by Bear, Robert
Bridget listened as the bard filled in more details about the mysterious outlander. Jesus was only a year, perhaps two, older than she was. He would not be like the matches that Papa would have me make. Those men are old and lecherous. She looked at the Dobunnian prince and grimaced. And this Jesus fellow certainly would be no bumpkin like that one. She looked across the table. Her father remained asleep. How can he sleep through such a tale?
While the bard moved on to another story, Bridget conjured in her mind a map of the precinct around Ynys Witrin. It lay near the Sabrina, not far from where she sat. She could go there as her father’s emissary. An unusual journey for a girl to take, but a Celtic noblewoman could rise to a more public role. In the absence of brothers, she might even reign in her own right someday. That would be more likely if she could prove her competence now.
How do I convince him to let me go? She pondered the question as the night wore on, and then, as everyone rose to retire for the night, the idea came to her. “You don’t need those men to help you back to that hut, Papa. I know you are very tired, but I can help you.”
“Humph. They will say King Aghamore is feeble and drunk if he needs a woman to carry him back from a night of feasting.”
“I did not say I would carry you, Papa.” The two of them laughed. “Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about—alone.”
The king dismissed his men.
“I was thinking, the whole purpose of this mission is to find a way for us to gain access to the Sabrina, so we can trade across the water with our kinsmen in Eire, but the Dobunni will be cut off to the west if we extend our lands across theirs.”
“Unless the Dobunni yield that land, we cannot control our trade to the sea.”
“I have thought of a way. Ynys Witrin and the area around it is a sacred precinct—neutral territory.”
“That neutrality is protected under the strictest edict of the druids,” he agreed.
“If the druids consent, our merchants could gain access to the Sabrina across that precinct without interfering with the Dobunni. If the Dobunni support our request, the others will go along. We avoid the war and still get what we need.”
He frowned, thinking this over.
“I can go to Ynys Witrin and talk to the druids, Papa. You stay here and get the Dobunni to help.”
“Let us send enough men so you will be noticed. The people must recognize your hand in securing the peace. They must gain faith in your wisdom, so they will trust you when I am no longer their king.”
“Oh, Papa, you have many years ahead of you.”
“I will not live forever. Go at dawn. Send me word as soon as you know what the druids have to say.”
Joseph
It fell to Mary to watch over Jesus. She had only one proper bed in her house, but for two weeks she had given it up for Jesus, who lay on it, beset by an awful fever. She was still at his side when Joseph walked in. The days were growing shorter, and dusk was falling.
“I brought some wood for the fire. We may need it if the night brings a chill. How is Jesus?”
Mary sighed and replaced the cold compress on her son’s forehead. “Thank you, Uncle. I have to cool his fever during the day, but we cannot let the room get too cold, either. Jesus lies still for hours, but when he thrashes about, he seems to be having a nightmare. I cannot make any sense of it. Sometimes he calls to me, and sometimes to you. Today he mumbled something about how no one would break his legs; then I could not understand anything else. He often cries out that he is forsaken.” Mary wept softly. “I have never seen him like this. Even as a baby, he was never ill. I’ve never seen him with a weeks-long fever. Do you think we might lose him?”
“I saw him like this only once, when we crossed Gaul on our way to Britain. The fever lasted only one night. I am convinced that the fever I saw then and what we are seeing now is not entirely of this world. I think God has a great purpose for Jesus. I cannot imagine that he has looked after Jesus and seen him this far, only to lose him to a fever. God will still look after him.”
“Oh, Joseph, you speak of the grand purpose that God has for Jesus and the reason he wants to keep him alive. I gave myself as the handmaiden of the Lord, and I am fully aware that God has a mighty purpose for his son. But right now all I care about is that Jesus recovers. I am simply a mother who wants her son to be well.”
Joseph watched Mary sob softly. Jesus will recover, and his ranting will begin to make more sense. She should not have to hear it that way. Perhaps it is better for me to tell her now, straight out. There is nothing more to keep from Jesus, anyway. Joseph closed his eyes. Please, God, help me find the way to tell her. Give me strength and wisdom. Finally, he broke the silence. “The more I have been with Jesus since I took him from Galilee, the more I am convinced that there is something truly divine within him. There is something within him that is unlike any other man.”
Mary looked up from Jesus and nodded.
“There is a mystery about him, hidden from you and me,” Joseph continued. “And I think it is, for the present, somewhat hidden still from Jesus himself, although he grows into that divine nature more and more as he also grows into manhood. I was not there as much as I should have been when Jesus fell ill, but Daniel stayed with him and told me what happened.”
“I saw in Nazareth how Daniel loves Jesus,” said Mary. “I am thankful that Daniel was there if you could not be, Uncle.”
“As we were crossing Gaul, I made Jesus watch the Romans carry out a crucifixion; I thought it was for his own good. I think that it awoke in Jesus something of the divine spark that he was not ready to handle. It caused him to be at war with his own spirit. He needed to find an answer before he could be at peace with himself. Daniel helped him find an answer, and the fever went away. Daniel told me about it, and I knew that the answer Jesus had was wrong. But I also knew Jesus was not ready for the truth, so I swore Daniel to secrecy. We have kept that secret from Jesus all these years, putting our faith in God to reveal it to Jesus when the time was right. Until now we have kept it from you, too.”
“What is this strange thing that was too terrible for us to know?”
“This is hard, Mary. I must tell it to you in my own way. I think it happened that night when God reshaped the Tor. God must have shown Jesus the truth, and it made Jesus despair. I know you think that what Jesus said about God’s anger came from the delirium of his fever, but what Jesus said to us right before he collapsed makes perfect sense to me. I believe Jesus is now at the crossroads of his life. He has started down a pathway that will lead him to death and pain, but it is not too late for him to turn back—not too late for him to turn back to life and happiness.”
“Why would Jesus be angry with his Father for leading him back to life?”
“Jesus believes that he is the Messiah. He thinks that he can defy the Romans and lead our people to freedom. I have seen him try to prepare himself for that destiny. It is everything to him. You must know this yourself.”
“I know is he skilled with the blade. Everyone tells me of his exploits at Rumps. They see him as a hero. He is, is he not?”
“He certainly is, but he thought he was indestructible. He thought that his Father would always protect him, no matter what. He thought that if the Romans tried to crucify him, everyone would see God literally lifting him off the cross. This would unite the Jewish people behind him and strike fear into the hearts of the Romans. That is what he saw through his fever back in Gaul.”
“But nothing is impossible for God, Joseph. That is what the archangel told me when he said I was to give birth as a virgin, and he was right. If God wants Jesus to be the Messiah for our people, he will protect him, even on the cross.”
“No, Mary, that is not what is prophesied. I have studied the Scripture all my life, and I tell you this. If the Romans put Jesus on the cross of crucifixion, he will die there.”
Mary turned deathly pale.
Joseph clutched her hand to reassure her bef
ore she started breaking down. “Hold on, Mary. There is another way. Jesus can be a different type of Messiah. He can teach our people the pathway of peace. Surely, the Romans will have no quarrel with that.”
“Why do you think the fever besets him now?”
“I believe his Father revealed to Jesus his error. It is not easy for him to accept that his destiny will lead him to crucifixion and death. He is angry because when he turns from the path of a freedom fighter, he gives up everything he has lived for. He will not rest until he finds an answer that satisfies both his divine spark and his human nature. The fever has returned because the answer he thought he had is false, and it will not leave him until he has a better one. Until then he will not get better—but neither do I expect he will die, for God still has a great purpose for him, and it is neither to die here in Britain on a sickbed nor to die on a cross.”
Mary turned to Jesus and sighed. “What can we do for him?”
“What you have done. Try to make him comfortable while the fever remains. We must be ready to help Jesus make the right choice when the time comes. We must help him listen to his Father and accept his will.”
Daniel
Distraught as everyone was over Jesus’s condition, someone needed to attend to the mine, so Daniel returned to the Mendips. He hired Caden, a bright, pleasant young man perhaps two or three years older than himself. At the end of Caden’s first day, Daniel noticed that his ore pile was significantly higher than those of the others. Funny, he didn’t seem to be working that hard. I am glad I didn’t chastise him for goofing off, as I was about to do. Maybe the work just comes easy to him because he is so strong. Caden was indeed very muscular. There was something odd about him, though. While everyone else was soaked with sweat and covered in grime, Caden finished the day dry and clean.
The next day, Daniel puzzled over this new worker. Not that there was anything to complain about, for Caden took the same daily wage as the others and again produced the biggest pile of ore. Every time he had crawled over to Caden through the shafts, Daniel had seen him swinging his axe; but he still felt suspicious that somehow Caden was only managing not to get caught in idleness. I wonder what he does as soon as I turn my back?
At the end of the day, Daniel looked at the exhaustion on the faces of the men. He wiped the grimy sweat from his own brow. Once again Caden, clean and lively, offered the biggest pile of ore.
Daniel took a sample from Caden’s pile. The rock was richly veined with gray, the telltale sign of silver. “Your ore is not just plentiful, but it is the richest of anyone’s. I don’t know how you do it and stay so clean, but that is good work.”
Caden smiled.
“Are you going home to your family tonight?”
“I am just traveling through. My family is far away on the other side of Britain. I am staying with distant cousins of mine at the mouth of the Axe.”
“That’s a long walk. Why don’t you stay here? I could use some company for dinner. Usually my younger cousin is with me, but he is sick back on Ynys Witrin. So I’ve eaten alone for several weeks. Hardly anyone lives around here; Priddy is scarcely a village.”
“That’s very gracious of you, sir.”
“You don’t have to call me that. Work is done for the day.”
Daniel enjoyed his evening in Caden’s company. Caden was an eager listener, and Daniel delighted in telling him of his adventures in Britain, particularly all about Rumps. Caden listened as if he had never heard any of it.
As he went to sleep, it occurred to Daniel that Caden had not mentioned much about himself. No matter. Perhaps he should offer Caden a higher wage to make sure he stayed on. The quantity and quality of his production certainly justified it.
Joseph
The poor horse slogged its way across the wetland, carrying Joseph back to Ynys Witrin from the mine near Priddy. Another week had passed, with Jesus still feverish in Mary’s bed. The operation of the mining venture had returned to normal—nothing seemed amiss. In the long term, Jesus’s help was critical if they were to continue to replenish the ore loads with new finds, but the current lode near Priddy was continuing to yield silver, and there was no sign of imminent depletion. Daniel could manage the daily mining activity well enough on his own.
Nonetheless, Joseph felt a sense of foreboding.
Kendrick would soon bring his new ship to Ynys Witrin to take the season’s production to market in Armorica. After so many years, Joseph trusted the sea captain’s business acumen as well as his integrity. If Jesus had not recovered by then, Joseph would stay and have Kendrick handle the transport and sale. It would not be the first time.
A gentle rain began to fall. Though Ynys Witrin was only a few miles ahead, Joseph would be soaked by the time he got there, and that would expose him even more to the nighttime chill. Hopefully, the muck around the horse’s hooves would not get much wetter before he reached the house; otherwise, he would have to dismount and lead the beast.
Elsigar was not an immediate problem, but he could soon become one. The archdruid was not happy about the reshaping of the Tor. It was one of the most sacred places for the druids—the gateway to their otherworld—and it was not to be trifled with. Elsigar was still demanding to speak to Jesus. He would want to know whether the young man had practiced magic on that fateful night. If he thought it to be so, there was no telling what retribution he would demand.
Joseph had gained some time by pointing out from the writings of Isaiah that divine power, not magic, could reshape the physical world, raising up the valleys and laying low the mountains. Surprisingly, the pagan listened, at least to the point of staying his hand for a time. Joseph knew that the druids told of their gods’ involvement in the reshaping of hills and valleys.
“I have learned to respect the power of your god,” the archdruid had told Joseph. “But I must be sure that this is the working of a god and not some conjurer’s trick. I worry that Jesus seems to be growing in whatever powers he has. That could soon surpass the power of any druid to control him. He seems to live under the protection of your god, and that could be dangerous.”
The ground turned more solid as they emerged from wetland onto pasture, making the way easier for the horse. Through the gathering dusk, Joseph made out the smoke from Mary’s hearth rising through the thatch. The warmth of the fire would soon comfort his bones, but it would not still the anxiety in his heart. The progression of Jesus’s fever had been maddening to watch. Jesus is at the crossroads of his life, he is at war with his divine spirit, and everything is uncertain. That is what brings on this fever, just as it did in Gaul. He can live a long, happy, prosperous life, but not if he continues on the path that leads to pain and death on a cross.
Mary looked up from her son as her uncle entered. “He is much better today. The fever seems to have broken. He rests comfortably for the first time in many weeks.”
“We can give thanks to God for that, but let us not raise our hopes yet. He has improved before, only to relapse.”
The rain stopped, and Mary stepped outside to refresh herself in the cool night air.
A few moments later, Jesus stirred. “Is that you, Uncle? I feel so weak.”
“I am here, Jesus. Your mother is taking a walk. She has been looking after you for many weeks. You have had a raging fever.” Joseph felt Jesus’s forehead. “You still have the fever, but you are no longer burning up. Do you remember anything that happened?”
“I remember the night on the Tor. Oh! Father and I, we were so angry. I remember what he said and what he showed me. The last thing I remember is coming down from the Tor and collapsing into mother’s arms, but my head is filled with so many visions—from Jerusalem, of my future—of my own death.”
“Your fever was bad. You have had nightmares—”
“They were prophetic visions, Uncle. They were real. I know they were.”
“Did your Father tell you what he wants from you?”
“You were right. He does not want me to be a he
roic king like David. I am not to be the instrument to free our people. It will not come in my lifetime, Uncle, but our people will rebel against Rome, and the Romans will destroy the temple.”
“What? Impossible.” The boy is surely mad. Yet Joseph remembered Jesus’s destruction of his model temple as Daniel had described the day he brought Mary to Ynys Witrin.
“I’ve seen it, Uncle. When the Jews rebel again, the Romans will drive them from Jerusalem, just as in the days of King Zedekiah. Rebellion against Rome will not save our people.”
Joseph sighed. Yes, the temple had been destroyed once, so it could happen again. “So God wants you to give up the sword and turn your life to peace.”
“That is what he wants. You were right about that. I just cannot do it.”
“Jesus, I know you expected to lead our people in the fight for their freedom, to be a king like your ancestor David. You expected to become the greatest king our people have ever known. But if you renounce the sword and turn toward peace, the Romans will have no quarrel with you. They will have no reason to crucify you. You can have a long and prosperous life. Perhaps you can lead our people on the same path and avoid this disastrous rebellion you speak of.”
Jesus erupted in peals of wild laughter.
What is wrong with him? It must be the fever.
“Oh, Uncle Joseph, you have been right all these years, but also so very wrong. You were right about what my Father wants from me. He does want me to put away the sword, just as you have said.”
“Your Father loves you. He is protecting you. He knows what the Romans will do to you if you turn against them.”
“Protecting me? Really?”
“Don’t you see it now, how your path will lead to pain and death on the cross?”
“That’s where you are wrong, Uncle. The path of obedience is the one that will lead me there. He begat me not to be a fighter king like David. I am to be the sacrificial lamb of his new covenant.”
