clears in the morning, and then go aboard if it does?” Kendrick asked.

  “Our people devote the Sabbath day to study and prayers,” Joseph replied. “In our own land we do not leave our home on the Sabbath except to go to our temples. If we again make our home here tonight, we must stay until the Sabbath ends. So, tonight we make your ship our home, so you will be free to sail.”

  Joseph

  As the sun went down, Joseph, Jesus, and Daniel prayed on board the ship. The cabin was not watertight in the drenching wind and rain. They did not try to light a lamp, and they were not about to risk damaging the precious scrolls in the wetness, so they recited psalms from memory and devoted themselves to personal prayers.

  In the morning, Joseph awoke cold, damp, and stiff, to the motion of the ship moving down the channel back to the harbor entrance. Kendrick poked his head into the cabin to offer them some hot porridge. As the three of them came up on deck to eat and dry themselves in the warm sun, Jesus remained silent and thoughtful. He kept looking at the sky and the waves, and then he closed his eyes. Meditating, perhaps.