from the centurion’s head. He cursed himself for his lack of resolve. He snatched his dagger from the ground and returned it to the sheath. He tried to tell himself a slashed throat would not be consistent with death by stoning. Valentius would know what he had done and have him executed.
Lucius sat cross-legged and stared at the unconscious man. If he could not take the centurion’s life, at least he would take everything else. Lucius knew most centurions wore an amulet of precious stone around their necks with the engraved name of their favorite god or goddess. Engraved crystals of sapphire, garnet, or ruby were highly prized. Lucius pulled on the front of Adas’s body armor and tunic, searching for a leather cord. There was none. Frustrated, he cursed aloud. Lucius looked at Adas’s seal ring on his bandaged right hand. The carved crest of the ring was an amber wolf’s head with the letters ACL above the head. Since the seal ring was used to stamp authorization on documents, the wolf’s head was the centurion’s official “signature.” Again, this item would be impossible to sell without being traced back to the centurion. Lucius detached the coin pouch all soldiers carried on their belts. He shook its contents into his hand. There were a few copper dupondii and a smooth green and blue nugget of eilat stone. He threw the items in the dirt. Wanting to exert some semblance of domination, Lucius got up and pulled on the front of Adas’s armor, slightly raising his head. Lucius pulled his fist back.
The unmistakable sliding sound of a sword leaving its scabbard gave Lucius pause. A sharp point pressed into the base of his neck. “If you hit him, I will split your back.” Lucius recognized the baritone voice immediately. The Roman lowered his fist, let go of the centurion’s armor and tried to straighten up. The point of the sword bit into his skin. “I will tell you when you can move, Octavean.”
“Malchus! What are you doing here? How dare you put a sword on me! You will be crucified for this.” He slowly moved his right hand toward his dagger.
“Touch that dagger and I’ll kill you. What happens to me will be irrelevant since you’ll be dead. Now put your hands on your head and face me. Now!”
Instead, Lucius whirled around, grabbed his dagger, and lashed out. In his drunkenness, he fell sideways on his knee. Malchus flicked his sword under the Roman’s chin, pressing just enough to break the skin. Malchus stepped around Lucius as he turned the blade, keeping it against his throat. He stood between Lucius and Adas with a view of the arched gate. Malchus pressed harder with the sword. Lucius sucked air between clenched teeth. The sharp metal stung.
“Drop the dagger.” Lucius spread his fingers out. The dagger dropped to the ground. “Now, get up. Put your left hand behind your back.” Malchus grasped Lucius’s left wrist and pulled up. “Now walk!” Lucius stepped forward, conscious of the increasing distance between himself and his weapons. Malchus pulled his sword away from Lucius’s throat but kept his left arm twisted behind him. He pushed hard as he released Lucius’s wrist. The legionary sprawled on the ground, but staggered to his feet and faced the temple guard.
Lucius wiped the back of his hand under his chin, smearing his blood. His face was crimson with rage. The veins in his neck protruded. His thick shoulders heaved as he panted, barely able to restrain himself. “I will have you arrested for this!”
“Do that! Caiaphas will explain to Pilate how Yeshua’s followers paid you to steal the body, and then you extorted bribes from the Sanhedrin by threatening to report that Yeshua miraculously resurrected. What a clever scheme to play both sides against the other, and double your profits. Do you think Pilate will believe Caiaphas or you?”
“Why don’t you kill the other two and take their share of the money!” Lucius said, trying to see over his shoulder. He wondered what was taking Falto and Hektor so long to return. He gestured at Adas. “Leave this one to me. If he lives, his testimony will get us all in trouble.”
“It is for his testimony I protect him. He is why I am here. You said, ‘Let him talk about angels and earthquakes.’ Why would he tell such a story if it was a lie, yet not demand a bribe? Most curious, I think. As for you, you’re drunk. I am not. I am armed. You are not. Leave now!”
Lucius knew retreat was his only option, especially since Falto and Hektor were nowhere in sight. Malchus stepped back and lowered his sword. Lucius grabbed his knapsack. He eyed his sword, but Malchus shook his head.
“This isn’t over! You will pay for this,” Lucius retreated along the garden path. At the gateway, he turned and shouted, “You want the centurion? You can have him! But some day, I’ll have you on a cross just like your precious Messiah!” Lucius stumbled out of the garden.
Malchus shook his head. “You ignorant fool. The teaching of that ‘precious Messiah’ is what stopped me from killing you.”
The moon had risen in the east even though the sun still hovered above the western horizon. Malchus knelt beside the unconscious Roman. “You’d better have some incredible answers or I have forfeited my life for nothing.” He saw the coin pouch and picked it up. He retrieved the eilat stone, and the coins, and dropped them in the pouch. He reattached the pouch to the centurion’s belt. Malchus heard footsteps and whirled around, sword in hand.
Jamin shouted, “We mean you no harm! I am Jamin and this is Cleopas. We’re here to help you with—him.”
“We have to hurry. The soldiers may return soon,” said Cleopas. “And when they do, they will not be happy.”
“We saw you hiding on the hilltop,” Jamin said. “Why are you here?”
“My name is Malchus and I came here to find this one,” He jerked his head at Adas. “I want to know what happened here today. The tomb is empty, and I think he knows why.”
“We want to talk with him as well,” said Jamin. “So let’s get him out of here.”
“Agreed. They will be shutting the city gates soon. The sun is almost set.” Malchus took his robe off and threw it over Adas, hiding his armor. “Be watching. The other two soldiers may come back.”
“I don’t think so,” said Cleopas. “They were really drunk and . . .”
“. . . and they’re resting right now,” interrupted Jamin.
Malchus looked from one to the other. “What did you do?”
“Nothing—much,” muttered Jamin.
Malchus grinned. “Come on, get his arms and I’ll get his legs.” They lifted Adas off the ground and started down the garden path.
“Where should we go?” asked Jamin. “I hope somewhere close. He’s heavier than he looks. Our friend, Peter, is staying nearby. Surely, they will allow us to bring this Gentile into the house under the circumstances.”
Malchus hesitated. “Do you mean Simon Peter, the fisherman?”
“Yes. You know him?”
“We’ve met. Perhaps it would be best if we go to my quarters instead. It’s not far, either. And there’s no one at the estate tonight.” They left the garden and hurried along the road.
Chapter 9
The temple guard led them to the estate of the high priest. Malchus lived in a small house in the back corner of the grounds. Jamin, Cleopas, and Malchus carried Adas into the limestone block house. It had a tile floor and two latticed windows too high to see through, but they could convey a breeze. The sparse furnishings
