The Making of the Lamb (12 page)

A renewed sense of awe struck Joseph as he pointed out the sights to his great-nephew. “No more than seventy years ago, this site was nothing but a small Celtic settlement. Now it is the center of commerce and Roman administration for all of Gaul. Trade from Britain and Germania passes through: wheat, wine, olive oil, and lumber.” The traffic through the city was not quite as bad as in Rome, where merchant carts had to be banned from the streets until nightfall, but it was getting there.

Joseph spotted something atop Fourviere, and his heart withered. A small group of men worked at the high point of the hill just outside the forum—a place of execution that could be seen for miles around. Workmen busy at that site could only mean an imminent crucifixion.

But Joseph said nothing of that to Jesus.

The baggage train crossed the bridge into Lugdunum and around the Fourviere to another bridge that took them to the warehouse district on the island. While one group of workers stabled the horses, another unloaded the carts and stowed Joseph’s goods in an available warehouse.

Dusk approached as Joseph led Jesus and Daniel back across the bridge to the commercial district at the foot of the Fourviere Hill. “There’s no telling how soon we’ll be able to hire a suitable boat to take us north on the Arar,” he said, “but there’s no need to retain the hired horses and carts any longer.”

Up close, Lugdunum was a foul, overcrowded place. Occasionally one could spot a rich person clutching rose petals to his nose to mask the stench of the open sewers. The poor lived in the overcrowded tenements that rose eight stories high. Joseph often heard news of fires breaking out in the top floor garrets where the poorest of the poor resorted to dangerous charcoal braziers to ward off the drafts and dampness from the leaky roofs.

Joseph and the boys soon settled into an inn. It offered nothing like the luxury of Septurius’s
dommus
, but it was clean. The food and wine were a welcome relief from the scant but overpriced offerings of the inns on the road north from Arelate, and they would sleep in real beds for the next few nights and have a room to themselves. So much nicer than the vermin-infested common sleeping rooms they had shared with all sorts of men on the road. Going through Valentia, a town halfway between Arelate and Lugdunum, they had stayed outside in the rain through the night because there was only one common sleeping area in the inn for both men and women, and Joseph was not about to allow that. A good number of the women loitering near the inns appeared to be professional.

Joseph joined in the smiles and laughter of his son and nephew over dinner. It was a relief to be in a decent establishment for a change. But he was still troubled by the workmen he had seen preparing for the crucifixion.

The innkeeper brought steaming bowls of mutton stew that gave off an aroma of thyme and rosemary.

Joseph lowered his voice and asked about the workmen.

The innkeeper nodded. “A notorious case, sir. Two slaves struck their master in an attempt to escape. The execution is set for tomorrow.”

“Have you ever seen a crucifixion, Jesus?” Joseph asked with a sad heart. He spoke in Aramaic in case of eavesdroppers.

Jesus responded in the same tongue. “Mother and Papa always told me not to look when we passed one. They said it would upset me too much.”

“You must have stolen a glance or two.” Daniel said. “Weren’t you curious?”

“Of course I was curious,” Jesus replied. “Sometimes I couldn’t help but hear the victims crying out in pain, but I never looked. I always remembered how Adam’s curiosity to taste the forbidden fruit brought pain and death into the world. So, no, I never looked.”

“Under our laws and customs you are now old enough to be a man,” said Joseph. “And it’s time for you to learn how the Romans can bring down their wrath when anyone offends them. You will come with me tomorrow and watch.”

“How can I disobey my parents?”

“They are not here. They entrusted your well-being to me, and the circumstances have changed. Jesus, you must now obey me in this.”

“Very well, Uncle. I am sure you know best,” Jesus replied. “But I do not understand. These men were slaves and they struck their master. Would not their punishment be death in any country?”

“Are you defending the Romans now?” Daniel asked of Jesus.

“This is different,” Jesus answered. “We’re not talking about pagan idols or taxes. These slaves are being put to death for rebelling against their master. Our people would have done the same thing even before the Romans came.”

“You’re wrong, Jesus,” said Joseph. “There’s more to it than just putting criminals to death. You will see tomorrow. Our people execute criminals, but never like this. The Romans don’t execute only murderers, traitors, and rebellious slaves.” Joseph looked directly into Jesus’s eyes. “They also kill those who offend or blaspheme their pagan gods, and even those they merely suspect of holding a rebellious spirit against the empire.”

Joseph exchanged knowing looks with his son. For the moment, Jesus was silent. Was the boy beginning to understand the danger his preaching could cause? Joseph could only hope so. He also hoped that what lay in store for Jesus to see on the morrow would drive the lesson home.

Despite that somber turn, Jesus seemed to lighten the mood as they finished eating. Soon the road-weary party made its way to their room where they slept soundly.

They rose early, but not at the first crack of dawn which was typically the rising time on the road. Joseph took the opportunity to assign readings to Jesus and Daniel from the scroll of Psalms that he carried with him—not that the boys lacked for religious learning. He did not want them wandering the city aimlessly.

Leaving them to their studies, Joseph went to the docks to check with the boatmen. Unfortunately, they were all out on river passages with none scheduled to return that day. This would cost him a day, but it could not be helped. He found the agent for the gentleman in Arelate who had rented the carts and horses, so at least that bill could be settled. He now had the rest of the day to deal with Jesus and would contact his merchant friends later that evening.

Daniel looked up, wide-eyed, when his father returned. “You’re back early, Papa.”

“Yes, we have some extra time, so let’s go refresh ourselves in the bathhouse.” He clapped Jesus on the shoulder.

As any good Jew would, they bypassed the pagan temple at the entrance to the bathhouse where the other patrons paid their obeisance. Nevertheless, Papa was compelled to point it out. “It is hard to keep our laws when we travel among the pagans. They decorate all their buildings with idolatrous statues and images, and you cannot avoid them if you want to carry on any business with the Romans. Even though both buildings bear pagan decorations, the one over there is the temple we should avoid. This, for all its trappings, is just a bathhouse.”

Daniel had seen this bathhouse and others like it during his travels with Papa across the Empire, but still he was awed by the magnificence of the arched spaces and the colorful mosaics. Even the furnaces that heated the water were marvels of engineering. This facility was available to all citizens of Rome passing through the city.

Jesus appeared unimpressed. “I see what you mean,” he said, once they entered the hot room. “It would be easy to think we’re in one of their temples, but it’s really nothing more than Septurius has in his home. This is just a big public facility on a much grander scale.”

Papa wandered off with another trader he happened to recognize through the steam, and Daniel turned his attention to his cousin, already relaxing under the hands of the masseur slave. Not wanting a massage himself, Daniel picked a spot on the side of the pool where he could relax in the warmth of the waters and still talk to Jesus.

Back in Arelate he said he saw himself as the savior of Israel. Does that mean he will claim David’s throne?

“Will you bring luxury such as this to Jerusalem when you take your kingdom?” Daniel posed the question in Aramaic so the slave would not understand.

“I do not know. I can only tell you that I must carry out my Father’s will. He favors the nation of Israel as his chosen people, but I don’t know whether that means our wealth and power in this world must rival that of the Romans. All this luxury makes the Romans soft. They see themselves as invincible, but I see all this being swept away. Remember how King Solomon fell from the grace of God when sinful luxury entranced him. That will not happen to me.”

“I wonder if you will be God’s instrument to destroy the Romans. They are not all bad. They swept the sea of pirates and they give merchants like Papa protection.”

“Israel will trade and prosper just as it did before the Romans. I am called to be God’s instrument to free God’s people and restore the house of David to its throne. It follows that the power of the Romans over our people must end, and Israel must be ready to pay a bloody price. I do not know what it will take to remove the Romans as a threat to Israel. The Messiah also is called in prophecy to be a light unto the gentiles, so maybe they too will see the way of God and live in peace with Israel before it is too late for them. If not, God will destroy them, and as his son I am prepared to be his instrument if he calls me to that task.” Jesus waved off the masseur and entered the hot pool.

His vision of his Messianic destiny was not so different from what he had described in Arelate, but his tone was more certain.
He is so graceful and gentle. How can this boy believe he can brush away the world’s greatest empire like dirt from his sandals? He’s right that Israel needs its freedom; Roman protection comes with too many chains.
Daniel recalled his vision that day in Nazareth that brought him to his knees at Jesus’s feet.
If Jesus is the Son of God as he has said, then anything is possible.

Papa summoned them to the cold pool. The quick dip in the cold water closed the pores of their skin and refreshed them. Outwardly, Daniel felt renewed, but inwardly he felt a growing sadness as the time came for them to begin the day’s business. It did not take long to dry off and dress. They left together and joined the gathering crowd.

The scourging took place sometimes in public and sometimes behind the army camp walls. Every stroke of those multiple thongs, each tipped with a metal hook and bound together into a single whip, would generate rivers of blood and rip flesh from bone. Inevitable death did not come easily at the hands of the Romans. He could not imagine what woe would betide the soldier who killed the victim before he suffered the cross.

Daniel had seen several crucifixions, but the sight of these two victims, already scourged and led out by the soldiers, shocked him. Blood streamed from their wounds, and they seemed eager for the death that would free them from their misery. The crowd jeered and taunted them.

Jesus had a look of cold determination to see the proceedings through, as Papa had commanded. Daniel remembered how Jesus, only the night before, had seemed to be at peace with the idea that rebellious slaves deserved death—but could Jesus really be the Son of God if he lacked compassion for fellow humans?

The soldiers forced the victims to hoist the crosspieces on their shoulders and carry them to the place of execution at the top of the Fourviere. The crowd followed, continuing to mock the condemned men. Slowly they moved. Whippings from the soldiers made the victims stumble. Clearly, the condemned would never make it up the hill encumbered with the weight of their crosses. Wanting to get on with their business, the officers conscripted two men to carry the crosses while the soldiers dragged the victims ahead. Daniel and Papa walked on either side of Jesus. They glanced frequently at Jesus, but Jesus did not flinch.

Finally, the procession reached the summit. Several soldiers held the prisoners’ arms outstretched along the crosspieces as another soldier drove massive nails through their wrists. Like many others, Daniel turned away, but Papa held Jesus’s head, forcing him to watch.

Daniel heard the sound of the hammer on the first nail, and Jesus screamed as if he were in mortal pain. No longer was he steeled to bear the sight. Jesus’s body shook and trembled. He went deathly pale and fainted in Papa’s arms.

Daniel ran to the soldiers’ pail of hyssop, and they let him dip a rag in it. When he returned, Papa was slapping Jesus’s face, trying to revive him. Quickly, Daniel shoved the rag over Jesus’s nose. The strong vapors of the herb quickly revived him, but then a look of sheer horror came over him. With unnatural strength, Jesus pushed Daniel away.

Daniel staggered and fell on his rump.

“Curse you and that filthy rag! What are you doing to me?” Jesus shouted.

Daniel tossed aside the rag. Why would it hold such terror for Jesus? “Papa, please. He’s seen enough.” It was no use.

Papa hefted Jesus up. “He must see this for his own good.”

Both victims had been nailed to the crosspieces. Their arms had been secured with ropes to bear just enough weight to prevent the nails from tearing through the flesh.

Once again, Papa forced Jesus to watch as the last nails were driven through their feet.

Jesus shuddered when the soldiers raised the crosses. He sobbed quietly.

For the crucified, the torment would drag on in a continuing cycle of pain. As the bodies sagged, the weight cut their breath, making them gag. Involuntarily, their legs straightened. This relieved the pressure on their chests, allowing them to breathe, but at the same time more waves of pain wracked their bodies as their full weight bore down on the rusty nails driven through their feet. When it looked as if one of them was about to drift into unconsciousness, the soldiers held up a sponge of hyssop liquor to revive him so he would continue to experience the agonies.
Jesus is right about these people. Not even barbarians are so cruel. They do things like this in their coliseums for sport too.

Daniel looked back and forth between the victims and Jesus. His cousin’s trembling increased. Jesus breathed—and almost gagged—in rhythm with the dying men. No longer a mere observer, Jesus seemed to share their torment.