The Making of the Lamb Read online

  “Look,” the captain barely heard Joseph shout.

  “God help him,” Nehemiah muttered when he took a chance to see. Jesus had lost his footing and was holding on with his hands to a single line as the yardarm pulled him through the air over the water. Daniel managed to pull the younger boy up to reach the footrope with his feet. The men finally stepped around the boys and moved to the outside. All too slowly, they were able to reef the last section that they had dropped while the boys were struggling just to hold on.

  With the sail reefed, Nehemiah turned his attention to the battle for sea room from the dangerous shore. He turned the boat up into the wind as much as he dared. Even with the sail fully reefed, there was too much force on the rig to bring the ship fully broadside to it. Beyond that, the ship would slip downwind even more when heeled over on its side. The more the ship turned up into the wind, the more Nehemiah was blinded and choked by windblown seawater. He steered mostly by the sound of the creaking planks; as they sounded louder he knew he had to ease the strain on the ship and its rig by bearing away downwind. The two hands relieved the exhausted helmsman on the steering oar, but even though Nehemiah was equally exhausted, he remained there to guide them as they fought for every yard of sea room. Inevitably, the raging wind and sea carried them along to the north; turning the boat into the wind as much as they could only slowed their approaching doom.

  Hour by hour the devilish wind continued to blow. Drenched and tired to the core, the crew fought on. Late in the afternoon, the ragged coast appeared through the crashing waves and mist—but then Nehemiah saw something that gave him hope. A rocky promontory jutted out from the shore and curved around to their right. They had just enough sea room that they might make it around the point. If they succeeded, the point of land would shelter them from the raging sea and wind, but there was no more time or distance to lose.

  “Gybe-Ho—Now!” Nehemiah shouted and grabbed the steering oar to steer the stern through the wind and put the ship on a course to take them around the point if they were lucky, or else onto the rocks even faster.

  In the raging tumult, one of the hands did not hear the captain and did not understand what was happening fast enough. The stay needed to support the mast on the new tack was not made fast. As the boat’s stern came through the wind a thundering crack rang out, followed by the crash of the sail and its spar. Now at the mercy of the wind pushing it from behind with a useless steering oar, the stricken vessel tore its way toward the threatening shore.

  All aboard—captain, crew, and passengers—stood transfixed as they helplessly awaited their doom—all aboard save one. The voice of a boy came through the storm. Jesus made no effort to shout over the roar of the wind, but his voice rang out clear as a bell. With a look of peace and confidence on his face, he was singing a psalm. In the old melody of King David, he chanted an ancient tune most on deck recognized: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want…”

  A ray of sunshine broke through the clouds and cast its light upon the kneeling figure of Jesus. The clouds parted further, and light enveloped the vessel. Rapidly, the waters calmed.

  Cries rang out from all on board. “The Lord be praised!”

  Jesus continued to pray, this time in thanksgiving.

  Nehemiah turned to Joseph. “Your nephew will be a great prophet.”

  Daniel, standing close enough to overhear, said, “No, he is already more than any prophet.” He turned to his father. “There is a divine power and light within him. That is what I saw with my own eyes in Nazareth.”

  Joseph shuffled back a step. He looked at his son wide-eyed and guffawed. “Do not presume to compare anyone to Moses, Isaiah, and the other great prophets!” Joseph paused. Little by little, he recovered his composure. “Let us just be grateful that Jesus is a good devout boy and that God heard his prayers.”

  The crew managed to erect a piece of the mast and jury-rig a patch of sail to it. Soon they beached the vessel on a small patch of sand. Sage bushes dominated the landscape, and there was nothing suitable from which to fashion a new mast. Nehemiah knew that impressive stands of cedar grew on the eastern end of the island, but that wood was too soft. Nehemiah and Joseph located a blacksmith in a nearby village. Joseph paid him handsomely, and within two days, two iron collars bound the broken mast back into place.

  With fresh prayers of thanksgiving, the crew launched the ship back into the sea.

  The rest of the voyage passed quickly in fair winds. Within a fortnight, the vessel passed south of the boot of Italia. A few days later, they sighted the shore of trans-Alpine Gaul and then the mouth of the River Rhodanus.

  Jesus

  With the sails securely stowed away, the donkeys on the towpath pulled Nehemiah’s vessel along the Fossa Mariana canal that ran several miles from the sea up to their destination in the port town of Arelate. One of the hands led the donkeys while the helmsman steered. Nehemiah sat with the boys on deck. For once, he did not seem to have anything to do.

  “This land seems so wet,” said Jesus. “I vaguely remember Egypt being like this when the Nile flooded, except it was much hotter.”

  “It gets even cooler as we go further north,” said Daniel. “Even in summer the sun doesn’t beat down all the time like it does at home. You will see the land get more fertile up ahead. It’s like the Jezreel Valley across all the flat lands and hills in Gaul and Britain. No deserts anywhere.”

  “We will be passing some farms, when the land gets a bit more dry and firm,” said Nehemiah. “This swamp is known as the Camarque. Some of the farms graze cows and horses on this soggy part, but that’s about it.”

  The boys started pointing out the eagles, hawks, and harriers flying through the air. Here and there, they spotted muskrats swimming in the water or making their way across drier patches of earth. “I have never seen such creatures,” Jesus remarked.

  Farther along, the swampland turned drier, and farms with lush crops began dotting the landscape. Then the farm plots merged, separated by fences. The yellowish-gray color of the fences seemed unnatural against the fields. Jesus did not say anything about them at first. It must be a strange color of paint the Romans use in this climate. I never saw the Romans use anything like it back home.

  Off in the distance the boys spotted livestock grazing, and they picked out turtles and more creatures swimming and crawling close by. They approached a section of fence close to the waterway. “Whoa!” Jesus suddenly exclaimed. “Did you see that, Daniel? These fences are made of bones.” Jesus spotted a skull in the mud. “They are human bones!”

  “Those would be the Cymbri,” said Nehemiah. “They were Gauls slaughtered by the thousands when the Romans came to this province more than a hundred years ago. It was the handiwork of a general named Marius. He’s the same general who built this canal to bring supplies to his troops up in Arelate.”

  “Why make fences out of bones?” Jesus asked.

  “They had one hundred ninety thousand dead Gauls on their hands,” Nehemiah answered. “That’s just the soldiers killed in two battles. The rest, even the women and children, killed themselves rather than be taken as slaves. There were too many to bury, so the farmers used the bones to make fences.”

  “It’s like something out of Ezekiel,” said Jesus.

  “Are you going to prophesy to these bones?” Daniel asked. “I don’t know how dry these bones are; they probably stayed a little damp this close to the swamp, actually.”

  “Don’t be funny, Daniel. I don’t think these bones are from the Lost Tribes. It just seems so brutal the way the Romans killed so many people and then used the bodies. The lives of the slaughtered do not seem to matter to them. I think it’s important to know that while our people suffer under Roman oppression, we are not alone.”

  “That’s all very interesting, Jesus.” Joseph strode purposefully across the deck to join them. “However, I will thank you to keep such thoughts to yourself while we make our way across Gaul. We are crossing Roman lands ahead, and
such words can put us in grave danger. We are only an hour or so away from Arelate, and I will have some business with the legate. He is a good and decent man, but never forget that he is first and foremost a Roman and proud of his country. I cannot afford to offend him.”

  Joseph

  Joseph led Daniel and Jesus up the brick pathway that led to the home of his friend Septurius, the legate of Rome. A fine dommus, the home had iron bars on the windows. Joseph greeted the porter who guarded the vestibule, protecting against thieves, beggars, and any other urban horribles who might threaten or offend the tranquility of the interior.

  They were shown to the atrium. There, marble and bronze statues surrounded the impluvium at the atrium’s center. Out of the baking sun, the air felt cooler and fresher, almost as if a patch of pleasant countryside had been transported to town. As the Romans put it, rus in urbe.

  Daniel showed Jesus around among the statues, also pointing out the ducks, swans, fish, and all manner of aquatic plants depicted in the mosaic floor.

  Jesus looked up at the rectangular patch of open sky. “Uncle, why is part of the roof missing?”

  “To allow rainwater to fill the pool,” Daniel answered before Joseph had a chance. “That’s why they call the pool an impluvium.”

  “It’s quite impressive with rainwater falling in,” said Joseph. “It’s something to see at night in the light of the oil lamps.”

  “I bet it splashes on the floor a lot,” said Jesus. “I guess the Romans need to keep their minions busy with the mopping.”

  Joseph raised an eyebrow in warning. “Remember what I said aboard the ship?”

  “I’m sorry, Uncle. I will just stand behind you and Daniel. I will be quiet as a mouse when we meet your friend.”

  Septurius strode into the atrium and embraced Joseph. Merchants of lower social rank were required to wait and then, when summoned, approach the legate as he sat behind a table on a raised platform in his office. But as a noblis decurio, Joseph was entitled to the courtesy of having the legate come from his office and greet him in the atrium. Besides, the two were longtime friends.

  “Greetings, my friend,” Septurius said in Greek.

  Only a thin purple border on his white toga signified Septurius’s office. The simplicity of his garb was a marked contrast to that of Joseph. Romans were not put off by distant travelers appearing in native dress, so Joseph had on his best cloak, a subdued shade of red with gold fringes at the hem and at the ends of the wide sleeves. It was loosely draped over his shoulders and open in front, revealing the long white tunic bound with a gold-colored sash around his waist. His skullcap was light green, with its turned-up edge revealing a gold-colored lining.

  “Daniel, how you’ve grown over the winter,” said Septurius. “What has it been, eight months?” He turned back to Joseph. “So, my friend, how long will you be in Arelate?”

  “Just a few days at most, to hire a wagon team and possibly trade some of my olive oil for other goods,” Joseph replied. “I need to see what wares the local craftsmen have.” Joseph took the legate’s cue as the two continued in Greek. Clever of him to forgo Latin for this occasion. That showed a bit of culture while also keeping the conversation private within the earshot of household slaves.

  “Ah, you’re in need of trinkets. You must be off to trade with the Britons again.”

  “Yes, but it is becoming a sorry business to deal with the Cantiaci tribe around Dvrobrivae. They know how much Romans dislike sailing across open seas, and they occupy the only place on the other side of the Oceanus Britannicus that you can reach while staying within sight of land. So, they take advantage by exacting heavy tolls. On my last expedition, I went out to a place called Yengi. Have you heard of it?”

  “Isn’t that the old Celtic trading port on the southern coast of Britain? They still export slaves from there, don’t they?”

  “Yes. Some merchants also go there to pick up iron ore. They find it lying around the beach.”

  “There’s not much money to be made in iron,” Septurius said. “And you don’t have armed retainers to control slaves. Jupiter knows you would need them. I tried purchasing a Briton earlier this year, and the cheeky bastard struck another slave. I had to sell him off to the workhouse at a great loss. If he had done that to a freeman, I would have been forced to have him crucified. I’d have lost my entire investment.”

  “I go in search of more profitable metals,” Joseph said. “A little tin will strengthen ten times as much copper into a strong bronze alloy. When I was in Yengi last time, I came across a chieftain who had several large tin ingots that he didn’t know what to do with. I bought them for a song. I paid heavy tolls to the Cantiaci and several other tribes just to bring the ingots through their provinces back to our ship. It cost me more for the tolls than for what I paid for the ingots in the first place. Nevertheless I made a nice profit selling them in Judea.”

  “Yes, I have heard that it’s a sorry business dealing with those British kingdoms.”

  “But looking around this room, I am reminded of how the good people of Rome love bronze. You have a lot of bronze items right here, and you cannot make bronze without tin. Even with the tolls, there’s money to be made from tin if I can locate a reliable supply, and even more profit if I can figure out how to avoid the tolls.”

  “I see where you are going with this, and you may be onto something. There are many places to get iron and copper, but few places to get tin.” Septurius paused. “You know, I might be interested in making an investment if you need capital for this venture.”

  “I am not far along enough to take your money for that—I must first secure the supply. This is an exploratory voyage, but there will be ample opportunity for investment if it works out. In the meantime, I was wondering if you might be interested in exporting a partial shipload under our usual consignment terms.”

  Septurius glanced about the room. “Let’s discuss that tomorrow.”

  “Very well, we’ll talk business tomorrow. But now, before the day wanes, I must be off to find rooms at one of your local inns.”

  “Nonsense,” said Septurius, “I will not hear of it. There is plenty of room in my home for an old friend, and as legate of this city I command it.” He laughed and turned to Daniel. “You seem to be old enough for your own room now.” A slightly stocky, pimply faced boy of about fourteen approached as Septurius continued addressing Daniel. “You remember my younger son, Longinus?” Septurius looked at Jesus and then turned back to Joseph. “I will have the slaves make room for your servant boy, too.”

  Joseph turned to Jesus and saw the reason for Septurius’s mistake. Between the rush to get him out of Galilee and the quick stopover at Salamis, there had not been any time to obtain decent clothes for the boy. He was still dressed like a peasant, in the same worn homespun cloth in which he left Nazareth, except that the voyage had taken its toll in the form of several large tears in the fabric. Daniel was turning red, but Jesus smiled. Joseph quickly explained their relation, though not the reason for the boy’s abrupt departure from home.

  Septurius beckoned Jesus forward. “Terribly sorry, I had no idea…”

  “Sir, there is no need to apologize,” Jesus said. “You were quite correct; I am indeed a servant, of my God and my people.”

  Septurius let out a hearty laugh and slapped Jesus on the shoulder. “Well said, lad!” He turned to Joseph. “With a wit like that and such a sense of public duty, I bet your nephew will be a consul in Rome someday.”

  “I see that the town prospers,” Jesus said. “I saw on the walk here from the ship that you have started building an amphitheater and a chariot circus. You must rule here with wisdom, and the emperor will surely recognize that soon.”

  “Oh, he’s good!” Septurius remarked to Joseph with a grin. Then he responded to Jesus. “Actually, the citizens here have Julius Caesar to thank much more than me. He’s the one who stripped Massilia of its possessions and gave them to Arelate after Massilia took the wrong side i
n Julius’s war against Pompey. As for me, Arelate is likely to be my final posting—but a long one, unless I do something either phenomenally stupid or great to get the attention of my superiors. Nonetheless, life is good here, and I have no complaints. As legate of Rome, I maintain the peace and see to it that the taxes are collected. Arelate is an important port, but it is not even a regional center of the province. My jurisdiction ends at the town walls. A posting such as this is not given to men of strong ambition.”

  Joseph smiled. Perhaps I was too hard on Jesus earlier, on the ship.

  Daniel

  There was something unsettling about the way Longinus kept glancing over to Daniel and Jesus as Joseph and Septurius wrapped up their conversation. Daniel detected a hint of a smirk that the boy managed to conceal from his father.

  Septurius broke out in Latin as he turned to his son. “Be a good host now, and show these young men to their room. You will look after them for the next few days while they are our guests.”

  “But, Father, what of my lessons?”

  “You can put those aside for a few days. As far behind as you are, I doubt it will make much difference.”

  Now it was Daniel’s turn to conceal his smile from his own father. Seeing Joseph beginning to raise his eyebrow, he feigned a cough and brought up his hand to conceal the lower part of his face.

  “Good. That’s settled then. “Now that you have this unexpected holiday, I am sure that you and Joseph’s boys will become great friends.” Septurius turned to Joseph. “Come; allow me to show you to your room.”

  “Follow me.” Longinus led them toward the rear of the house. The walls here were adorned with fresco paintings. A peristyle colonnade leading to the bedrooms surrounded an interior garden under an open roof.

  Daniel now had to share the room he would have had for himself, but he did not mind. It was large and magnificently appointed. Longinus left to give them a chance to freshen up for dinner, and a slave stayed behind to attend to them. Daniel had made a fool of himself by teasing the household slaves the first time he had visited Septurius’s household, but Jesus did not appear even to be tempted.