soft blue. He held it up and slowly turned it between his fingers. The opalescent glow of the gem danced in the light. It seemed to be a magical thing. For a moment, Adas wanted to squeeze his hand shut, and never let go. He reluctantly handed the pearl to its owner.
“It is told,” said the old man, “that Cleopatra made a bet with Marc Antony that she could serve him a ten million sesterces dinner. She won the bet when she dropped a pearl earring in a glass of wine and drank it. This pearl is exceedingly beautiful and the rarest color. It is worth much, much more than Cleopatra’s earring. I told the rabbi I sold my entire fleet of ships and cargo, everything I owned, just to buy this pearl. That is how desperately I wanted it. Of course, I no longer had a means of support so I took the job of collecting the taxes here in Jericho. Collecting taxes is a miserable job, but I made a grand profit of it. I had again become a rich man. I thought my wealth would impress the rabbi.” He coughed and his face paled. Adas rose to get one of the servants.
“No. I am fine. Please stay.” He was obviously not fine, but Adas sat down. “When I showed the great rabbi the pearl, he barely glanced at it, a gem worth more than my own life. Instead, he said ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, sold everything he owned and bought it. The pearl is the kingdom of heaven.’ After talking with the rabbi, I promised to return four times over what I had overtaxed the people. I asked if I could travel with him.”
The old man took a sip of wine. “The rabbi said the job of collecting taxes is necessary and not evil, if done honestly. He said if I did the job with honor, then he would stay with me in my heart. I offered to sell the pearl and give the entire fortune to the poor. I was very surprised when he said to keep it, and that one day I would know what to do with it. He was right.”
The poor man’s face was growing pale. There was a bluish tint to his lips. His injuries were slowly killing him. He held out the pearl. “Here, take it. I want you to have it. The rabbi told me I would know what to do. This is it. You must take it.”
Too surprised to argue, Adas held out his hand. The old tax collector carefully placed the pearl in his palm. “Why would you give me this priceless treasure? You don’t know me. You haven’t even told me your name.”
“Zacchaeus. My name is Zacchaeus. You saved me from the robbers which is the last thing they expected you to do. The looks on their faces was almost worth the beating.” He tried to chuckle, but it only made him sputter. Adas knew the man was dying and decided to stay with Zacchaeus until he passed away.
“You are seriously injured, Zacchaeus. I think a broken rib has pierced your lung. I did not come to your aid in time.”
“Yes, you did. You have proved yourself worthy of this gift. It is because of you I will die in the comfort of my own home—not where the birds would pick my bones. I have had a long life. I do not fear death. The pearl is yours. Remember my story.” He closed his eyes. “I will rest now.”
Adas wondered if he should refuse the gift since he felt he had done nothing to deserve it. Then it occurred to him that no one truly deserved such a treasure, but could only accept it. “I don’t know what to say. I thank you, Zacchaeus, but mere words are so inadequate. I will always remember your story.” He held the pearl up to the light again, marveling at its shimmering loveliness. “The rabbi you spoke of—what was his name?”
“Yeshua. He fulfills the great prophesy foretold to us. He is the Messiah.”
The memory of that one sentence staggered Adas as if he’d been struck. Why had he not realized the great man who inspired Zacchaeus to embrace an honest life was this same man on the center cross? Adas peered into Yeshua’s face. “What have I done?” Again, he felt for the pouch around his neck. Zacchaeus gave him a priceless gem in remembrance of Yeshua, the man he had just executed.
Lucius saw the look of misery cross the centurion’s face and grinned with pleasure. With renewed confidence, he asked casually, “Do you still want me to break their legs for you, Centurion Longinus?” He again picked up the hammer.
Demas saw the soldier eyeing him. Terrible dread rose in his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, hoping he would black out before the crushing blow hit him. A soft puff of wind touched his body. He opened his eyes and sensed a fragrance he couldn’t identify. Demas remembered what Yeshua said to him just a few days ago.
“Demas, you have repented of your sins and God has forgiven you, but you must face the consequences of the law you broke and submit to the authorities.”
Demas was horrified. He thought confession alone would release him from his responsibilities. “Lord, they will crucify me. I will not be able to work in your ministry. Since John the Baptist is dead, shouldn’t I help spread your message?”
“They will crucify you. You will suffer for a short time, but then you will live forever with God. Do not worry. Others will spread my message. Your belief in me will be part of the message. I tell you this truthfully, when the worst comes, you will feel no pain. I will be with you. Do you believe this?”
“Yes, Lord, you will save me from the cross.”
“No, Demas, you will be crucified if you surrender yourself. King David committed adultery and murder. He repented and was forgiven by God, but the consequences of his sin remained. His first child with Bathsheba died. You have broken God’s commandment, ‘You shall not steal.’ You have, like David, repented and been forgiven, but the consequences of your deeds in this world still remain as they did for David. When you stole, you knew what the penalty would be. If you turn yourself in, when you face The Judgment, your penalty will already be paid and your sins forgiven. The choice is yours.”
As this memory played through Demas’s mind, the pain faded. There were two brief moments of vague pressure against his legs. His body slumped down the center beam of the cross, but he felt no discomfort. He heard the ropes around his wrists creak as they stretched under his full weight. He was aware of the nails driven through his hands, yet he felt no pain. There was only a sense of weightlessness. Demas looked about with an expression of joy and called out in Hebrew. Adas frowned in confusion at the statement, but it was sealed in his memory. Adas and his men stared in astonishment at how peacefully Demas accepted death.
Jamin cried out when he saw his brother was dead. An unbearable loneliness pressed upon him like a great weight. He dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands. Overcome with grief, Jamin failed to notice how calmly Demas died. He only knew his brother was dead. John the Baptist was dead. Yeshua of Nazareth was dead. Jamin couldn’t understand how their lives could end so disastrously, leaving him alone in a world of unending misery.
Chapter 5
Pontius Pilate, the fifth Roman prefect appointed to the Judean province, scanned the city from a window in Herod’s Palace. He watched with relief as the activity of life, once again, was ordinary. The sun, which had regained its familiar brilliance, was edging toward the west. The Roman sighed with sorrow and satisfaction. He regretted sending Yeshua to his death, but he had satisfied the Jewish Sanhedrin.
Pontius despised the complicated Jewish religion. He had caused riots by displaying the Roman standards overlooking Solomon’s Temple, and inside Herod’s Palace. Pilate had raided the Temple treasury to pay for improvements to the aqueduct system that brought water to Herod’s Palace, which brought the province to the brink of revolt. The governor turned his Roman soldiers loose on the protesters who were massacred. Every offensive act stirred up protests, costing Emperor Tiberius resources and manpower. Finally, Tiberius issued an ultimatum—one more riot and Pilate would be exiled.
Pontius
