Behold the Man Read online

  In sight, in the courtyard, Marcus drove away the grooms and sentries who came forward to assist and prepared to mount Pavor.

  “Marcus,” Claudia whispered.

  When someone touched her shoulder from behind, she whirled, backing up until only the iron railing prevented her fall to the paving stones below.

  “What I did was for your own good.” Pilate placed one of his hands on her shoulder.

  Claudia flinched at his touch, her whole body growing rigid.

  “You are mine,” Pilate asserted. “Just like my horse is mine. Like my sword is mine. Like Jerusalem and the Galil are mine.”

  “I never loved you,” Claudia said, her reply devoid of emotion. If her words had been inscribed on parchment, they could not have been more detached and impassive.

  “Do you think that matters?” Pilate crushed her to him and kissed her with such force that her lips bruised.

  Claudia slapped him.

  Pilate slapped her back, hard. He grabbed her wrists, laughed at her cries, and dragged her into the room.

  Chapter 40

  Another year had passed in the Roman province of Judea. Another year from Passover to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur . . . from Tabernacles to Passover again. A time of turmoil and fear, hope and hesitancy.

  Awakened from a sound sleep, Claudia heard Philo’s feet pattering on the palace floor and the sound of his voice calling, “Mama! Mama!”

  It was the urgency of excitement, not of fear.

  Dashing into her room, he flung himself up onto the bed. “Mama!” he said again.

  “Good morning. And what—”

  “Today is the day! I heard the servants talking. Jesus is coming today. He may be here anytime. To Jerusalem, I mean. Today,” he announced without taking a breath.

  Warm sunlight crept over the window ledge, suffusing the chamber with a golden glow.

  “We have to go meet him—we have to! Everyone’s going. Is he coming as the king, Mama? Is today that day?”

  Placing her finger against Philo’s lips, Claudia shushed him. When she added a nod, her raised brows also expressed, This is our secret for now.

  Dressed in the homespun garb of servants, Claudia and Philo slipped out through the gates of the governor’s palace and merged into the teeming Passover crowds.

  Philo held her hand and looked up. “I hope we will see him today, Mother. I hope we can speak to him. Thank him again.”

  “He will be surrounded by people, Philo. But maybe we can hear him if he teaches in the Temple courts.”

  They met Josephus near the Jerusalem gate that opened eastward. Lifting her eyes, Claudia traced the sweep of the road as it ascended the Mount of Olives and disappeared in the direction of the village of Bethany.

  Today not one bit of the actual dusty, stony track could be seen. Instead the way was carpeted with thousands of pilgrims. On both sides of the route, the verdant hills of spring blossomed with all the colors of dyed wool and many shades of humanity as well.

  “Almost Passover,” Josephus explained. “Jews from every part of the world where our people have been scattered have returned to the Holy City. From Alexandria, they come. From Ethiopia. From Babylon. From Cyprus and Crete and Cyrene. From Rome and Gaul. Even from the Pillars of Hercules. All have come to worship the Almighty at the place on which he says his eye ever rests.”

  A ripple of elation ran through the crowds. This was more than the excitement of being in Jerusalem for the holiday. It was an enthusiasm born of anticipation.

  There was a surge of movement at the top of the mount. A new upwelling of arriving travelers, like the seventh wave on a shore, broke over the crest and foamed downward toward the city.

  “He’s coming,” was on every lip, pronounced by every mouth, ringing in every ear. “The Nazarene!”

  And then there he was . . . Jesus, riding a donkey, making his way down the slope.

  Chaos ensued. As if a dam had suddenly broken, a corresponding swell of onlookers swarmed out of the gates and down toward Jesus. Everyone in the whole world, it seemed, wanted to see Jesus.

  For an instant, when the crowd opened, Claudia thought she saw Jono among the common folk. Then the mass of humanity closed again, and their friend and protector was gone.

  “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” someone shouted.

  “From the house of the Lord, we bless you.” The throng around Claudia roared the antiphon to the psalm.

  “Has there ever been such a day?” Claudia marveled aloud.

  Lifting his hands skyward, Josephus fervently intoned, “Praise the God of Israel, who has let me live to see this day!”

  It was like watching the most elaborate magician’s trick ever. One moment the road was lined with nodding palm trees. The next instant their branches had been stripped and were placed in the clamoring hands of the audience.

  Philo raised his hands and shouted, “Me! Me! I need a branch.” As if signaling a ship a great way out to sea, the boy waved the frond with enormous energy, jumping up and down as he did so.

  “Hosanna to the Son of David!” everyone shouted, stripping off their cloaks and lining the road with them.

  And Jesus was there, a half smile below brows furrowed with compassion.

  Then, almost right behind her, Claudia spotted Marcus. It had been nearly a year since Philo’s healing. She hadn’t seen Marcus since the day Pilate had ordered her back to Jerusalem and then confronted Marcus with his terse order, “Keep your eye on this Jewish fanatic and your mind off my wife.”

  Marcus had stayed away. She hadn’t sought him. But now, suddenly, she saw him, dressed as a commoner—no uniform, no sword, his beard full and bushy. But he was not smiling, nor was he shouting joyfully. His expression was troubled, serious. Following the direction of his gaze, Claudia scanned the city walls above the gate.

  There, red-faced and scowling, was High Priest Caiaphas, surrounded by his henchmen. He was talking incessantly and gesticulating wildly. He was not praying or thanking God for this day.

  “Marcus! Marcus!” Claudia called.

  By yet another miracle, he turned toward her. They saw each other for just a moment, reached out as if they would touch . . . and then the flow of the mob swept them apart. Claudia tightly grasped Philo’s collar, and Josephus clung to them both, but there was no moving against the current to contact Marcus.

  When the trio had reached the relative calm and safety of a side street, there was no sign of Marcus and no way to know where he had gone.

  “I think he is concerned with Jesus’ safety,” Josephus said. “He acts like he is guarding Rabbi Jesus, as well he might.”

  As they walked back toward the palace, the scholar rehearsed over and over again all the signs of the Messiah that had their fulfillment in Jesus of Nazareth. “Including this day,” he instructed. “Listen to what the prophet Zechariah wrote. ‘Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your King is coming to you; He is just and having salvation, lowly and riding on a donkey.’ ”16

  “Daughter of Zion! That’s you, Mama,” Philo said.

  At the servants’ entry to the palace, Josephus parted from them. “I also saw what the centurion saw,” he murmured.

  Claudia blinked. “Oh, my friend,” was all she could say with Philo nearby.

  “It is Passover,” the scholar returned. “Perhaps, for goodwill, Pilate may permit the daughter of a Jewish woman to celebrate seder in the home of her rabbi.”

  “Perhaps,” she said aloud. But she knew it was highly doubtful her husband w
ould agree.

  She peered toward the tables of the moneychangers. They were thronged with poor pilgrims who waited in line to change common currency for Temple money . . . for a high fee.

  The bawling of sacrificial animals blended into the voices of the people.

  Claudia squinted upward. High Priest Caiaphas and the head of the Temple guard observed the transactions from the stone railing of a balcony. They pointed at Jesus moving through the pilgrims.

  Philo tugged Claudia’s hand, and they moved closer to Jesus.

  A poor family stood at the head of the line at a money-changing table.

  The pilgrim said, “A thirty percent commission to change my money into Temple currency? How will I pay my Temple tax and feed my children?”

  The moneychanger replied, “Give me your coin.” He snatched the money from the poor man as Jesus looked on. “See this?” the collector sneered. “The face of Caesar is on your coin. Idolatry. A Roman coin, see? Not allowed in the Temple. Only holy money allowed. That’s the way it works.”

  The poor man glanced helplessly at his wife, then back at the collector. “But a thirty percent commission . . . Last year it was only twenty percent.”

  The moneychanger replied, “Last year John the Baptizer was alive. This year there is none left to criticize.”

  Jesus sat on the base of a stone pillar and began braiding a whip.

  Claudia said, “This way.” They worked their way closer to the high priest to hear his words.

  Caiaphas chuckled derisively. “It is a good day. The Baptizer’s followers have already forgotten him. And Jesus is all about peace.”

  The Temple guard laughed. “Sheep.”

  Caiaphas continued, “John is gone like a whirlwind in the desert.”

  The face of Jesus clouded with anger. He shook out the whip, testing it.

  The Temple guard inclined his head toward Jesus. “He calls himself the good shepherd. What’s he doing now?”

  Caiaphas growled, “Leading his sheep to slaughter. He disregards our Sabbath laws. Calls himself the Son of God. A blasphemer. Liar. Lunatic.”

  “Yet look how all the people flock to him.”

  Caiaphas replied, “We have witnessed enough violations of Torah to indict Jesus and stone him in the street if he becomes troublesome.”

  The anger of Jesus built.

  Caiaphas chuckled again. “Let the shepherd preach to the sheep. Blessed are the poor. We will make certain Israel’s poor do not lose the blessing of poverty.”

  Suddenly, the voice of Jesus roared above the clamor. “Get out! You have made my Father’s house a den of thieves!”

  Total pandemonium erupted in the Temple marketplace as Jesus overturned the tables, whipped the moneychangers, and threw open the gates of the sheep pens. He waded in among the animals and drove them out.

  Loose animals stampeded through the marketplace. Caiaphas and the Temple guard quickly retreated indoors.

  The chaos continued as pilgrims scrambled after spilled coins and the followers of Jesus grabbed his arms and hurried him away.17

  Suddenly at Claudia’s elbow stood Josephus the Elder. His expression was greatly troubled. “Let us go to my home, my dear. It is not safe for you and the boy here, and the palace is too far. The spirit of violence is in the air.”

  Claudia nodded, scooped Philo up, and fought with Josephus against the crowds to reach his modest home.

  It was hours after Jesus overturned the tables of the moneychangers, and there was still unrest in the streets. Claudia sat close to the fire in the scholar’s home as he studied a scroll. Philo, exhausted, had fallen asleep.

  Claudia was miserably afraid. The sound of a pot smashing outside and the harsh words that followed made her suddenly tense to the point of trembling. This time, there was no Marcus to defend her. She listened, fearful of what would follow, until the noises of drunken laughter moved away.

  Jesus, the gentle healer, now faced the highest degree of opposition yet. By denouncing Temple corruption in such a public manner, he unified all the religious authorities against him. Preaching way up in Galilee was one thing, but turning over tables and whipping merchants here in the heart of Jerusalem? The wicked, cheating moneychangers probably felt the sting of public laughter and humiliation even more than the leather cords of Jesus’ lash . . . and they would never forgive him.

  What would they do to him if they caught him?

  Josephus tapped the third line down from the top of a scroll. “Here it is written . . . written of the Messiah in the psalm of David, ‘Those who would destroy me are powerful, being wrongfully my enemies . . . for zeal for Your house has consumed me.’18 This is a true picture, eh?”

  “No doubt the high priest wants Jesus to be consumed,” Claudia replied. “By death. Stones or fire from heaven. Doesn’t matter how.”

  The old man replied, “He has touched the raw nerve in the broken tooth of religion—he has disrupted their business. Condemned their crooked economy. Money is, after all, the one true god of man’s idolatry.”

  Claudia blurted out the deep anxiety that gripped her heart. “If they find him, they will kill him.”

  “Yes, I fear they will.” Josephus’s expression was greatly troubled. “Corrupt leaders fear truth.”

  Wringing her hands together Claudia said, “They would have Truth dead and buried!”

  “Truth,” Josephus corrected, “may be buried . . . but it will never die.”

  Chapter 41

  Caiaphas paced up and down in front of Pilate’s desk. He clasped his hands behind his back, then across his front, then behind him again. Pilate stared at him sourly, angry that his evening was spoiled with this temper tantrum. Why couldn’t the local authorities do what they were supposed to do? Pilate was frustrated that an issue involving a nobody like the Nazarene had to come before him at all.

  “Arrest him!” Caiaphas demanded for the tenth time.

  “Religion is your jurisdiction,” Pilate responded in exact measure.

  Caiaphas waved an admonishing finger, much to Pilate’s displeasure, and his voice screeched. “This . . . matter . . . has nothing to do . . . with religion!”

  Blandly, Pilate observed, “Then the issue is commerce.”

  “The Temple revenues collected for Rome,” Caiaphas said with assurance he had the supreme argument.

  “He disrupted your business dealings in the Temple. The bribes you pay Caesar to keep your power . . . are more important than your religion?”

  “He is a threat to the Empire of Rome!”

  Deliberately needling now, because he enjoyed tormenting this pompous, arrogant windbag, Pilate added, “Jesus claims he is the son of God.”

  “Blasphemy!” Caiaphas looked as if he might have apoplexy.

  “Caesar also calls himself the son of a god. Perhaps Caesar and Jesus are brothers?”

  Clenching his jaw and regaining a measure of self-control, the high priest stated, “You mock me, but you will see. The people love him. They will follow him.”

  “Will the people die for him?” Pilate inquired.

  Ignoring the questions, Caiaphas stuck out his lower lip. “Better he should die for them!”

  “You fear they will make Jesus high priest in your place,” Pilate asserted, twisting the knife a bit further.

  “You—” Caiaphas returned with deliberate coldness. “You should fear they will make him king in Caesar’s place. Whose jurisdiction will it be then?”

  The close followers of Jesus spread their bedrolls out around the campfire. In the sha
dows just beyond the flickering firelight, Jono stood guard over the little band. Across the valley the torches gleamed on the Temple walls.

  “That is some sight,” Andrew said quietly as he sat between his brother, who now went by the name of Peter, and Jesus. “Lord, what did you mean today, when we were leaving the Temple and you said all the buildings would be destroyed?”

  Peter jumped in. “And not only destroyed, but completely demolished. Not one stone left on another. When will all this happen, Lord, and what will be the sign of your return and the end of the world?”19

  Jesus gestured toward the thousands of pilgrim fires, glistening like stars across the valley. He said to them, “Take heed that no one deceives you. For many will come in My name, saying, ‘I am the Christ,’ and will deceive many. And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not troubled; for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.

  “Then they will deliver you up to tribulation and kill you, and you will be hated by all nations for My name’s sake. And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in all the world as a witness to all the nations, and then the end will come.

  “When you see the ‘abomination of desolation,’ spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing in the holy place, then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains. For then there will be great tribulation, such as has not been since the beginning of the world until this time, no, nor ever shall be. And unless those days were shortened, no flesh would be saved; but for the elect’s sake those days will be shortened.

  “Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then the sign of the Son of Man will appear in heaven, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And He will send His angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and they will gather together His elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.