The Angel and the Cross

by Sigmund Brouwer

  Yet there is only hope in death because death was defeated in the great victory.

  Had the Son not died on the cross to pay the price for all of human sins, then death truly would be the end. Then you would live your lives knowing everything would be taken by death.

  Because of the great victory, however, those of us on the other side of death – angels and humans in Our Father’s presence – can see so clearly what the great victory earned: Your eternal redemption, if you ask for it through the Son.

  The fallen angels know it, too, as does the Evil One. Because they lost so much to us in Our Father’s great victory, they will bitterly tell you what the battle was worth and how much it cost them.

  All of it hinged on the Son accepting death on the cross. His sacrifice was the greatest moment in human history.

  But trust me on this.

  When you cross over, when the journey that is you life on earth becomes a new journey beyond that life, you’ll want to hear about the joy of victory from me or from another angel, in the presence of Our Father. Because that will mean you are on our side, for eternity.

  The last thing you want when you leave life on earth is to hear about the sting of death’s defeat from a fallen angel.

  Truly, you don’t. Because that will mean you are among them. Forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I don’t suppose you can fly me to Jericho?” Quentin asked wistfully. I had appeared to him shortly after the Zealots had released him.

  We’d been walking in the heat, and I, too, had been wondering why I could not help speed along his journey.

  “This is your task. Not mine. We shall get to Jericho as any others would,” I said firmly. “On foot, by donkey, or hidden beneath blankets. And at this point, on foot looks like our only alternative. So keep walking.”

  Before I had joined Quentin outside the cave, Barabbas had waited to see if his daughter was serious before he released Quentin. Shel had not wavered in her determination, even in the face of her father’s considerable anger. Until Quentin returned with the sacred goblets – Shel had vowed – she would not take the antidote that she had hidden so carefully.

  Their argument and the delay had cost Quentin two of his precious twenty-four hours before the poison killed him. The difficult, lonely trek to Jericho from the Zealot’s cave – and back again, if Quentin managed to get the sacred goblets – would take up most of his remaining time.

  Yet, he was to walk. Why I was not allowed to quicken his travel was Our Father’s will, and I knew that patience would reveal the answer. I took joy in knowing I was serving Our Father by keeping the child company.

  “Like that,” Quentin said, interrupting my thoughts. “Your brow looks funny when you do that.”

  I would have to stop thinking so hard.

  “You have better things to worry about. Besides, angels don’t wrinkle over time,” I answered as I pulled him away from a boulder. “And watch your step. There’s a snake beneath that rock.”

  **

  As Barabbas had foreseen, Quentin did not reach Jericho until the first watch of the night. By then, the town gates were closed.

  Quentin carefully examined the thick walls of the gate.

  “How do we get through?” he asked.

  “We could always play trumpets for seven days,” I told him. “After all, this is Jericho.”

  He looked at me strangely.

  “It’s a small history joke,” I explained. “You would have to be a Jew to understand.”

  His face was wan. The optimism with which he had started the journey had been replaced by weariness. Still ahead of him was the return trip, if – as he worried – he was even able to get the sacred goblets.

  “Rest easy from your fears, child. It is my duty to ensure that you get the goblets.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t want the Jewish girl to die. Tell me she won’t, and then I shall rest easy.”

  I shook my head. “Angels do not know the future. Only Our Father, and even if angels knew, they still would not predict the future for the convenience of man.”

  Quentin had changed. Just days ago, it would have been only himself he cared about. Now, even as he faced his own death by poison, someone else was in his thoughts.

  I also hid a smile. Wait until he realized he had fallen in love with her.

  “However, I can tell you it is also my duty to make sure nothing interferes with your journey back to the Zealot’s cave. If you have the determination to get there in time, you will succeed.”

  Quentin straightened his shoulders.

  “Who could ask for more?” he said with a braveness he did not feel. “Do we hop over this gate, or walk right through?”

  “Right through would be just fine.” A crossbeam on the other side of the gate held it shut. Although it weighed more than three strong men could lift, we heard the beam gate slide to the ground with a gentle scrape.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “Push it open.”

  Quentin looked at me in disbelief. Each side of the gate required two guards to push it open or shut. Yet when he touched it, it swung open lightly, just enough for a teenaged boy and an angel to slip through.

  Once inside, he pushed it shut. I lifted the beam back into place. “No sense in alarming the sentries. The gate will be open for you on your return.”

  Quentin’s voice registered panic. “You won’t be with me in the palace?”

  “I am to be with you until you approach the palace walls, then no longer. I will leave you to make the necessary arrangements for your safety. You know where you father stores his treasure. Walk boldly to the goblets, then return immediately to the town gate. There, you will find a bundle of food and wineskin with enough water for the journey back to the caves.”

  The palace was now less than five minutes away.

  “It is strange,” Quentin said. “I do not feel as if I am betraying my father. It seems I should feel that way.”

  “The girl gave you little choice.”

  “Yet, I hate betrayal. Even now I am tempted to find Eli in the palace and ask him how he could have done what he did to me.”

  “The poison gives you little time now. You must hurry to the goblets, and then begin your return journey.”

  Our sandals slapped lightly in the darkness. “Yes,” Quentin answered softly, but his tone was tinged with steel. “Of course. I will deal with Eli later. If I return!”

  What plans did he have for Eli on his return later? I hoped the love he had begun to learn would overcome his thirst for revenge.

  Yet his determination reminded me it was easy to forget that Quentin was still a very young man. His character had much strength, though, and again I realized that Our Father in His infinite wisdom had not given the boy a task too great for his abilities.

  “Listen,” I said quickly, knowing my heart would miss the boy now that my task was nearly finished. “The palace gates will be open when you arrive, the guards asleep. Walk straight to your father’s storeroom. You will not be stopped. Then leave quickly.”

  Quentin’s trust had become so great that he did not question me. Instead, he simply nodded and strode forward.

  “Quentin,” I called gently. “We say goodbye here.”

  “You said you would be with me on the journey back!”

  “I said it was my duty to make sure nothing interfered. I cannot, however, walk with you.”

  “But it is dark! I may lose my way. And there are wild animals!”

  “Have no fear. A light will guide you. The animals will not harm you.”

  It was all I could say as I left him. I could not tell him that I feared it was our last time together in his lifetime on this earth.

  Ahead, there were locks and chains to be opened, and soldiers to be cast into dreamless sleep.

  There was also one whom I had to awaken.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Quentin returned to the cave less than half an hour after the early dawn sent streaks o
f pale rose across the morning clouds. By then, the light he had followed during the night had long disappeared. He was now close enough to the cave to recognize the landmarks around it.

  Two hours remained before the poison would take effect and kill him.

  Quentin should have been weary. Instead, he felt a wild triumph at returning in time. His battle had been won. He had returned with the sacred goblets. The impending slaughter of thousands of innocent Jews, which would have begun upon his death, would no longer happen.

  The triumph was tinged with sorrow. Soon to be free, he would have to face Eli when he returned to the palace. In exposing that traitor, he would commit an act of betrayal against the love he knew he still held for the old man.

  And what about Shel? Would he ever see her again? Would those haunting eyes ever again flash at him in sudden anger or delightful laughter?

  Those thoughts raced through his mind as a Zealot sentry appeared from behind a large boulder. The sentry grunted softly. “Many said you would not return.”

  Quentin merely gazed at him.

  The Zealot made a motion to relieve Quentin of the sack he carried upon his back.

  “No,” Quentin said stubbornly, even though the guard was easily twice his size. “I promised to bring these here. And I shall be the one to return them.”

  The sentry led him to the mouth of the cave, where another guard escorted him still farther inside.

  Accustomed to the brightness of the morning sun, Quentin had difficulty adjusting to the darkness of the cave. It wasn’t until he stood before Barabbas that he could see comfortably by torchlight.

  Beside the red-haired Zealot stood Amram and Shel.

  “You have the goblets,” Barabbas said flatly.

  Shel lowered her eyes as Quentin looked at her and nodded in response. He then pulled the goblets from the sack. Each one was bundled in cloth for protection. Quentin handed the first one to the red-haired Zealot.

  Harsh breathing was the only sound he made as Barabbas unwrapped the goblet and held it up to the dim light with a critical eye. Hardly larger than a normal cup, the goblet was made from pure, beaten gold. Its simple, breathtaking beauty managed to draw a smile from the Zealot.

  “And the other,” he demanded when he had finished examining the first.

  Quentin complied.

  Amram held the first goblet while Barabbas unwrapped the second. When Barabbas was satisfied, he said to the guard who had escorted Quentin, “Send for the sentry who followed this Roman boy. I wish to hear his report.”

  Amram’s eyes narrowed. “The boy was followed?”

  “Of course,” Barabbas said. “There is much more at stake here than the goblets, or even the life of my daughter.”

  “Such as?” Amram asked calmly.

  “Such as you and I and the other dozen Zealot leaders here. Should the Romans capture us, our entire cause would be destroyed.”

  Amram nodded thoughtfully.

  “I’m sorry,” Barabbas said to Amram. For a moment, it looked as if he meant it. “I do not mean disrespect, but you have grown much older than when you were a great leader. We younger ones must lead now, and carefully. Following the boy was a step you overlooked.”

  Quentin swung his head back and forth, watching as each man spoke.

  “I see,” Amram said without emotion. “You had the boy followed because-”

  “Because,” Barabbas said with sudden impatience, “should the boy have been discovered, he might have unwittingly led Roman pursuers back here. Or he might have gone straight to his father and suggested that he be followed back here. There is also the matter of his voluntary return. Perhaps he had come back to set this type of trap. Whatever the reason, I brilliantly ordered an armed sentry to follow. He had a specific command to deal with any problem of followers.”

  “By-” Amram prompted.

  “By killing the boy with sword or bow. He had orders to do so at the first sign of someone else with him. That way, the boy would never lead anyone here.”

  Quentin was stunned. He had been under a possible death sentence every step of his return? What if someone from the palace had noticed him and decided to follow?

  With him dead, Shel would have been doomed, too.

  Shel’s face grew tight as she too realized what the armed sentry had meant.

  Amram noticed. “Yet without the boy’s return, your daughter could have died.”

  Barabbas snorted and held out his closed fist. “Hardly. Had she been so stubborn as to not seek the antidote herself, I would have forced it down her throat.” He opened his hand to reveal two small tablets.

  Shel gasped.

  Barabbas spoke softly. “Yes. As a thief must return to his crime, I expected that you would look to make certain your pills were safe. After our argument, you were watched all of yesterday, until you finally did reassure yourself by looking at the pills. Then it was a simple matter of replacing them with other pills, and holding these myself.”

  Barabbas placed a pill in Shel’s hand and closed her fingers over it. “Please take it now,” he said. “The boy has returned with the goblets.”

  Shel set her jaw, then stooped quickly and placed the pill on the ground. She poised her heel over it, ready to crush it in a flash.

  “Not until he, too, receives the antidote.”

  Barabbas regarded his daughter gravely. “I may have deceived you. But it was for love. Now that the boy has kept faith, I am a man of honor.”

  He walked over to Quentin, who was still stunned at the events. “There is water behind you. Take this. Tomorrow, when all of us here have departed for our homes again, and your knowledge of this cave will pose no danger to us, you will be free to go.”

  After pressing the pill into the boy’s hand, Barabbas turned upon Amram. “And may our Lord be with your soul if releasing him cost us our future as Jews.”

  Amram smiled wanly as both children drank the water that washed the pills down their throats. He opened his mouth to speak, but a guard burst into their chamber.

  “We need you at the entrance!”

  “There is no need for such excitement,” Amram rebuked him.

  The guard’s eyes were white with fear. He gulped twice before finding his voice. “Roman soldiers, sir. At least a century of them. They are waiting outside.”

  Quentin imagined he saw satisfaction in Amram’s eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Impossible!” Barabbas hissed.

  Before anyone else in the chamber could react to the guard’s news, another Zealot stumbled in. Welts covered his arms and back; his shoulders drooped with exhaustion.

  “Barabbas!” he cried. “I have failed you!”

  “Impossible!” the red-haired Zealot hissed again. “You had instructions to slay the child.”

  “I was captured in the darkness,” the soldier said. “Somehow, they knew exactly where I was. They came from behind me and tied me down, then dragged me with them as they followed the boy back here.”

  “Impossible!” Barabbas roared in rage. As the last of his anger echoed around them, he swung toward Quentin and pinned the boy by his throat against the wall.

  “How did you know?” he demanded. “How did you know a sentry was watching you?”

  Amram stepped forward quickly and grasped Barabbas’s powerful forearm.

  “The boy cannot answer if he cannot breathe. Release him.”

  Slowly, sanity returned to Barabbas’s eyes. He eased the pressure on the boy’s throat. Quentin coughed painfully. It felt as if his windpipe had been crushed.

  The exhausted sentry interrupted. “They released me to deliver a message to you. All of our lives for the boy’s life. If we surrender and leave the boy unharmed, they will merely send us to prison. If the boy is harmed, his father vows to tear us to shreds, then destroy one village for each person he finds within the cave.”

  “We shall die!” Barabbas thundered. “No Zealot walks into the arms of the enemy.”

&n
bsp; “We shall not die,” Amram said with quiet, intense strength. “We are not without honor, and the boy does not deserve death. Furthermore, fighting to our own deaths should not mean the deaths of hundreds of innocent villagers. And finally, Barabbas, my friend, you have your own daughter to consider. We may suffer in prison, but she has a life ahead of her. Don’t take it away.”

  “What about our cause?” Barabbas said in anguish.

  “Minutes ago you apologized for my old age and your own youth. Do not be a fool and make me apologize for the same thing. Our cause will be destroyed with our deaths. It will survive if we take it to prison with us.”

  Barabbas nearly stuttered in frustration. “Yet we cannot simply give up!”

  Amram’s voice dropped, sounding very old and tired. “Saplings bend in the wind and survive. The oak tree stands straight and is torn from the ground. Barabbas, you must choose life. For all of us.”

  Barabbas closed his eyes. He wept with anger. “So it must be. Many times I have fought and killed Roman soldiers barehanded, and escaped. Today, I go before them meekly as a lamb. I curse the day we decided to kidnap the son of the legion commander.”

  “Take the girl’s hand,” Amram instructed Quentin quietly in the silence that followed. “Take her hand and walk calmly into the light so that your father sees you are alive. Leave her at the entrance, and return to your people. May the Lord have mercy upon all our souls.”

  **

  The sun had burned away the low haze of clouds. Its brightness etched sharp shadows behind every rock as Quentin picked his way to where his father and a hundred soldiers surveyed the entrance to the cave.

  A thought suddenly hit Quentin. I have stolen from my father, the man who has followed me back to this cave. How will he understand? The thought filled him with fear. Not a fear for his own wrongdoing - in his heart he knew he had not done wrong - but a fear for the disappointment that would surely be conveyed by his stern father.