his master’s instructions. He always did.
Lucius watched Malchus approach. “What took so long? It’s been an hour.”
Malchus said nothing and handed the money over to them. All three of the men reached for it, but Lucius snatched it away. Malchus related the high priest’s instructions. Lucius grinned at the threat of reprisal the Sanhedrin had tacked on to their deal. They started to leave.
“Wait! Why are there only three of you?” Malchus demanded. “Where is your centurion? Will he tell a different story?”
“Let him talk of angels and earthquakes. Let him tell the people an angel ripped the stone from its seal, and a dead man vanished from inside his burial linens? Doesn’t that sound insane to you?”
Malchus watched them leave. For the first time, he wondered if their report was actually true. Octavean already had the bribe money. Why would he continue to describe such unbelievable detail? Why did he say that the centurion might report miraculous events, but have no interest in bribery? Malchus decided he had to find this centurion. He followed the three soldiers, hoping they would lead him to their commander. Malchus knew he was taking a huge risk, but his need to learn the truth was stronger than his fear.
Chapter 8
Adas watched from behind the ground-sweeping tamarisk tree as the drama unfolded. The Hebrew men came and went. The women also came and went, but not before a man appeared who caused them to fall to the ground in shock, and then incredible joy. Adas wondered who the man could be. Then everyone was gone.
Adas waited, listening intently, but all was still. He sat down and ran the day’s events through his mind, trying to make sense of it. He tried to remember everything his nanny had taught him about the Hebrews. He heard something and peered through the tree leaves. A man stepped in front of the tomb. He turned and looked directly at Adas. Seeing the intensity of the man’s dark eyes, Adas instinctively moved his head back. He thought he was obscured by the dense foliage of the tree, but the stranger nodded once in greeting. A subtle upward curve to the corners of his mouth appeared. Adas saw welcome recognition in the stranger’s eyes. The centurion stared, mesmerized by the depth of kindness in his expression.
The man was not one of the two Galileans who had inspected the tomb. This man was clothed in a white tunic and robe which draped from his broad shoulders to his sandaled feet. His dark hair flowed back from his rugged features, revealing a close cropped beard. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Adas thought he looked familiar, but something was different. It was like meeting a sick man, then seeing him the next day, completely cured. Yet Adas had no doubt the mysterious man knew him. The recognition in his eyes was undeniable. This was the same man whose presence shocked the women so dramatically. Why he had returned?
Without taking his gaze from Adas’s face, the man nodded once more. Adas blinked and he was gone. Adas ran to the garden entrance and scanned the area, but no one was there. Hopefully, the man would return.
Adas went back in the garden and peeked into the tomb. It was still empty. He sat next to the rock that once sealed it and reviewed his options. Eventually, his thoughts circled back to Lucius’s cryptic words concerning their commanding officer. The legionary implied that their cohors commander, Centurion Valentius, had given orders that undermined Adas’s authority. Octavean was insubordinate. Roman law required severe punishment or execution for insubordination. However, the law is only as good as the willingness to enforce it.
Deeply troubled, Adas wished he could discuss these matters with his former commander, Centurion Cornelius. He pulled a letter from his knapsack which he received only a few days ago.
Cornelius wrote,
“I have to tell you about Claudius Flavius Januarius, the centurion I introduced you to in Capernaum. He sent his servant, Andreas, to tell me Claudius was ill and not expected to live. I went to bid him farewell. He told me the most amazing story about this same servant. Andreas’s entire family died during a plague and the boy had no one. Claudius hired him as a stable hand. He excelled and became Claudius’ personal aide. He depended on the young man more and more as the years went by. Then Andreas became deathly ill, even paralyzed. The doctors tried everything, but nothing worked. Then a great Hebrew prophet and healer came to Capernaum and Claudius heard of it. Claudius heard many stories of how this man, sent by God, could cure all illnesses. So Claudius sent his Jewish friends to ask if the healer would cure Andreas. Then he reconsidered since it is improper for a Jew to enter the home of a Gentile, so Claudius went to the healer and said, “I am not worthy for you to enter my home. Say the word, and my servant will be healed.” The Hebrew man praised my friend for his faith and said, “It is as you ask.” Claudius hurried home and Andreas was completely healed that same hour.
We talked as much as Claudius was able and he told me many stories about the healer, Yeshua. I stayed with Claudius until he died and asked Andreas if he wanted to work for me in Caesarea and he accepted. Since then, I have tried to learn as much as I can about the Hebrew God. They say Yeshua is his son, in human form. Before Claudius died, I begged him to let me find Yeshua. Claudius refused, saying it was his time to die and was not afraid. His peaceful acceptance of death is what caused me to be even more curious.
When you come to Caesarea again, we can discuss this in more detail. Andreas is doing quite well now. He is my chief horse trainer at the garrison, since I have no one to take your place. Actually, no one will ever take your place in my heart since you are a son to me. Dulcibella sends her love. She has no eyes for any other man except you. One of my officers, a man named Gnaeus Flavius Ovidis, presented himself recently without an invitation. I was prepared to expel him from the premises, but my spirited daughter sent him on his way. I don’t know what she told him, but he left hastily. He has since resigned his commission after the death of his father, and returned to Rome.
Dulcibella has kept busy since you left. She has me supervise her archery lessons. She studies her language lessons every day. She also studies with us when Philip, the evangelist, meets with us. She has learned as much as her mother could teach her about cooking and gardening. And most amazing to us, she has developed an acceptable skill with a sword. When she requested boxing lessons, we jokingly asked if she planned to enlist in my cohors as a bellatrix to fight along with my legionaries. She only gave us her sweet smile for an answer. Her little brothers enjoy being her sparring partners, and they have made a fun game of their “competitions.” I look forward to seeing you again, Adas, as does the whole family.
Yeshua had miraculously cured the servant of a Gentile and asked nothing in return. This was the same man who inspired Zacchaeus to change his life after one afternoon’s visit and motivated Demas to confess and turn himself in for execution. Adas realized why anxiety gripped his heart the day of the crucifixions. He had buried his knowledge of Yeshua in a pit of excuses. He told himself Yeshua was a common name, and the man to be crucified could not possibly be the same Yeshua who worked miracle after miracle. But a sickening surge of guilt swept over him. His participation in the crucifixion could never be rationalized.
Trying to relieve his guilt, Adas spoke Yeshua’s words aloud. “Father, forgive them.” It didn’t help. The terrible deed was done and could not be undone. If only he could step back in time, he thought, but he knew thinking this way was useless. Adas dropped a hand to his dagger.
“I knew you were innocent,” he thought to himself. “I killed you, anyway.”
A voice within his head answered, “I still forgive you.”
But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to share the physical pain Yeshua suffered even if it was only a semblance of his agony. Adas wanted a permanent reminder to never again execute an innocent man. He grasped his dagger
