Titus of Galilee

If it had been up to him, Titus would not have killed those two men. He simply would have taken their loot and maybe bound them. What good was there in taking the lives of innocent travelers?
Dusk was quickly turning into night. His father, Dimas, and his two outlaw friends sat round the campfire in front of their countryside hut, boasting of their exploits.
“Gestas,” said Dimas, “You were in top form today. You anticipated well the Samarian’s move to attack us.”
Gestas grinned. He was a stocky man, a bit like the Roman soldiers Titus had seen marching from Jerusalem. Gestas reclined against a large stone behind him. “Some days I feel light as a feather and quick as a fox. We are fortunate. Today is one of those days.”
“You, too,” said the third man, nodding at Dimas. He was taller than Dimas and Gestas and had a long face with a full beard. Titus had seen him before but only in the city.
On the day before the Sabbath, Titus would accompany his mother to the outdoor market at the north end of the Lower City. There, she would barter for food supplies whatever items his father had stolen and brought home. Titus occasionally would see Gestas or the bearded man there stalking young women or stealing from a food vendor. They called the third man Barabbas.
Dimas smiled as he stoked the fire. Barabbas followed the glowing embers with his eyes as they floated high above.
“Yes, I suppose I did my part,” said Dimas. “I wouldn’t have hurt the man, but he left me no choice. You saw him raise the knife above his head.”
It was a declaration that sought no concurrence or approval yet both Gestas and Barabbas nodded. Titus saw his father take a long draw from a wineskin before passing it to Gestas. A drop of wine trickled down the corner of his mouth. This was their practice. They would plunder and pillage then retreat to a safe haven, usually far away from the scene of their transgressions. This evening they had chosen Titus’ home to split their loot. Dimas glanced at Titus peeking at him from the door to their home of stone and clay and gave him a wink.
“A few pieces of gold and some silver, not bad for a day’s work,” said Gestas. He took some coins from a small, leather pouch, then flipped it to Barabbas. Titus couldn’t tell whether Gestas took the gold or the silver. The bearded man took his share of the loot and handed the small bag to Dimas.
Dimas looked inside the pouch, then up at Titus. “Come here, Son.”
Titus was startled. He had been content to observe and listen from a distance. He didn’t want anything to do with what his mother called “these unsavory types.” He shuffled close to his father and accepted the bag. He could smell the strong body odor of the three men. His mother said they were drunks and thieves who left pain and misery everywhere they traveled.
Titus was no stranger to misery and hardship. He was a ten-year old child when the Roman legionnaires crushed Sepphoris, the capital of Galilee and his former home. He recalled the Roman soldiers displaying no mercy for the condemned. They erected hundreds of crosses in the streets. The stripped, crucified bodies had died a slow and agonizing death in the hot sun.
Back then, Titus was stunned, but somehow not surprised, when they came for his father, whose reputation as a thief was well-known among the Romans. He watched horror-stricken as a legionnaire burst through their door one early morning and began whipping Dimas. His mother, Leah, cried for leniency but the Roman simply shoved her away. When he did so, Dimas took advantage of the distraction. He lunged at the man and in the same motion drew a knife from the inside of his tunic. Dimas plunged a three-inch dagger once, twice, then a third time in rapid succession into the Roman’s heart. The stunned man’s eyes grew big then closed gradually as he tumbled onto the floor. He made a gurgling sound before his body went completely limp.
Dimas wiped the blood off his dagger on the soldier’s own vest. He was breathing hard as he faced his wife and put his hands on her shoulders.
“You and Titus must leave at once. Head south to Jerusalem where your sister lives.”
“And you, Dimas? Where are you going to go?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. All I know is, I can’t remain here. When they discover this man’s body, I will be in more danger than I am already.” He glanced at Titus and gave him a serious look. “Don’t tell anyone you’re my son. Say you are Titus of Galilee. Do you understand?”
Titus nodded.
“Good.” He leaned down and gave Titus a rare hug. “You’ll be seeing me again; mark my words.” He grabbed his satchel and rushed out the door. He never looked back.
After packing their essential items, Titus and his mother, Leah, joined two Jewish families also escaping the Romans’ wrath. As Titus understood, Jews were protesting against a Roman tax to be used to build an aqueduct. Rome was determined to let the Jews know that resistance would be futile. And so, by the end of that dreadful day in Galilee, Titus and his mother began their journey south as Dimas had instructed.
Titus remembered the rolling highlands of Galilee before descending into the wilderness of the Jordan River Valley. High cliffs rose on either side of the valley. He was intrigued by the ancient settlements of Ramoth, Hammath and Adam where there existed almost no Jewish culture as in Galilee.
While he and Leah were not Jewish, they had begun to undertake studies of Mosaic Law with their escapee family friends. When they passed by these villages, Leah and their Jewish friends decided to camp on the outskirts instead of remaining within the confines of a culture different than theirs.
The six day trek had been exciting for Titus. He’d seen predators like jackals and leopards crouched in the thick brush. Yet, it had been frightening at the same time, because he knew thugs like his father lurked on the trail, awaiting a chance to prey on the innocent. He still remembered huddling in their cloaks, protected only by their vigilance, their friends and their walking staffs.
The further south they traveled, the less green they saw. The surface of the dry Judean hills reminded Titus of the barren moonscape which he beheld each night before he fell asleep. It wasn’t until they were approaching Jerusalem that they came to a more developed region where the Jordan River widened and slowed. Their hundred mile journey was finally complete.
During the next three years on the south side of Jerusalem, Titus had become accustomed to living without a father and became comfortable living alone with his mother. He was too young to be left alone so he went everywhere with her. He was at her side to work in the olive orchards, to mend his own clothes, even to pray with the rabbi from the Temple. The holy men there knew of what had happened to Titus in Galilee and had taught him about hope and a better future.
Now that his father was back, things were bound to change again. Titus was hoping for good things, but Leah had warned him not to have great expectations. She knew misery somehow found its way into the lives of everyone his father touched. Men like his father were filled with animal temptations and larcenous instincts. Every night now, since his father had returned, Titus recalled the dead Roman in Galilee lying in a pool of red and prayed for no more bloodshed in his life.
“Here, take this to your mother.” Dimas handed the bag to Titus. “And tell that woman to get some food out here. We’re starving.”

Chapter 2

Titus accepted the small bag of coins from his father and took it to his mother who seemed to have anticipated his father’s request. She was a petite but very strong woman who had cared for Titus in his father’s absence. She had something boiling in a large iron pot that hung over the fire. Of the few items they brought with them from Galilee, this pot had been the most useful. Titus and his mother used it to fetch drinking water, to cook food and to irrigate the tiny garden behind their hut. He knew his father had stolen it from a rich landowner years ago. Most people could only afford a clay pot. At this moment, steam rose through the opening in the ceiling but Titus could still catch the smell of tasty meat.
“Uh, mother?”
“Don’t say it. I heard him. You can hear your father’s voice a mile away, as if he was standing right in front of you. Set that bag on the shelf and grab me those bowls, Titus.” She pointed with her chin to a set of wooden bowls on the floor.
His mother was right. When Dimas was serious, he had a low, deep voice that seemed to emphasize his sense of purpose. But his laughter carried in the air almost as much as it did rumbling through the ground.
Titus picked up the bowls and blew the dust off them before handing them to his mother. “Did you hear what father did? I mean to those two travelers.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him directly. “What those men and your father did is a terrible, sinful thing.” She put one hand on her hip. With the other, she raised her index finger in the air. “Remember, Titus. There is no glory is taking someone’s life. Unless those men repent, they will suffer in hell for all eternity. I know Dimas is your father but their deeds are evil and not to be admired.” She paused and gazed deeper into his eyes, as if searching his soul. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
“Yes, I do.” He extended his arms offering the bowls. He’d heard similar admonitions from the holy men at the temple, especially the ones preaching the word of a man named Jesus. Killing was one of the commandments he’d learned Moses had received directly from God.
His mother took each bowl and filled it with broth. She gave two of them to Titus. “Here, take these out to them and come back for this bread to go with their soup.”
Titus took the two bowls and inhaled the aroma of the steaming broth. It was boiled chicken with a hint of cumin, coriander, salt and other spices he could not identify. No one cooked better than his mother. Right before he stepped out of the room he turned to her. “Mother, if father is such a bad person, why do the two of you still remain together?”
She smiled at him warmly. “If I explain that to you, the soup you’re holding will get very cold. Now, take it out there.”
Titus had heard of this hell his mother had mentioned. He’d learned it from the holy men in Jerusalem. A place called Sheol was where all the sinners went after they died. Would this be his father’s resting place?
Titus handed a bowl of the broth to his father who immediately passed it to Barabbas. Titus took his father’s action to mean he wanted his guest sinners to be served first, so he handed the second bowl to Gestas.
“Ah, yes. Thank you, boy,” said Gestas.
Titus nodded and returned for his father’s bowl and the bread. As he walked away from the men, he heard one of them speak.
“He’s getting to be of age, Dimas. Maybe we should take him out with us. You know, to break him in.”
“Perhaps,” said Barabbas. “But look at what transpired today. One moment we’re stealing loot and in the next we’re taking a life.” The bearded man arched his eyebrows. “Is he ready for that?”
“Well said, my friend,” answered Dimas. “But I see the point I believe Gestas was trying to make. There comes a time when one must stop doing childish things and behave as men do.”
“Precisely my point,” said Gestas, “precisely.”
Titus heard the exchange between the men as if they had been talking directly to him. His hands began to tremble and his knees wobbled. When he entered the hut, his mother handed him the third bowl and the bread. Titus could not hold the bowl steady. The broth in the bowl shook as if an earth tremor had hit underneath his feet. His stomach tightened in knots. When he’d spilled about half the soup, his mother took the bread and bowl from him. He wanted to apologize or say something but his mind froze. His eyes followed her outside but he remained in the hut. He slumped onto a stool by the door and leaned against the wall.
His mother strode with heavy steps to where Dimas lay. The flames before him whipped around as if they felt his mother’s wrath approaching. She thrust the bowl and bread at him. He accepted them in silence. She stood above him and glowered down.
“Dimas, you know very well he heard your every word. You’ve scared him half to death! You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s still a young boy. And just so you know, he is never going to do the dastardly things you do. Do you hear me? Never!”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Titus saw her pivot on her heel and rush back into their home. He heard her muttering to herself as she brushed past him.
“They’ll never grow up.”
Titus hid from a clear view of the men but he peeked through a space between the wooden door and the wall. He could still hear them with unambiguous clarity.
“Well, now,” said Gestas, “I guess we know who runs this house, don’t we?”
Dimas leaned toward the fire and picked up a long stick with burning flames on one end. He stood and walked to Gestas’ location and waved the burning wand back and forth in front of Gestas’ face. Gestas leaned back. He shielded his face with his forearm as if Dimas was preparing to poke him with the torch.
“If I was a child,” said Dimas, “I’d burn your eyes out, right now, but I’m a man and I’ve learned to use restraint. You are lucky I’m in good spirits, my friend.” He paused and looked over his shoulder in his son’s direction. “As for Titus, I already had something special planned for him.”
Titus leaned away from the slit between the door and the wall, hoping his father had not caught him eavesdropping. He shuddered when he realized his manhood might soon be tested. Would he have to kill someone?

Chapter 3

It took Titus a long while to finally relax and stop the shudders that shot through him like pangs of pain. He really didn’t want to accompany his father and those two men to rob and maybe kill someone. He slept uneasily, tossing and turning until he slipped into a shallow state of consciousness. He was startled when he heard his mother call.
“Titus. Wake up, son. It’s time to go into the city. We have work to do.”
He knew what she was referring to. For the last two years his mother had worked in a small chamber in the Womens’ Court and cleaned animals destined for slaughter in the Temple. The actual slaughtering of goats, sheep and lambs was performed by the priests themselves. Titus never understood why his mother would agree to such an unsavory job.
Titus worked alongside other workers who were Jewish servants and slaves, cleaning floors and carrying in firewood into the Chamber of Wood for the sacrificial rituals. It wasn’t a high-paying job for either of them but it provided enough money to keep them from starving.
The sun’s rays came through the east-facing window and bounced off the opposite wall. Titus squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. His head felt heavy. He hadn’t felt this weary since one night a year ago when he and his mother stayed awake with their Jewish friends to pray and await the descending to earth of the Messiah. The Messiah never did appear, only the light of a new day, not unlike this morning.
As Titus sat up, his mother brought him a piece of wheat bread and a hot bowl of the soup left over from the night before. He looked past her. “Where’s father and the men?”
“They’ve already left. I’m not sure where they went. It’s hard to tell with those three.”
When Titus finished eating his soup, he slipped his sandals on. He saw his mother putting things away as if she was hiding them. She wrapped their unused food in a blanket and tucked it under her bed; two planks of wood supported by stones. She covered her cooking utensils with firewood in a corner of the room.
When Titus had first seen her do this, he had been puzzled. “What are you doing?” he asked.
She gave him a serious glance. “We don’t have many possessions and I don’t want a burglar or thief to take what little we do have.”
“You think a thief won’t find our belongings?”
He still remembered her smile as she nodded. “Yes, I know, Titus. Thieves, like your father, can be wily and smart. But theirs is a misdirected use of intelligence. Besides, I do this to make me feel better. It’s the least I can do.”
This morning when she finished her routine, she grabbed her shawl and headed out the door. Titus knew their home was still unprotected but at least his mother felt safe. He folded his bedroll and placed it in a corner of their one-room house.
As they began walking, he noticed a merchant leading a donkey toward the marketplace, his wares packed high on the creature’s back. A small flock of pigeons flapped overhead. Titus grinned, gazing at the colors of the morning sky. In a short while, he and his mother neared the edge of the paupers’ shelter beneath the viaduct. He could tell they were close when he smelled the lepers and heard their groans.
“Don’t let them touch you. Just keep walking,” warned his mother. Some people called them the untouchables. Titus felt sorry for them.
“Yes, mother, I know.”
Some of the lepers were still huddled from the night before, apparently trying to preserve their warmth. They resembled a rubbish heap. But they were real people. And if the teachings of the man called Jesus were true, the lepers within the faith would endure the long and dreary nights. They were not forgotten souls. Such were the words of the Galilean preacher, a relative nobody from a village near Titus’ own, a carpenter’s son.
As they entered the city walls, more people appeared in the streets. The Lower City at the foot of the Temple Mount still slumbered in the embrace of its shadow. This was the seventeenth year of the Roman emperor Tiberius and everything appeared to Titus as tranquil and serene.
He heard the creak of hinges as more and more of the city came to life. Soon, the city was teeming with people who had emerged from their homes. Finally, they arrived at the gate of the Temple grounds.
The stones of the enormous pedestal of this holy place fascinated Titus every time he saw them. The blocks were gleaming white marble and beautifully fitted by skilled artisans. Rays of sun reflected off the gold facades that covered the enormous rectangle of the Sanctuary as well as the courtyards around it and the mammoth porticos that surrounded the entire structure.
Titus looked at a posted sign on the gate pillar. He was still learning to read but he knew what it said. The formal notice declared that non-Jews might not enter the temple’s inner court on pain of death.
Inside the gates the place called the Gentiles Court was bustling with activity. During the last five days the Jewish feast called Passover had been drawing increasingly large crowds.
Titus looked at a window on the third story of the Temple and though he wasn’t sure, he thought he saw Rabbi Moshe looking directly at him and his mother. He wasn’t as high on the hierarchy as Caiaphas the High Priest, but he did come from the family of Ananus and so wielded substantial authority. At least once a week Titus and his mother would meet in a lower, private chamber to study scriptures and receive instruction on how to pray. Titus found it interesting that Rabbi Moshe had joined in discussion and debate with the Galilean Teacher in Jerusalem, apparently intrigued by his teachings.
“This way,” said his mother as she took Titus by the hand. “The Rabbi does not like the servants to be late.”
Titus meant to draw his mother’s attention to the man in the window but when he looked again, the man was gone. They ascended the broad, steep steps. Titus and his mother were used to seeing vendors and guides offering goods and services, but today seemed more crowded than usual. Travelers stood in line waiting to see the Temple, some with offerings of fruit, nuts and grain, all of them prepared to pay their half-shekel to enter.
Titus and Leah nodded to a Temple guard who was armed to preserve order and looked much like a Roman legionnaire with his bare legs and stubby, glinting sword. He nodded back. They avoided the bathing area as they did not contemplate entering the sacred parts of the Temple. They did, however, wash their hands and feet in a wash basin to cleanse themselves before continuing further. Purification, as Titus had learned, was of the utmost importance when entering the temple, even for slaves and workers.
They walked along the interior right side of the wall past the Temple Treasury until they came to a large storage room with high ceilings. There, supplies, such as grains, tools, oils and wood were stored for use in the Temple. The spot for the wood was nearly empty.
“What happened to all the wood?” asked Titus.
A young man’s voice spoke from behind him. “They used it last night during their all-night prayers.”
Titus turned and saw his friend Simon standing, holding a wineskin. He, too, came from a broken family and to Titus’ surprise also from Galilee. Everyone living in Jerusalem regarded Galileans as hayseeds and brigands. That was their common bond. “Hello, Simon. So this means a long day for us?”
Simon grinned. “Maybe so. The Rabbi said there’s a lot happening in the Temple today and we’d best plan for a busy three days. During this time, the Rabbi says three fires have to be kept burning on the Altars constantly.” Pointing to a mark on the wall he said, “We’re supposed to stack the wood all the way up to there.” He held up the wineskin. “We’ll probably need more water than I brought.”
A Temple guard appeared from the side and looked at Titus’ mother. “Follow me,” he said.
Titus’ mother patted him on the shoulder. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. For the first time that day, he caught the faint scent of Gardenias like those from their garden. He watched her escorted away. Why would she wear such a sweet smell to work in the kitchen?

Chapter 4

“You’re wondering where your mother’s going, aren’t you?” asked Simon.
Titus wanted to deny it but he figured the expression on his face made it too obvious. “She’s going to the cleansing chamber to prepare the sacrificial lambs.”
“Yes, and I’m going to be the next Emperor of Rome. Are you pretending to be ignorant or do you really have no idea what’s going on here?”
Titus looked down. He really hadn’t thought about it. The chamber to clean animals was to the right, but the guard had taken his mother directly forward toward the Nicanor Gate, which led into the Priests’ Hall. He was dumbfounded. What was he to say? Not every person was escorted on these grounds by Temple guards, especially those of his lower social class. He and his mother were not Sadducees or even Pharisees, but mere peasants.
“Someone must have taken a liking to your mother, because most adulterous women are burned at the stake.”
Titus jaw tightened. “What are you trying to tell me, Simon? My mother is not an adulterer!”
Simon cast his eyes downward. His sandals were tattered and worn. He softened his voice. “Look, we’re not people of wealth. You know that. We barely have enough to eat from day to day.”
Titus frowned. “Yes, and what is your point?”
“Well, your situation is different than mine.”
Titus was several years younger than his friend and not as knowledgeable about the workings of the Temple. During the past year Simon had grown in strength and his manhood was evident. His shoulders were broader than Titus’ and his arms and legs were firmly muscled. Simon was at least a head taller than him.
“My mother and I started working here only several weeks before you and your mother.” Simon paused, then turned away. He shuffled to an empty two-wheeled cart and lifted the handles. “Come on, let’s talk and work.”
Titus followed the cart out to the Upper Gate on the west side of the structure and then down a small ramp to the outer courtyard in the Court of Gentiles, then outside the western wall gate. There, cut wood was donated by farmers and Jews for use in the Temple.
The courtyard was bustling more than usual, especially with the flow of people that seemed to be using the Temple grounds as a shortcut. The foot traffic entered through the lower East Gate, skirted the central buildings and then exited via West Gate where Titus and Simon stood. The money changers loved the traffic. New arrivals into the Holy City were waved through with barely a glance. Simon set the cart handles down near the wood pile and pointed with his chin.
“You know that tower?” He was indicating toward the Tower of Antonia in the northwest corner of the temple grounds.
“Sure. I’ve never been there, but everyone knows that’s the barracks for the Roman soldiers. What about it?”
“That’s where Marcus works,” said Simon.
“Marcus who?”
“Marcus Donatus, one of Pontius Pilate’s centurions. Maybe you’ve seen him. He’s the dark-skinned one from the North African cohort. My mother and him . . . you might say they were intimately acquainted.”
Indeed, few people had not taken notice of Marcus Donatus. He was a muscular man with skin the color of black olives and at least head and shoulders taller than the soldiers from Rome.
Titus also knew Simon’s father had died in a mining accident years ago, so adultery was not an issue. But he began to wonder why his friend was sharing these private details of his mother’s affairs. As Titus recalled, she did not possess striking beauty though she appeared to be a warm and sincere person. She worked in the chamber preparing animals for sacrifice alongside Leah, Titus’ mother.
“Your mother and a centurion?” gasped Titus.
Before Simon could answer, there was a woman’s scream about two blocks away. He looked up in the direction of the voice and saw a commotion taking place.
“What is it?” asked Titus, craning his neck to get a better view.
“Not sure, but it looks like someone is chasing a man headed in this direction.”
The crowds parted. Within a few seconds Titus saw the unmistakable face of his father and Gestas, his father’s thieving friend. Dimas was carrying something close to his belly. As he got closer, Titus noticed it was an item wrapped in burlap cloth. Dimas and Gestas saw Titus at the same time and made a direct line for him. As they came within a few feet from him, Dimas thrust the wrapped bundle into Titus’ gut.
“Here, this is tonight’s dinner. Cover it up with your wood and take it home.” Dimas was panting. “I’m getting too old for this.”
“They’re coming!” said Gestas, his eyes growing larger with something that resembled exhilaration. “This way.”
Titus and Simon instinctively closed ranks as they stood next to each other blocking any view of the bundle. Several members of the crowd chasing Dimas and Gestas shot a suspicious glance in Titus and Simon’s direction but kept up the pursuit. When the chasing mob disappeared around a city block, Titus made sure no one was looking at him and then set the bundle in the cart. He lifted the cloth and Simon’s eyes widened.
“Look at that!” he said. “Your father sure knows how to provide for his family.”
They both stared at a solid chunk of lamb roast. It was still fresh and wet with animal juices. Titus quickly covered it again and they both laid a cover of firewood on top. After returning to their work station, Titus hid the meat. He stared at the wood that covered the bundled lamb roast.
“I think we should take it back to its rightful owner,” he said.
“Are you out of your mind?” asked Simon. “You are the rightful owner.” He grinned at Titus. “Besides you didn’t steal it, someone else did. You got it as a gift.”
Titus shook his head. There was no use arguing with his friend over such an illogical point. He was in possession of stolen goods, making him just as guilty of robbery as his no-good father. But it had been a long time since he and his mother had eaten fresh meat. He set the bundle against the wall on the floor next to the wood and covered it once more. He glanced at a servant passing by with clean linens in his arms, then back at Simon. “Let’s get to work before anyone accuses us of being lazy peasants.”
The sun was at its highest point when Leah appeared. “Titus, Simon, are you boys almost finished?” She glanced at the mark on the wall. She seemed to have noticed the camouflaged bundle on the floor almost immediately. She glanced from one boy to the other, as if to say “What is that?”
Titus went to the covered meat and motioned his mother closer. He moved some wood aside, lifted the cloth and showed her the lamb roast.
“What are you doing with that? Are you holding it for someone?”
“It’s ours, Mother.” He replaced the cloth over the meat and glanced at Simon who averted his look. “Father came by earlier and left this for us.”
“Your father was here?”
“Yes, well not exactly here in the Temple. I saw him when we were outside the gate getting some wood. He gave it to me, said it was our dinner, then he left.”
“Was he with those wretched friends of his?”
Titus raised a finger as if to make clear there was only one. “Just Gestas. I didn’t see Barabbas.”
His mother wrung her hands as if unsure what to do. She scanned the hallway leading to the Court of Women and the Temple Treasury nearby. When it appeared there was no one in the area, she instructed Titus. “Quick! Wrap that bundle with my shawl.” She looked at Titus’ friend. “Simon, you and your mother are welcome to have part of this food, if you’d like.”
“What food?” asked Simon. He shook his head. “I didn’t see anything.”

Chapter 5

On their way home, Titus and his mother retraced their steps once again through the Lower City and further down the road by the leper colony. He smelled the pungent odor of decaying flesh even before they reached the first leper hunched on the side of the road. In the distance they saw two groups of people, a dozen lepers huddled on one side of their path and about a hundred non-lepers several arms’ lengths away, all assembled around something or someone.
Leah grabbed Titus’ tunic at the shoulder and pulled him forward. He quickened his pace, being careful not to drop the chunk of lamb in his arms.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. He wasn’t as tall as her yet and could not see through the throng ahead. His mother’s face lit up as if she had just been told a bit of joyous news.
“It’s Him!” she exclaimed.
“Who, Mother?”
“The Jewish teacher, the healer from Galilee, the one called Jesus. Come, let’s hear what he’s saying.”
Titus had heard of this miracle-worker but neither he nor his mother had actually seen him. Actually, few people had seen this man. His teachings had taken place further north in Galilee. Around Jerusalem, his followers only spoke of him in the church houses and select synagogues to avoid the wrath of the Romans and suspicious Jews. Titus knew, as did all Jews and Gentiles, the worst offense against Roman power was insurrection. This man, Jesus, was rumored to be king of the Jews.
The hundred peasants and lepers watched and listened as the Teacher spoke. Leah and Titus drew within twenty feet of him and the Teacher turned as if he heard someone call his name. He looked directly at Titus. His eyes were as dark as the pool where Titus drew water for his mother. Then, from the throng a leper begged a request.
“Heal me, Jesus. If it’s in your heart and you want to, you can heal me.”
The man called Jesus had long, narrow features and didn’t look much different than Titus’ father. They both had dark hair and full beards, like the majority of men in these parts. They both wore simple tunics and sandals on their feet. But this man wore something indefinable, something you could sense but could not see. He seemed to be cloaked in an air of supreme confidence. As Titus would soon learn, the self-assurance was also there in his words.
The leper fell to his knees and raised his hands in supplication. Titus knew everyone who lived eventually died, but these untouchables whose lips and faces were distorted by sores never had a real life. It was then that a strange occurrence transpired. Jesus placed his right hand on the forehead of the leper as the crowd gasped. How could anyone, especially a teacher of the word of God, touch anything so unclean?
“I do want to heal you. Your faith is self-evident in your request and it is to be rewarded. Be made clean,” said the Teacher.
Titus wasn’t sure if it was real or only his imagination but a circle of light beamed down on the leper for the span of a few heartbeats. The crowd looked up to the sky, as did Titus, trying to locate the source of the light. The endpoint of the light appeared to be beyond the thin clouds, high in the heavens. When the assembled people collectively lowered their gaze onto the leper, his sores and blisters were completely gone.
“Rise,” commanded Jesus, “and give praise and glory to God.”
The assemblage drew in breaths of disbelief when the leper stood upright. The once-diseased man was now cleansed, healthy and crying tears of joy.
“I must go now,” declared the Teacher. He looked at the leper and said, “Tell no one what has happened here, but show yourself to the priests and remember to make an offering in connection with your cleansing.”
“Master, can we come with you?” asked a follower.
“Where I am going, no man can come,” he answered. Jesus and a group of ten to twelve men then began walking in the direction of the East Gate of the Temple.
Titus and the assembled crowd stood in awe as the group of men marched away.
“Heal me!” yelled another leper. Then, the remaining lepers joined in chorus, their arms reaching out, “Heal me! Heal me!”
The Teacher and his followers did not turn back. In fact, it appeared Jesus and the departing entourage quickened their pace. Finally, Titus tugged on his mother’s tunic. She pushed back her head covering and he whispered into her ear as she bent down. “Where’s he going mother?”
“I’m not sure, son, but I think he’s talking about a place not on this earth.” She must have seen the puzzled look on Titus’ face because she quickly added, “I’ll try to explain it to you at home. Come, let’s go prepare the food your father gave you.”
Titus gazed at the still-afflicted lepers as they marveled at the healed one. Titus looked up at his mother. “Will he come back to heal the others, too?”
Leah shrugged as her eyes became moist.

Chapter 6

“So, how’s our messiah?” Dimas’ question dripped sarcasm.
Titus saw his father smile as Leah ignored him by taking the chunk of meat from Titus. She hurried past Dimas and entered their home, leaving Titus standing outside with his father.
“How about you, Titus? Did you see this teacher, the Nazarene prophet everyone’s talking about?”
A mild case of panic set in. Titus looked away as he felt his throat constrict. Dimas had never before asked him about his mother’s religious beliefs or about the man called Jesus. Before he could respond to his father’s question, Leah called from inside their home.
“Titus, come here son. I need your help.”
Dimas grinned. “Go. See what she wants. We’ll talk later.”
Titus felt the stress vanish as he turned to accompany his mother. There was no telling what his father and Gestas were up to. Once inside, he helped Leah cut the meat and start a fire to cook their food. When he sat on the floor to rest, fatigue overtook him and the next thing he knew it was dusk.
“Just in time, son,” said his mother. “The meat your father provided has turned out well.”
The smell of stewed lamb was in the air. Titus rose, stretched his muscles, then twisted his torso to loosen up. He stuck a finger in the cooking pot and licked the broth off his fingertip. “Umm, yes, it’s very tasty.”
“Titus, go tell the men I’ll have their food ready in a short while. They’re always wandering around. Maybe the world can rest untroubled for a while.”
Titus stepped out of their home and strolled to Dimas’ side. Gestas appeared to be taking a nap and Dimas sat cross-legged, staring into their small campfire.
Dimas spoke. “Gestas and I think you ought to join us tomorrow.”
Titus glanced at Gestas and then back at his father. Gestas smiled without opening his eyes. So he wasn’t asleep. Titus saw the grin on their faces. He wasn’t sure if they were teasing him or serious about including him in their evil deeds. He crossed his legs and squatted next to his father.
“Join you for what?”
Dimas scooted to Titus’ side and cradled an arm around his shoulders. “We’re going to rob the Jewish Temple tomorrow.”
“What! The temple?” asked Titus. “Everybody there knows me, well not everybody, but a lot of people know my face. Besides, it’s one of the well-guarded places in Jerusalem.”
“Yes, we’re aware of both those points. In fact, that’s why we want you involved. You, my son, are going to be the diversion that will allow us to enter the Temple in plain sight.”
“What do you mean in plain sight?”
Gestas opened his eyes and glanced at Titus. “Look here,” he said. He sat up, pulled a dagger from his waistband and leaned low to the ground. He drew a large rectangle in the dirt and then a smaller rectangle inside of it. “You see this here? It’s the East Gate. Here’s the east entrance to the Temple.”
Titus knew all this. In fact, he probably knew the temple grounds better than his father. His eyes brightened when he jabbed at one corner of the small rectangle. “This is the Temple Treasury, where the gold is kept. That’s where we aim to go, right there.”
“Your idea won’t work,” said Titus, “Besides, what kind of diversion did you have planned for me?”
The smile left Dimas’ face. “Since when did you become knowledgeable in these affairs?”
“If you mean knowledgeable in taking other people’s belongings, I have no experience. If you mean knowledgeable about the Temple grounds, I am very well acquainted with premises as well as the routine and method of the Jews’ practices. I know when they come and go. I know when they eat, sleep and pray.”
“I told you he’d be valuable to us,” said Gestas, grinning at Dimas.
Dimas rubbed his chin, looked down at the drawing, then glanced at their home as if to assure himself Leah was not listening. “Perhaps, you can tell us why our plan will not work.”
Titus stood, walked to Gestas and took the dagger from him. He went down on one knee as Dimas crossed his arms.
“You see this gate?” Titus pointed to the gate opposite the one Gestas had indicated. “That’s the one with less traffic, especially in the evening after supper. After the country people have left the city for the night that entrance to the Temple grounds has almost no foot traffic and sometimes no guard at all.”
“So, maybe sometime after sundown. Is that what you’re saying?” asked Dimas.
“Yes, but getting out will not be as easy as getting in,” cautioned Titus.
The lines on Gestas’ forehead furrowed. “Why?”
“Because you can be light-footed going in,” answered Titus, “but coming out you’ll have a heavy load. Too easily noticed by the grounds people, I would think.”
“I see your point,” said Dimas. He rose and ambled a short distance from the campfire. His head turned up. A full moon drifted from behind the clouds and lit a distant mountain, turning whitewashed cliffs into blue pearls. Dimas returned to his original spot and eased himself to a squatting position once again. “Here’s what I think,” he said, as he held up the four weathered fingers of his left hand. “There’s going to be four of us. Barabbas has agreed to join us. I spoke with him earlier today.”
Titus was not surprised at his father’s assumption that his son would join them in the robbery. He knew his father was not providing him with a choice in the matter. But the entire scheme troubled him beyond the physical danger involved. The Jews in the Temple and especially Rabbi Moshe had treated him and his mother well. He would hate to dispossess them of anything, even if his success was assured. “Maybe we could rob the Romans’ quarters instead.”
“You can’t be serious. What on earth would we want from them?” asked Gestas.
“Gestas is right,” said Dimas. “The legionnaires have meager possessions and the wealth of their leader, Pontius Pilate, is beyond our reach. We’d be walking into our own death-trap if we set foot in the Tower of Antonia.” He shot a quick glance at Gestas then at Titus. “What’s wrong with taking from the rich Jews?”
The rhetorical question hung in the air as the fire flickered and danced. Titus loved sitting out here with the men. He only wished they were conspiring plots other than robbing the holiest of places.
“And what about Rabbi Moshe?” asked Dimas.
Titus avoided his father’s gaze and stared into the fire. “What about him?”
“Will he help us rob the temple?”
This time it was Titus who was incredulous. “A rabbi helping to rob the Temple? I don’t think that’s going to happen. He’s one of them, not one of us.”
“Is he now?” asked Dimas. He reached for a small log and threw it on the blaze, causing a million sparks to scatter like frightened fireflies into the darkening skies. “Jerusalem, they say is a city of many secrets.” His eyes followed an ember upward until it extinguished itself. “But some secrets seep out without their owners’ knowledge.”
What does that mean, thought Titus. This was the second time his mother’s repeating rendezvous with the rabbi had been brought up, first by Simon and now by his father. Or was it? Maybe his father was referring to something altogether different. Only one way to find out. “What secrets are you referring to?”
Gestas chuckled and pointed in Leah’s direction. “Let’s just say your mother gets along exceedingly well with the rabbi for a converted gentile.”
Titus straightened his back. Somehow the insinuation that he, too, was a converted Gentile didn’t unsettle him. “They’re good friends. The rabbi is my friend, too.”
“I’m sure he is,” mumbled Dimas. “I’m sure he is.”
Dimas’ words hung in the air for a long time. Then the silence became awkward. Titus rose and pointed with his thumb. “I forgot. Mother said the food’s almost done.”

Chapter 7

“Here’s the plan for tonight,” said Dimas. Gestas, Barabbas and Titus sat around a clear spot on the ground on which Dimas was using a stick to draw a diagram.
“I thought you were going to wait till the Sabbath to enter the Temple. Tonight’s only Thursday.” Titus glanced at the other men and they, too, had a confused expression.
“We are,” said Dimas.
“But you just said we’re going tonight.”
“Pay attention, Boy!” snapped Dimas. “I did not say we’re robbing the Temple. We’re going to rob the Romans.”
Titus wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. The men had already made clear the only wealth to pilfer from the Romans would be from Pontius Pilate himself. There was no way they’d come out alive if they tried to rob him. As the fifth Prefect of the Roman province of Judea, Pilate had only been in Jerusalem seven years but he was as heavily guarded in Herod’s Palace as the Emperor Tiberius was in Rome.
Without a tone of doubt or uncertainty Gestas asked, “Alright, what’s the plan?”
With the stick he held, Dimas drew a rectangle, scratched a long line and connected it to a second rectangle. He pointed to the first. “This is the Temple.” He moved the stick along the line. “And this is the Tower.”
“Oh, so we’re not going into Herod’s Palace?” asked Titus. Dimas glared at him wearing that expression that always made Titus feel he’d said something stupid. He wondered whether Barabbas and Gestas were pondering the same question running through his head. What were they stealing?
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Dimas, “And no, we won’t get caught. Here’s why.” Now, he had everyone’s undivided attention. “We’re going into the Tower to steal the Jewish vestments.” He paused to let the words sink in.
“But they’re holy relics and there’s Hebrew laws against public display of them unless it’s for ceremonial services,” said Titus, shaking his head.
“Holy Schmoly!” said his father with exaggerated alarm in his voice. “What do you think this is, some exercise in civil obedience? We’re robbing the damn place!”
Barabbas and Gestas burst into laughter and Titus couldn’t help but smile along with them. He should have known his father would ignore the Hebrew laws just as he did all the others that got in his way.
“Nobody will want to buy the vestments once you have them,” said Titus. “They’re too easily identified and traceable to us. The vestments won’t be of much use to us, at least not in Jerusalem.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he thought of the ease with which he had associated himself with his father’s dastardly plot. Could it be that he was actually looking forward to the execution of his father’s plan?
“O ye of little faith,” smiled Dimas. He put his arm around Titus shoulders. “It’s not the actual vestments we want to profit from. It’s the diversion they will create for us. That’s where you come in, son.”
Titus was beginning to see that his knowledge of Hebrew customs and practices as well as the layout of the Temple was going to be put to full use.
Dimas tightened the hug around his son. “Tonight, you’re going to pose as a courier for your mother’s rabbi friend and we’re going to act as your slaves.”
“Me?” asked Titus.
“Yes, you,” answered Dimas. He shot a glance at Barabbas “I was thinking maybe we’ll keep Barabbas out of sight, since he might be recognized by the Roman soldiers more so than Gestas or me.”
Barabbas and Gestas nodded in approval.
Titus was still unclear. “So, if we do rob the Tower, how does that create a disturbance at the Temple on the Sabbath?”
“I’ve decided we’re not robbing the Temple on the Sabbath. We’re doing it tomorrow instead, and it’ll be more than a disturbance. When they learn that their precious garments are missing, we want the Jews to riot and cause mayhem in the streets.”
Barabbas spoke for the first time in the planning. “What is my role while you’re in the Tower tonight?”
“You, my friend, are the muscle in the group. You’ll subdue the Roman guard at the north entrance to the Tower. From what Titus tells us, there is almost no activity there in the late hours in the fourth watch. Don’t kill him unless you have to. From that point forward, it’s Titus, Gestas and me. We locate the vestments, take the more valuable-looking ones and leave promptly.”
Then, it was Gestas’ turn. “Dimas, I might be sounding like your boy, but how do the vestments help us tomorrow?”
Titus grinned.
“It works like this,” said Dimas, leaning down to scribble on the ground again. “Assuming things go well tonight, we’ll use the news of our robbery to cause a stir at the Temple tomorrow. As I understand, there is to be a sacrificial ceremony scheduled at sunset.” He was poking at the ground where the East Gate to the Temple grounds would be. “Those Jews are very fond of their rituals and garments, aren’t they, Titus?”
“Yes, that is true,” answered Titus, “but I’m not sure a few missing vestments will cause the commotion you seek.”
“When we start the rumors and gossip about the theft of the vestments, I plan on spicing up the story and let it spread like a wild fire. You’ll see.”
The evening shadows were spreading from the Mount of Olives across the Kidron Valley and Titus felt a cold blanket of shame come over him. It was an effort for him to get motivated, knowing what a show of false manhood the evening would require. In a few hours he’d be putting his life in danger, and for what? To please his father, to prove his manhood, or simply to save face?
Hours later, the three men and Titus sat once again staring at the campfire. Their criminals’ meeting having been concluded, Dimas playfully lobbed a twig in Titus’ direction.
“So, tell me of this prophet, Jesus. What do you know of him?”
Titus picked up the twig and threw it back at Dimas, who blocked it with his forearm and ducked his head. “He’s a teacher of peace. He teaches that we ought to love one another because fighting and hating is not healthy or good. He’s performed miracles like healing a leper. I saw it with my own eyes. People say he brought sight to a blind man and that he walked on water. Jesus himself says we’re all equal in the eyes of our God and Creator.”
Gestas looked on and chuckled. “And what God would that be? Jupiter, Zeus, or maybe Venus?”
Titus was not thrown by the levity in Gestas’ question. “No, Jesus teaches there is only one God, but his god is not one of those. In fact, he’s right here, listening to us right now.”
With those words, Barabbas sat up erect and looked around as Gestas reached for his dagger. Dimas remained calm and glanced from one man to the other.
Then a woman’s voice spoke. “I’m surprised you men have not heard of this prophet’s teachings.” It was Leah. She’d cut up some dried cheese and wheat bread and brought the food to the men. She also handed a few dried figs to Titus as a treat. She continued. “Jesus offers hope for eternal happiness in paradise. You men would do well to listen to his wisdom.”
In a rare display of civility or perhaps in an effort to get rid of her, Dimas said, “Thank you. Now, leave us. We have private matters to discuss.”
When Leah was back in their home, Dimas spoke in a soft tone. “Titus, did you learn this, this talk of one god, from that Rabbi Moshe?” He must have noticed Titus’s clenched fists and his hesitation to answer because then he added, “It’s alright. It will not upset me. I’m just interested. That’s all.”
Titus relaxed his shoulders. “Yes, father, I did.”
“Very well, then,” said Dimas. “Pray to your god that everything goes well for us tonight.”

Chapter 8

The walk to the Tower of Antonia did not take long in actual time but it seemed like an eternity for Titus. With every step, he legs felt heavier and his stomach tighter. He felt like turning around and abandoning his father’s cause.
A white tunic with a medium-length robe that hung to his low back made him feel strange, as if he was one of those Roman dignitaries he’d seen arrive through the east gate of the Temple. He felt the tunic stick to his sweating skin.
His father had been correct. There was only one guard at the north entrance. The Roman was seated on a stool, his back pressed against the wall. Dimas and Gestas walked two paces behind Titus as they came up to the legionnaire. Barabbas slithered up in the shadows of the buildings but remained at least ten meters behind. The moonlight was sufficient to provide some detail to the guard but not enough to distinguish the approaching Jews from impostors. He stood quickly and brandished his spear.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
“I am Titus. I come from the Rabbi Moshe at the Temple. I am here to pick up the vestments for today’s ceremonies.”
The soldier studied Titus. “And who comes with you?”
Titus nodded toward his father and Gestas. The two men did not look the guard in the eyes. Instead, they faked a submissive posture, heads bowed, hands clasped in front. “These are workers from the Temple. They are here to assist me,” said Titus with as much calm as he could muster. He was glad the tunic covered his knees because they were shaking in fear.
“What kind of ceremonies? No one told me about any ceremonies this early.”
“Perhaps you have heard of the Jewish Passover. It’s a Jewish holiday and festival. It commemorates the story of the Exodus, in which the ancient Israelites were freed from slavery in Egypt. Then there’s the celebration of the . . .”
“Stop!” interrupted the guard. “I don’t need to hear all that rubbish. Go on. Get your vestments and make it quick.”
As he and the two men passed by the guard, it dawned upon Titus that he didn’t know exactly where the vestments were located. Now he was caught in a conundrum. If he confessed his ignorance, the guard would be alerted to their conniving scheme. If he didn’t ask for directions, they’d never find the vestments.
“Excuse me, Sir?” he asked the guard.
Dimas whispered to his son. “What are you doing? Keep moving!”
“What is it now?” asked the guard.
“I’m a . . .” Titus cleared his throat. “I am here replacing my friend, Simon. He’s the one who normally returns the vestments after the ceremonies.”
The guard walked up to Titus and stood face to face with him. His breath smelled of garlic and wine. “So you’ve never been in the Tower?”
“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. But I remember instructions well, if you’ll only point me in the right direction.”
“Uh huh,” said the guard. Titus stood erect, but very still as the soldier walked around him, studying his garb. “Wait here, I have to clear this with my superiors.”
“No, wait!” said Titus.
“What did you say? Are you the one to give orders now?” The guard was at least a full head taller than Titus. His look bore down on the Jewish imposters. “Those might be your vestments in there, but no one goes in or out without my say so.”
The guard pivoted on his heel and took a step toward the interior of the Tower. At almost the same time, Barabbas appeared from the shadows and wrapped his left arm around the soldier’s neck. With a smooth motion of his right hand, Barabbas slid his knife across the man’s throat.
The man crumpled onto the stone floor, making gurgling sounds. He held both his hands on the wound trying to stop the flow of blood, but he was not dead.
Gestas made sure that he was. He pulled out his own dagger, lunged at the guard and stabbed the man twice in the general area of his kidneys. With that, the guard groaned and his body went limp. The struggle was over.
Titus stared at the guard’s corpse. The dead man still had his hands on his own throat and gave the appearance of having strangled himself.
“Don’t worry about him,” said Dimas. “He’s not a danger to us anymore.” He gave Titus a reassuring pat on the back and nodded toward the corridor in the Tower. He spoke in what Titus thought was a remarkably calm voice. “Come, we must hurry.”
Titus’ knees felt weak as he led the three men. They each poked their heads into door openings and entrances to storage rooms. The hallway smelled of oil-burning torches and sweaty men. They continued until at the end of the corridor they came upon a closed, heavy wooden door. The inscription upon it read, “EBREI.”
“I think this is it,” said Titus. He tried to push the door inward. It moved only the tiniest bit, but did not open.
He turned to look back at the men and he realized that Barabbas was not in the group. Dimas and Gestas without saying a word to each other leaned toward the door and rammed it with their shoulders. The force of their weight broke the hinges and the door plunked on the tiled floor.
Titus stepped into the room behind his father. Before him, Titus saw shelves mounted on the wall upon which sat menorahs, candlesticks and incense-burning devices. Jewel-covered garments hung on the walls. Some were purple, some were red, some silky white, but all were displayed like the garments Titus had seen for sale by expensive clothiers in Jerusalem.
“Which ones do we take?” asked Dimas.
Titus looked around. He had absolutely no idea what was valuable and what was not. He pointed to the richly embroidered tunics hanging on the wall. “Take those white ones with the gold braided edges, oh, and those head coverings over there, too.”
Titus then recognized an item he’d seen the Rabbi wear. It was a richly embroidered vest or apron with two onyx stones on the shoulders, on which were engraved the names of the Tribes of Israel. Next to it was a breastplate made of pure gold and set with twelve gems, each engraved with the name of one of the Tribes of Israel. It was fastened to the embroidered vest. He began to grab the items himself but was stopped by Dimas.
“No. If you’re supposed to be our master, you can’t be carrying anything.”
Gestas chuckled. “Enjoy this moment, Boy. You may never get to order your father around again in your life.”
The smile left Dimas’ face as he shot a serious look at Gestas. “Don’t give him any ideas.”
Titus checked the corridor and when he saw no guards, he hand-signaled to the men to follow him. They walked hurriedly, retracing their steps to the north gate. They had just crossed the threshold exiting the compound when a burly voice yelled out to them.
“Hey, you with the garments, where are you going with those?”
Titus glanced to his left in the direction of the voice. It was the same spot where the first guard had been stationed. Apparently, Barabbas had moved the corpse. Walking toward Titus was a groggy-looking centurion.
Dimas spoke in a low growl to his son as he and Gestas kept walking away from the compound wall. “Ignore him, Titus. If you stop now, we’ll be discovered and you don’t want to know what they’ll do to us then. Come on!”
“I’m speaking to you, boy!” yelled the centurion.
Titus knew that he’d be in a conundrum with whatever choice he made. If he stopped to answer the guard’s questions, he’d likely be discovered, like his father said, but if he ran, surely they’d all be caught and nothing good could result from that.
“No, father. I can handle him. You two keep going. I’ll meet up with you later.”
“Fine,” said Dimas, “but be sure and call for us if he gives you any problems.”
Titus waved his father and Gestas away as if he were a master directing his slaves to carry on with their tasks. He turned and faced the Roman directly. The man with the darkest skin Titus had ever seen was clearly a foreigner serving in the Roman army. Could this be Marcus Donatus the paramour of Simon’s mother? He tried to lower his voice to sound more mature.
“I am Titus of Galilee. I work for Rabbi Moshe in the Holy Temple.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass who you are. You need permission from me to retrieve those items and nobody told me you were coming. Where’s the guard that let you in?”
Titus looked around, trying to kill time and allow his father and Gestas to walk farther away. He shrugged. “I can’t account for your guard. He was here only a few moments ago.”
The centurion looked past Titus at the two men departing with their arms full of vestments. He, too, scanned the area. He must have seen the smears of blood on the ground. “This smells of lies and suspicion to me.” He pointed at Dimas and Gestas, now twenty paces away. “You, with the garments, stop right there!”
Titus saw Dimas and Gestas slow their pace and glance back at him and the centurion. Then, he saw his father drop the garments and come charging back toward him. He wasn’t sure whether his father had changed his mind or had simply lost it. He was about to yell at him to return to his duties when he heard a heavy thud behind him. He turned in time to see the centurion’s knees buckle and give way.
Barabbas stood over the centurion’s crumpled body with a cabbage-sized stone in his hands. He spit on the soldier and muttered, “I don’t need your permission for anything!”
The centurion groaned and tried to sit up but fell onto on his side.
“He’s still alive, Kill him!” shouted Gestas who stood with his load of garments still in his arms.
The sound of numerous voices could be heard heading in their direction. Titus saw his father draw a dagger from his waist belt and approach the man on the ground. Titus was sure this was the centurion from the African contingent. “Wait! Father let me do this.” He reached for the dagger. “I can stall the Romans, if they see me. You have to take those vestments and leave, now!”
Barabbas took the dagger from Dimas and handed to Titus. “Here. You have a choice. Either a quick slash to the throat or two jabs to the heart, and make it quick.” He turned and pulled on Dimas’ elbow. “Come, it’s his turn to learn the trade. You can’t do it for him.”
Dimas had a look that appeared strange to Titus. It seemed as if his father was ready to cry. He waited till the two men gathered the garments and scurried around the far corner of the nearest building.
Titus knelt on one knee and put the dagger next to the centurion’s throat. “Are you Marcus Donatus?” he whispered into the man’s ear.
“Yes, I am,” he answered, scrunching his face in obvious pain.
“Listen to me well, Marcus Donatus. I am Titus of Galilee and I have the power to end your life in my hands. Do you understand?”
The centurion groaned. “Yes, yes, of course.”
“Good. Now, I have a request. Grant me this request and you shall live.” Titus pushed the dagger just enough to draw blood from the smallest vein he could find. “Cross me and you’ll die, understand?”
At first, the black centurion remained silent, then he grunted. “Fine. What is it you wish from me?”
“I want you to be on duty at the Jewish Temple tomorrow at sundown,” said Titus.
“Then what?”
“Then, I will give you further instructions.” Titus heard the voices of several men getting closer. “For now, pretend you are unconscious and I will disappear.”
“Do what?” asked Donatus.
Titus could not wait. He reached for the stone that Barabbas had used and struck the man with just enough force to knock him unconscious. His hands were trembling and his knees felt weak but he managed to gather his senses and run as fast as he could. He turned the corner around which he’d seen the men vanish but there was no one there, only an empty street on a cool spring dawn.

Chapter 9

When he arrived home, Titus was surprised that the men were not there. He surveyed the area as he caught his breath from running. He looked at his mother.
“The men and father, where are they?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know where they are. They haven’t come back yet.”
“They left before me. I was sure they’d return here.”
His mother came close to him and cupped her hand gently over his cheek. “Return from where? Are you alright? Titus, your face is as pale as if you’ve just seen Satan himself.”
“Oh, mother, I shouldn’t tell you this but. . .” He didn’t want to jeopardize his father’s plans. He knew their thievery always worked best in secrecy and in the shadows.
Titus dropped to his knees, hugged his mother’s dress around her legs and began to weep. His mother hugged him back then helped him to a standing position. She took him by the shoulders.
“It’s alright, son. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Titus shook his head. “No, I can’t keep a secret like this from you. I haven’t seen the devil tonight, mother, but I acted like him.”
“Dear Lord, what are you saying? What happened? What did you do, that could be so terrible?”
Titus wiped the tears from his eyes and looked around to make sure no one else was near enough to hear. “I hurt a man, Mother. I don’t think I killed him but I knocked him unconscious.”
“I see, I see,” said his mother. “It’s perfectly natural to feel scared after something like that.” She paused as if measuring her words then she asked, “What made you do that, Titus?”
He did not answer.
She pressed on. “I’m sure it was necessary to protect yourself, right?”
Titus avoided the question and pulled out the dagger and showed it to her. “I used this to cut his throat.”
“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, stepping back from the dagger as if it was evil incarnate itself. “But you said you ‘knocked’ out a man. Why did you cut him, too?”
Two things happened at once. First, Titus fell into a tongue-tied state of confusion as to how to answer his mother and second, his father’s voice bellowed from behind him.
“There he is, our fake Jew. Well done, Titus. There’s hope for you yet,” said his father pounding his back in congratulations. Alongside him were Gestas and Barabbas. All of them were empty-handed.
“Where’s the garments?” asked Titus. His father and the men gave him a strange grin.
“We hid them,” answered Dimas. “Don’t worry. The Romans won’t find them.”
Titus knew Gestas and Barabbas lived in the streets, so they had no place of their own to hide such precious loot. “Did you bury it somewhere?”
The three men broke into hearty laughter.
“No, no,” said Dimas. “That would have been too much work.” He paused as Titus glanced at his mother, who simply shook her head.
Titus wasn’t sure whether she was indicating that the men had not brought her the stolen goods or was simply giving evidence of her condemnation of their conduct.
Dimas pointed to the ground in front of Titus, as if the garments were piled before him. “We hid them in plain sight. I’m confident the Romans won’t go looking for them there, much less the Jews.”
Titus’ mind raced trying to figure out where the garments might be hidden. These men were vagabonds and ruffians, so hiding the items indoors was unlikely. By his estimation, Titus guessed they stashed the loot in a cave somewhere in the hills around Jerusalem. The look of puzzlement must have been obvious in his face. Gestas took a step toward him.
“If you had to pick a place, Titus, that would make you shudder, where would that be? Figure that out and you’ll know where we left those robes.”
A place to make him shudder? Titus cocked his head and looked back and forth between Gestas and Barabbas. He studied their sweaty faces. How could he fathom what these men considered disdainful? Titus began to think out loud.
“If I was a Roman, I hate to be in a lion pit, fighting for my life. If I was a Jew, I’d shudder the thought of any place ungodly or sinful.”
Barabbas piped in. “Ah! But you are neither Roman nor Jew. So where does that leave you?”
Titus thought for a moment. “That leaves me outside all that is Roman or Jewish. That leaves me outside of Jerusalem, beyond the city walls.” It suddenly dawned on him that the only people outside the city were country peasants like his family and, of course, the lepers. His eyes grew large as Titus turned to his father. “You left the Jewish garments with the lepers?”
“Why not?” said Dimas. “The Romans won’t dare go there.”

Chapter 10

After Leah fed the men and Titus some stew she’d cooked with pieces of the roast from the day before, she asked Titus to come inside their home. He lowered his head as he passed by the men and tried not to look them in the eyes. He felt more than a little embarrassed being told what to do by a woman in front of the men. After all, he’d just participated in a robbery that was supposed to have been his entry into manhood. It wasn’t so much his mother’s orders that bothered him as much as the taunting he was sure to receive when he rejoined the men later that evening.
His mother sat on a small wool rug and Titus lowered himself to a cross-legged position in front of her. She leaned forward and took his hands in hers. He felt her warmth and wondered how she could have such a delicate touch after all the physical work she performed every day. Her hands were fissured like the desert lands he’d seen when they traveled from Galilee to Jerusalem.
“Titus, what you did to that man earlier today, I know you meant him no harm. It’s not like you to hurt anyone. Still, you did cause someone pain and now,”
“But mother . . .”
“Wait,” she said raising her finger in the air. Then in a gentle, but firm voice she added, “Let me finish. Then you can speak your mind.”
Titus looked away and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you remember our studies with Rabbi Moshe, the ones where we spoke of caring for our neighbors, our friends and even our enemies? Do you remember those?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And do you know the reason why the Rabbi says we should love one another?”
He was looking at his smudged knees when he shot a quick glance up. She was staring right into his eyes.
“Because we’re all brothers and sisters in God’s eyes?”
“Indeed! And by striking that man, you may as well have struck your best friend, Simon.”
When Titus looked at it that way, it made sense. Besides, Donatus had not harmed Titus, though he might have a few moments later. If only she knew the circumstances, he thought, then she’d know I had no choice. “I’m sorry, mother.”
“Don’t apologize to me. It is the wounded man to whom you owe your apology. And it is God whom you should ask to be forgiven.”
Now Titus was glad his mother had brought him inside to lecture him. He’d never hear the end of it, if she’d berated him before the others. His mother squeezed his hand softly and bowed her head. Without seeing her face, he felt as if she was still watching him, so he bowed his head as well.
“Dear Father,” she began almost in a whisper, leaving him to wonder whether she did not want the men to hear her. “We come to you humbly to ask for your forgiveness. Know that we seek your guidance and though we are weak, we strive to stay on the straight and narrow path. Titus begs your forgiveness, as do I, for all our transgressions.”
Titus jerked his head up at the sound of his name. He’d never before heard his mother invoke his name in her prayers. He noticed that she’d been praying with her eyes shut. At that moment, she opened them again.
“Titus?”
“Yes?”
“Is there anything you want to add?”
He looked left, then right, then at her. “Like what?”
“Like asking for strength to sin no more, to resist temptation and to make amends to those you’ve harmed.”
“Oh yes, of course,” he said. He straightened his back. “Dear God of Israel, hear my prayer.” He remembered that line from the way Rabbi Moshe started his supplications. “Help me sin no more and if you can, Lord, please help my father commit no more transgressions.”
His mother tapped his left hand gently, as if approving his request.
Titus continued. “He’s a good man, really he is. I’m sure you know this already, but deep down he believes in you, too. Thank you for listening. Amen.”
“Amen. Very good,” said his mother as they both rose. “You got up very early today. Go take a nap.”
Titus did not argue. He felt the weight of the morning’s events start to drag him down. He trudged to his sleeping spot and laid down on his side. Whirling images began flooding his semi-consciousness. The sight of Donatus crumpled on the ground kept resurfacing in his mind, as did the unlikely scene of dancing lepers wearing Jewish garments.

Chapter 11

Titus awoke to the clip clop of horses and the heavy smoke of fire. The rays of sunlight glinted along the walls at an odd slant. He had slept longer than he’d planned. Sitting up, he noticed his mother had poured water on their fire and caused it to hiss and smolder. He glanced outside through the open door. The men were gone.
“Are you awake?” asked Leah. “It’s time to perform our duties at the Temple. Of all days, today is not one to be late.”
It was Friday and it would be a busy day at the temple. Passover was upon them and while Leah and Titus were not Jews, they certainly had learned many of the Jewish holidays and traditions.
Titus and his mother made their way to the Temple. His mother had surmised correctly. The road through the lower city was more crowded than usual, carts of goods and wares traveled in both directions. The city was humming.
The temple traffic in commerce was carefully controlled as always. Shop windows were already open with customers and merchants making deals. Roosters crowed and chickens clucked in baskets as their owners showed them off to prospective buyers. There were children, seemingly lost, everywhere.
When they arrived at Titus’ work station, Simon waited for them. “Greetings. I was wondering if you were coming today. The sun has been up for awhile now.”
Titus answered immediately. “It’s my fault, I overslept. I may have stayed up later than I thought last night.”
“I thought so,” said Simon. He glanced at Leah. “My mother’s inside already. She wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll go see her at once,” said Leah, securing her head covering and hurrying toward the kitchen.
When Leah was out of earshot, Simon smiled at his friend. “We’ve been asked to stay late today, maybe until this evening.”
Titus frowned. It wasn’t unheard of that the Temple guards would make such a request of them, but usually it had to do with extra cleaning and preparations for holy feasts. Today was only Friday.
“Asked by whom, and for what reason?” asked Titus.
“It’s Passover, remember? The Rabbi has guests from out of town and there’s likely to be prayer and ceremonial offerings all day and into the night.”
“Ah yes, the feast of the unleavened bread, how could I forget?” said Titus. “And to cook that bread they’ll need a fire burning continuously throughout the day and night, which means they’ll need plenty of wood and cleaning of the hearths day and night.”
“Precisely, my friend. Come, let’s get started.”
And so began the long day of hauling and stacking wood, of sweeping and cleaning ashes and burnt animal bones from the fireplaces in the Temple. Only three of the four fireplaces had been used by the time the sun was directly overhead. Titus and Simon had learned that the fourth and main altar was clean and ready to use but was reserved for the Saturday ceremonies.
Titus learned a lot more about the Temple when his mother came for him and Simon and took them through a doorway at the end of a long, high-ceilinged hallway. The entry was guarded by a Temple sentry who Titus expected would stop them. The guard instead glanced at Leah and merely nodded.
The entry was to a downward stairway lit on one side by burning torches. Small rectangular airways above each torch allowed the smoke to escape upward. Titus wondered whether this lower chamber was close to where the gold and money was stored, somewhere deep in the bowels of this cavernous building. He’d been to other rooms in the temple but they had all been on the first or second floor, never in the lower chambers. Titus and Simon followed Leah to a dimly-lit room where Simon’s mother sat next to four other women and two old men in a semi-circle on the floor. In front of them, stood Rabbi Moshe.
“Welcome, Titus and Simon. Leah, have a seat please,” said the Rabbi, motioning to a spot on the floor behind the other workers.
Leah and the young men nodded toward the rabbi and sat behind the others, facing the long-bearded holy man. Titus wondered whether they were being chastised or punished for something that they’d done wrong, though he could not imagine what that might be.
“Today is a special day as you might know. It is a joyous day,” said the rabbi glancing from one person to the other. “It is the first day of the celebration of the unleavened bread, otherwise known as Passover. But I have troubling news to share with you as well. And please do not disseminate this news any more than is absolutely necessary.” He paused when everyone seemed to sit up straighter.
“When our holy men preside over the offerings to our god, they do so in specially prepared garments, items that have special and ancient significance. This, you already know.” He paused again and cleared his throat when it seemed he choked up. “Earlier today, we learned through a centurion from the Tower of Antonia that the garments, which we stored there for safekeeping, have been stolen.”
There was a collective gasp. The women put their hands over their mouth as if their expression of shock was not permitted before the rabbi. Leah crossed her hands over her chest, fixing her eyes upon Titus with a coruscating look, then to the ground, then to the rabbi, then to the ground again. Titus fidgeted. He made sure she could not look him directly in the eyes but he could feel her look upon him.
Then, a heavy silence fell over the group. There were no sounds audible down in the lower chamber, no merchants trying to attract customers, no children running and screaming, not even people praying to their gods, only the crackle of the burning torches.
The rabbi continued. “You might be wondering why I’m sharing this bad news with you. Well, I do have a reason. First, you are my charges, so I wanted to tell you myself. Caiaphas and the others will inform their charges as well.
The talk on the streets is, the garments were stolen by three or four thieves masquerading as Jewish priests. They weren’t priests, of course, they were commoners, gentiles such as yourselves. That is what the Romans have told us. Now, rest assured. No one is blaming you. Quite the contrary, you have been loyal Temple workers for as long as I’ve known you. I tell you this information so that you might keep your ears and eyes open to any talk or place where we might find the garments.”
Then, he touched the robe he was wearing and ran his finger along the line of the gold lace trim down his chest, as if the garment bestowed some kind of celestial dignity upon him. He muttered almost as an afterthought. “Headdresses and robes are of little use to anyone outside the Temple.”
The rabbi gave the workers time to absorb the strange news, then bade them farewell. “Remember, you can come to me directly. You need not fear the Romans or the Temple guards.”
Titus, Simon and the women filed out of the room and up the stairs to the bright light of the main level of the Temple. Leah and Simon’s mother each hugged their son and headed back to the kitchen. Titus and Simon remained quiet as they were escorted by a guard back to the wood storage area where they began sweeping and cleaning floors.
Shortly after sunset, Leah appeared at Titus and Simon’s work area with a bowl in each hand. The aromatic smell of cooked fish quickly filled Titus’ nostrils. She smiled at both of the young men. “You both must be starving. Here, this is fish soup we made for Rabbi Moshe. He asked me specifically to bring you some.”
“Thank you, mother,” said Titus. A certain sense of guilt came over him, as he realized that earlier in the day he had helped to rob the same holy man who was looking after him.
“Yes, thank you, very much,” added Simon.
Just then, a commotion from the east gate caught their attention. In the remaining light of dusk, Titus could see a large group of legionnaires and a centurion surrounded by a yelling mob. The entire mass of people was moving steadily in their direction. Titus’ mind immediately reflected upon his conversation with his father and his lawless friends. Was this the commotion his father had said he would create? Had the general public found out about the missing garments?
“What do you see?” asked Leah looking at Simon, the tallest of the three.
“It appears the Roman soldiers have a prisoner and they’re bringing him to the Temple.”
“Oh my! I hope it isn’t someone we know,” she added.
As the mob moved closer to the east door of the temple grounds, Titus could make out the countenance of a familiar man. By the flickering light of the hand-held torches he saw the one called Jesus in the middle of the throng.
“It’s the Teacher, mother. They have him in restraints.”

Chapter 12

The mob stopped at the steps to the door of the Temple, but did not ascend. A centurion who appeared to be in charge addressed the temple guards. “Go. Bring your high priest here. We have a prisoner for him.”
Titus saw a confused look on the temple guards’ faces. They consulted with each other in muffled voices, then the oldest looking one, answered with two words. “Wait here!”
The elder guard hurried into the temple and in a few minutes returned, escorting Rabbi Annas. The holy man was not wearing the extravagant garments of ceremony. In fact, he looked to Titus as if the man had been taking a nap. His grey hair was pressed against the back of his head and the upper part of his robe was wrinkled.
As if drawn by some invisible force, Titus, Simon and Leah edged closer to the door, standing only a few strides away from the rabbi. They stared at Jesus who cast his look downward. His shoulders were slumped and he appeared defeated, on the verge of tears.
The rabbi lifted his right hand in the air and the crowd immediately fell silent. He studied the man from Nazareth, then spoke. “Who is this prisoner you have brought?”
The centurion pointed at Jesus. “This man has been spreading rumors of a rebellion. He says he is king of the Jews. That makes him one of yours, a prisoner of yours. We have orders to bring him to you.”
Rabbi Annas gave a slight nod. “I’m sure you do. We’ll take him from here. Now, please leave the temple grounds. We are beginning our holy celebrations and we do not wish to defile the dignity of the occasion.”
The Romans marched away but the mob remained as a murmur ran through the crowd. The temple guards held their spears at the ready, just in case anyone felt the need to storm the building.
Rabbi Annas walked into the temple foyer, the first room of the long temple building. The guards held Jesus by the arms as they walked him to spot within two paces in front of the rabbi. They forced the rebel leader to his knees. He raised his head and looked at the rabbi. Rabbi Annas raised his hand and showed his palm to the prisoner.
“Be silent. This is a matter of serious concern. I do not want to hear with my ears what should be heard by the entirety of the Sanhedrin.” He glanced at the temple guards. “Take him to a holding cell downstairs while I summon Caiaphas and the others.”
Jesus did as he was instructed. He remained silent.
The guards bowed and hurried Jesus down the side hallway and entered the same door Titus had used to descend to the basement. The rabbi looked around at the remaining temple workers. “This could be a long night. Go back to your duties.”
Leah took Titus by the hand and glanced at Simon and his mother. “We may be here all night. We should return to our stations.”
This was not good news for Titus. His father, Dimas and the men were counting on him to help rob the temple later in the night. Now, those plans would have to be revised dramatically. This man, Jesus, had created a better commotion than any chaos his father could have invented, but the timing was all wrong. The Jews were up in arms, but instead of being angry at the Romans for losing the garments, they were upset at a seditious rabble-rouser. The angry mob was not at the Tower of Antonia but at the Temple, the very place Dimas and his men wanted deserted.
When they returned to their work station, Titus was about to speak when he saw Simon put a finger to his lips. Titus glanced at the temple door which was only twenty paces away and noticed a temple guard staring at them. Everyone, it seemed, was nervous and afraid.
Titus nodded at his friend and began his chores. After cleaning the fireplaces of the ashes from the afternoon fires, Titus and Simon brought more wood into the temple storage area. Apart from some grunts and guttural sounds, they performed their work without speaking until it was almost midnight.
They were sitting on the wood pile and beginning to doze when they heard the rising voices of men approaching the temple entrance. Titus looked up and saw the high priest Caiaphas. He was surrounded by a horde of lesser priests and holy men. The group proceeded through the foyer and into the more expansive atrium.
Titus recognized a young man in the approaching crowd as a distant relative of Caiaphas. The young man seemed to be trying to persuade the girl servant who was the doorkeeper, to let his male friend into the temple. The girl looked at the male friend and asked, “You’re not one of Jesus’ disciples are you?”
The man tilted his head back slightly as if insulted. “I am not.”
Her eyes twinkled at the young Jew as she waved them in and the two men entered the temple.
Titus and Simon loaded their arms with firewood and walked quietly into the atrium. They set the wood down next to the fireplace which was already burning. During the day, this area of the temple was brightly lit by natural sunshine, but now it was dim and cold. The priests took their seats on the sides of the rectangular room except Caiaphas who sat at the far end of the room.
Titus and his friend awaited a signal from Caiaphas which they knew would be coming. Caiaphas barely raised a finger as he pointed at the unlit torches behind the stone benches where the assembly sat. Without hesitation, Titus and Simon lit the torches, illuminating the room a bright yellow as when evening ceremonies were occasionally held. They then tried to blend into the background, sitting on the floor behind the benches of the Sanhedrin.
“Bring me the prisoner!” ordered Caiaphas.
The temple guards must have known Caiaphas was going to issue such an order because within seconds, two guards brought Jesus into the atrium. The prisoner looked despondent. He was pushed down to his knees. A murmur ran through the assembled holy men.
“So you’re Jesus of Nazareth,” said Caiaphas. “I somehow imagined you would be taller. In any event, tell me why you’ve been going around teaching of a new kingdom when we have one here already. Oh, and tell me too, about these so-called miracles you have been performing.”
Titus leaned close to Simon and cupped his hand to silence his whisper. “It’s true.”
“What’s true?”
“That thing about miracles. I saw Jesus heal a leper,” answered Titus.
Simon raised his eyebrows and he grinned. Titus wasn’t sure whether Simon smiled because Titus had witnessed the miracle or simply because the falsehoods Caiaphas was alleging, were actually true.
“Why do you question me?” asked Jesus. He turned his head and looked at the surrounding members of the Sanhedrin. “I have spoken to the world publicly. I always taught in a synagogue and in the temple where all the Jews come together; and I spoke nothing in secret.”
Titus leaned into Simon again. “Now that part is not true,” he said in a hushed tone. “I heard him preaching out in the countryside.”
The Nazarene then straightened his back and took in a deep breath. “Question those who have heard what I spoke to them. See! They know what I said.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, Jesus was struck with the back hand of one of the nearby temple officers. Upon impact, he reeled sideways and almost fell over. His cheek began to swell.
“This is how you answer the chief priest?” asked the officer.
For all the splendor of his turban, cincture, vestments and scepter, Caiaphas seemed powerless in the face of this lowly teacher. “I have been told you claim your feasts replace Temple sacrifice because you are God’s own son. Is that true?”
“It is true,” answered Jesus.
“This is blasphemy! Take him to the Romans,” ordered Caiaphas.
The temple guards grabbed Jesus by the arms and jerked him up to his feet. Then Titus noticed something odd. Caiaphas and a few of the Jewish judges began to tear off their own garments, as if the denigrating words of Jesus still clung to their clothes. As the Sanhedrin erupted into a cacophony of insults and verbal abuse aimed at the prisoner, the Nazarene was pushed outside to a screaming mob.
Titus felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned and saw Rabbi Moshe standing behind him. He and Simon rose quickly and stood at attention.
“We were just curious, Rabbi Moshe. We did not mean to offend,” pleaded Titus.
“It’s quite alright, Titus. Listen to me.” He glanced back and forth from Titus to Simon. “I have spoken to the guards. I want you and Simon to accompany them to the governor’s palace. If it appears they have our ceremonial garments, I want you two to bring them here. Understand?”
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now. Here, I have prepared a written request for our property.” The rabbi handed him a rolled parchment tied with a white silk ribbon.
“If I may speak, Rabbi Moshe?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“You told us earlier today that the garments had been stolen. Have they been recovered?”
Rabbi Moshe wrung his hands. “I wish I could say with certainty that our holy vestments were found, but honestly, all I do know is that three burglars were caught tonight trying to enter the temple grounds. Let us pray that the Romans have apprehended the parties responsible for the loss of our garments.”
The news hit Titus hard in the stomach and he felt short of breath. Without a doubt one of the men who’d been caught was his father. He must have gotten impatient, thought Titus, and pushed ahead with his foolish plan to rob the temple.
“Go now,” ordered the rabbi waving them away.
Titus and Simon bowed to the rabbi and rushed out the main entrance to catch up to the screaming mob headed for the home of Pontius Pilate. Maybe his father would be there. Maybe he was still alive.

Chapter 13

Titus and Simon made their way to the front of the mob just as it reached the governor’s palace. The crowd had gotten worked up and they were calling for punishment of the man who claimed to be the Messiah. Titus was surprised when the Roman guards stepped aside to let the temple guards deliver the prisoner to them. However, the bigger surprise was when the Jews stopped at the gate to the palace. The predawn pink in the eastern sky was now visible and the chill in the air made Titus wonder why they weren’t going inside.
“Well, aren’t you going to bring him in?” asked the Roman guard.
One of the temple guards took step toward the Roman. “We cannot enter your grounds, lest we get defiled and not eat the Passover.”
The Roman stared at the Jew for a few seconds and grunted his displeasure. “Very well, remain here.”
Within moments, Pontius Pilate came outside flanked by a multitude of legionnaires and centurions. He studied the prisoner and directed his question at the temple guard. “What accusation do you bring against this man?”
“Well,” began the guard. It was clear he had not contemplated an interrogation by the Roman prefect upon him. “He is a wrongdoer. If he wasn’t, we would not have brought him to you.”
Pilate shook his head. “If you think he did something wrong, then take him and judge him according to your laws.” He glanced at the dark-skinned centurion standing at his side. A huge welt protruded from the side of the centurion's head.
“That makes perfect sense to me. What do you think, Donatus?”
“I fully agree, Master,” answered the centurion.
The ensuing silence was deafening. Titus wondered whether Pilate was waiting for Jesus to speak up or whether he was trying to formulate another question.
Finally, the Jewish temple guard spoke. “It is not lawful for us to kill anyone.”
“Is that right?” asked Pilate in a mocking tone for which he was well known. “Fine, then. Bring him inside,” he said to Donatus, pointing with his chin at the prisoner.
The Jewish part of the crowd remained in the courtyard as Titus and Simon tried their best to blend in with the group of Romans entering the palace gate. They were stopped immediately. Two soldiers drew their swords.
The closest one to Titus pointed the tip of his sword at Titus’ face. “Who are you and what is your business here?”
“I am Titus of Galilee and this is Simon. We came to pick up the holy vestments for the temple.” Titus felt his knees shaking. He could smell the garlic on the man’s breath.
“Who told you we have these vestments?”
“Rabbi Moshe. I mean . . . he was hoping that you had recovered them as we all know they were stolen yesterday.” Then as an afterthought, he added, “And you were successful in capturing the thieves.”
“So we were,” confirmed the soldier. Then he asked Titus a question that left him befuddled. “So how is it that your Jew friends cannot enter the palace grounds but you can. Are you exempt from your own laws?”
Simon tugged at Titus’ tunic. “Maybe we should go back now.”
“Your friend is right, boy. Go back and tell your rabbi we don’t have your garments, though I don’t know for sure,” said the soldier.
If the issue had been only the question of the vestments, Titus might have relented to Simon’s suggestion to leave. However, his father was likely in the building and Titus was determined to enter it. This might be the last time he’d see his father alive. His mind raced to invent an excuse or reason for entering the palace gate.
“I’m not a Jew,” he blurted. He nodded toward Simon. “Neither one of us is.”
“Is that right?” asked the soldier. He tapped a finger to the side of his temple. “Hey, Lucius, let’s do a little exam here,” he said to the second soldier. He lifted Simon’s tunic at the hem as if looking for a mark or hidden weapon. “What did you say was your name and your friend’s name?” he asked, looking at Titus.
“I am Titus of Galilee and my friend is Simon.”
“Alright, Titus of Galilee and Simon. I’ll let you into the palace if you show me in front of this crowd that you’re not Jewish.”
“How do you mean, show you?” asked Simon.
“You know what I’m talking about. Lift up your tunics and untie your undergarments. I want to see your manhood. All Jews are circumcised, right? If you’re telling the truth, then it will be quite obvious to everyone.”
Titus looked at Simon wondering whether Simon had been circumcised. Though the two of them had received religious training from the rabbi, Titus had never discussed religion with his best friend.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s get on with it,” barked the soldier.
The Jewish crowd fell silent waiting to see whether the boys would comply with the soldier’s request. Titus was first. He turned away from the crowd and faced the Roman soldiers. He lifted his tunic in the front then untied his undergarments. Simon copied Titus’ actions. The women in the crowd covered their eyes.
“Ooo wee! Would you look at that, Lucius? This boy is still intact, just the way he was on the day he was born.” The two soldiers laughed heartily before they regained their decorum. “And you, Simon, show us your wares.”
Beads of sweat had formed on Simon’s forehead. He looked at Titus as if pleading forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Titus. I should have told you. I was circumcised right after my family arrived here from Galilee.”
“I knew I smelled a Jew!” mocked the soldier. “Alright then, you can go inside, boy. Stay in the hallways and outside of the private rooms. Your friend Simon cannot set foot inside these walls.”
“Of course, I will do that. Thank you,” said Titus as he hurried through the palace gate, retying his undergarments and smoothing out the wrinkles in his tunic. Titus tapped the outside of his tunic on his chest. The rabbi’s document was still there.

Chapter 14

Titus listened for the loudest voices and walked toward them. He did as instructed by the soldier and remained in the corridors. He came to a large opening in an interior wall. He peered in and saw a rectangular room. Five stairs at one end led to a raised level where Pontius Pilate sat on a throne-like oversized chair. He was flanked by his usual set of guards and counselors. Jesus was kneeling before the Prefect. His hands were bound and he looked fatigued and saddened.
Pilate studied the Galilean Teacher. “So you’re the troublemaker we’ve been hearing about.”
If that was supposed to elicit a response, it didn’t work. Titus slid down against the wall of the door. A Roman soldier glanced at him but appeared not to care as much about Titus as the interrogation of Jesus. He turned his attention back to the Teacher.
“Are you king of the Jews?” asked Pilate. “What did you do to make your fellow Jews hate you so much?”
“My kingdom is not of this earth,” answered Jesus. His answer reminded Titus of his mothers observation when she said Jesus was going to an other-worldly place. “That is why my followers did not fight my deliverance to the Jews.”
“Oh, so you are a king?”
Jesus lifted his head and Titus thought he detected a mild shrug. “You say that I am a king.”
“Well, I don’t what the truth is,” said Pilate. “I do know that we caught three of your followers trying to incite a riot. They were spreading lies and seditious talk amongst the Jews and Gentiles about a new king in their midst and they even had holy garments to prove his existence. Do you know anything about that?”
Jesus shook his head.
Titus’ heart sank and he felt his breath become labored. Without a doubt, Pilate’s men had captured his father, as well as Gestas and Barabbas. Titus covered his face and began to weep. Seditious acts and rebellion were enough to receive the death penalty and Titus knew from his experience in Galilee, the Romans would show no mercy.
Just then, the Roman soldier who had seen Titus earlier strolled over to him. “What’s the matter with you?” When Titus didn’t answer, he added, “And what are you doing here?”
Titus rose to his feet and wiped the tears from his face with his forearm. He cleared his throat. “I am here to pick up the holy garments that were stolen and now retrieved.” He reached into this tunic and pulled out the parchment document from Rabbi Moshe. “These are my orders,” he said, handing the order to the soldier.
The soldier unrolled the document and stared at it. He seemed to study it for a few seconds as if he could not focus on the written words. Titus wondered whether the soldier was illiterate. Then the Roman looked at the wax seal of the rabbi at the bottom of the note and nodded.
“Very well, come with me,” ordered the soldier. Titus wanted to remain at his spot to listen to the rest of the interrogation but he knew it would not be possible. “Do you know that man in there?” asked the soldier as they walked down a dark corridor.
“I have seen him preaching in the countryside, but I don’t know him personally,” answered Titus. “What will they do to him?”
“My guess is, they’ll crucify him. That’s what they usually do to people like that.” The soldier stopped at the door to a small storage room.
When Titus walked in, he saw a lot of soldiers’ equipment, including swords, shields, spears, whips, body armor and helmets. In one corner of the room were Jewish-looking garments like he’d seen the holy priests wear. “Is that them?”
“Yeah, that’s all we collected down at the leper colony.” The soldier grinned. “You might want to share that bit of information with your Rabbi Moshe, I’ve heard how picky those Jews are about cleanliness and purification.”
“You are certainly right about that,” said Titus. He stacked the few garments as neatly as he could and with the soldier as his escort, he exited the palace. Simon waited for him outside.
“That’s it? That’s all the garments?” asked Simon.
“I’m afraid so,” said Titus. “We’ve lost the rest of them and I think I’m about to lose a father as well.”
Simon stopped in his tracks and stared at Titus completely bewildered.

Chapter 15

When Titus and Simon arrived back at the Temple, a guard was waiting for them. “The Rabbi awaits you. Come with me,” he said. He escorted them down to the same meeting room in the lower chamber where the rabbi had previously met with his workers. The rabbi’s eyes seemed to shine brighter when he saw the garments.
“I take it there were no more items recovered?”
Titus hung his head and muttered, “I’m sorry Rabbi.” He set the robes on a small table against one of the walls.
Titus’ mother came to him and hugged him. She cupped his face in her hands, then kissed his forehead. “We’re very proud you, son.” She then must have noticed the swollenness of his eyes. “Titus what’s wrong. You’ve been crying.”
Titus looked around at his fellow temple workers and at Rabbi Moshe. He glanced at Simon. What he was about to say would be news to his best friend as well. Everyone froze and waited for his answer. “It’s father and the men. They’ve been captured by the Romans.”
“Oh my!” she gasped. “How do you know this? Did you see him?”
“No, I didn’t see him but I heard Pontius Pilate say they had captured three thieves who were trying to incite a riot.” He shot a glance at the garments. “And that the Romans had recovered these holy vestments.”
The rabbi stood quietly as Leah comforted her son. He looked at Simon. “Did you hear the same thing Titus did?”
Simon’s face took on a crimson shade. “No, Rabbi, I was not allowed into the palace. They forced us to show them whether we were circumcised or not. And as you know, Sir, I am.”
A sudden realization settled in Titus’ mind. He had always thought that because he was the eldest of the two, Simon had been assigned to carry wood through the Nicanor Gate to the altars in the Hall of Priests and further into the Sanctuary. Now he knew that Simon had been selected because he had become a Jew in word and in deed.
“Yes, of course,” said the rabbi, stroking his beard as if in deep thought. “Titus, did you see or hear what was to become of the Galilean teacher?”
“I only heard parts of what was going on, Rabbi, as I was further into the building.”
“Further than what, son?”
“The balcony, Sir. As I was making small talk with the Roman soldier about what would happen to Jesus, I saw from the corner of my eye that Pilate jumped up and walked onto a balcony. It overlooked the courtyard where Simon and the accusers waited. I couldn’t really hear what Pilate was saying.”
The group turned its attention to Simon. His mother took one of his hands in hers and rubbed it softly to reassure him, no doubt, that he could speak freely and without fear. He answered their unasked question.
“Yes, I heard it all, said Simon. “Pilate addressed the crowd with Jesus kneeling to his side. He asked whether the crowd wanted the King of the Jews released or a criminal named Barabbas. I didn’t choose either one, but the crowd chanted Barabbas, Barabbas, Barabbas.”
Simon began to weep. He turned to his mother and said, “I don’t understand, mother. People said Barabbas is a known murderer.”
Simon’s mother wiped his tears with the end of her shawl.
Titus saw his mother’s concerned look and images of the dead legionnaire years ago in Galilee came rushing back. His father was a murderer too. With the torture practiced by the Romans, Titus was sure his father had confessed to his evil deeds.
“What happened next?” asked Rabbi Moshe.
Simon took a deep breath. “At that point, Pilate asked the crowd what he should do with the Galilean prisoner.”
“And?”
“And the crowd yelled, crucify him. And that’s about the time Titus came back outside with the garments in his arms.”
Just then, the same temple guard that had escorted Titus and Simon to this meeting place walked into the room. “Rabbi, we have received information that the Galilean Teacher is to be crucified within the hour. He’s been led out of the western gate of the city by Roman guards.”
“Oh, dear God!” said one of the workers.
The rabbi raised his right hand in the air as if to calm the fears of the men and women before him. “Do not become frightened. The force and might of the Romans cannot affect us and moreover, we cannot control what they do.”
Leah took a half step toward the rabbi and bowed slightly. “Rabbi Moshe, I am deeply ashamed to admit this but I have reason to believe my husband, Dimas, may be one of the men apprehended by the Romans. I would ask your leave, only to confirm my suspicions.”
“What makes you think he is one of the captured prisoners?” asked the rabbi raising an eyebrow.
“I know of the man called Barabbas. He is one of three who runs in the same circles as my husband.”
The rabbi did not answer immediately but when he did, his voice was soft and sympathetic. “Of course, you may leave but please, take Titus with you. He has proven he can think on his feet, if the need arises.”

Chapter 16

Immediately upon exiting the Temple grounds’ western gate, Titus and Leah ran into throngs of people in the street that led to Golgotha, the place of skulls. Titus took his mother by the hand and together, they snaked through the crowd until they reached the edge of the street.
Leah gasped and Titus flinched when they saw Jesus stumbling along the street with a wooden beam on his back that extended over his right shoulder. He was flanked by Roman soldiers who repeatedly struck him with a whip to keep him moving along. The flogging left deep cuts and wounds on every part of the man’s body. Someone had fashioned a crown of thorns and shoved it down upon the Teacher’s head, piercing the skin of his skull and forehead. Streams of fresh blood trickled down his face. Amazingly, the man did not cry out in pain, though his anguish was plain to see.
It was clear. Pilate had condemned the Galilean teacher to death by the cruelest method imaginable, by crucifixion. Titus knew Roman authorities enjoyed using the Jewish festivals to publicize their might and control over their subjects and crucifixion was on of their favorite methods. In fact, to mock the man, Titus noticed a sign nailed at one end of the beam that read INRI, Jesus, the Nazorean King of the Jews.
Titus searched for the male disciples that had been with the Galilean when he healed the leper but in the throngs of people, they were nowhere to be found. It made him wonder whether they had lost faith in the Galilean. For Titus, the Teacher had committed no crime. He did recall one time when Jesus had caused a stir, but the Teacher had spoken and acted only symbolically against the Temple, saying it would be replaced as part of Israel’s restoration.
Leah shrieked when Jesus fell onto the cobblestones with the heavy beam pounding him as it landed squarely on his spine. Titus tried not to stare but he could not look away. A force which Titus did not recognize pulled his vision in the direction of the condemned Jew.
One of the Roman soldiers whipped the fallen man several times but the wounded King of the Jews was too weak. He could barely stand on his own. A centurion who appeared to be charge strode toward Titus. For a moment, Titus thought the Roman might have recognized him from his visit to Pilate’s palace. Titus felt his heart hammer hard.
“You, come here,” ordered the guard.
Titus was about to step into the street in obeyance of the Roman’s order. However, as the Roman came closer, it became clear to Titus that the soldier was talking to a muscular, dark-skinned man standing behind Titus. The man was obviously a foreigner as he was wearing a short tunic that reached only above his knees and a strange off-white cape. The criss-cross lacing of his sandals extended almost up to his knees. The turbin on his head left no doubt in Titus mind that this stranger was from another land.
The Roman soldier displayed his whip prominently as if preparing to use it. “I said come here!”
The foreigner complied and stepped out of the crowd and into the street. When the Roman’s whip cracked in the air, the foreigner cringed, then gave a slight nod. He untied his cape and handed it to Titus before he approached the bloodied prisoner. Judging from the stranger’s silence, Titus surmised that the man spoke no local dialect, but no words were necessary. The Galilean Teacher was too beaten to carry the beam and the stranger would have to take his place.
The dark stranger lifted one end of the beam onto his shoulder and began a slow walk toward Golgotha. Jesus trailed immediately behind him.

Chapter 17

When they arrived at the Place of Skulls, it was the third hour and the sun was bright. Titus was saddened but not surprised to see his father and Gestas already on their crosses. Gestas, hung there and reviled Jesus, saying, “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us.”
Dimas, however, rebuked him, replying, “Have you no fear of God?” He panted as if running out of air. “You and I are subject to the same condemnation. And indeed, we’ve been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.”
No doubt Titus’ father had fallen prey to the tortures of his guilty conscience.
“Sure he has,” said Gestas. “He incited an insurrection.”
“No, Gestas, from what I know, he tried to give us hope of a new kingdom, that’s all.” Dimas raised his weary head and gazed upon the crucified Jew. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Titus was flabbergasted. He had no idea his father followed the teachings of Jesus. His mind returned to their conversation a few nights prior when Titus had tried to explain the Galilean’s teachings. This was a side of his father he’d never seen.
Then Jesus replied to Dimas, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
At that very moment, angry dark clouds began to form rapidly over the Kidron Valley and the city of Jerusalem. Titus looked up and saw the moon turn red and become covered with ashen spots. The wind began to whip as though a ghostly storm was imminent. Titus understood now why they called this place Golgotha, the place of skulls. Women screamed when a lightning bolt shot through the air and hit the ground only a few paces behind the cross upon which Jesus hung.
At one point, a dark-skinned Roman soldier must have pitied the Galilean teacher. He held a sponge on a stick, soaked in sour wine to the mouth of the crucified man. Titus looked closer and recognized the centurion. It was Marcus Donatus.
It was the middle of the afternoon in the ninth hour when Titus heard Jesus moan. It sounded more like a mournful prayer than the sound of a man in pain. Dimas and Gestas remained quiet with their heads hung low. Jesus strained to lift his head. Then, in a desperately human utterance, the crucified Galilean cried out,
“My God, My God, Why hast thou forsaken me?”
Just then, a long ray of light like a luminous path in the air descended from the heavens.
Titus glanced at his father. Even with his two legs having been broken by the soldiers, Dimas was still breathing.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 14.01.2012

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