The Making of the Lamb (17 page)

He dreamed of a one-room circular house of a native Celt couple. The walls seemed to be made of some sort of crude plaster. The doorway and walls were decorated with all kinds of pagan idols, some of them evidently having been molded into the plaster of the wall itself when it was wet.

In his dream, a woman stood over the bed of a boy who appeared to be about eight years old. She cried as she felt the boy’s forehead. The doorway to the house opened, and her husband entered. Jesus could see his face clearly; a lonely tear glistened on his cheek. The two of them talked in low voices to avoid waking their son. They spoke in their native Celt language, which Jesus had never heard before. After listening to a few sentences, he understood everything clearly.

“So, you are leaving,” the woman in the dream said to her husband. “Rushwig will die of the fever before you return. This seems to be the same as the one that took his brothers, and I am too old to bear you more sons.”

“Goodwife, mind your tears. Rushwig’s fate is in the hands of the gods, and they may spare him yet. You know how to take care of him much better than I do. But I must go. Our stores that took us through the winter are almost gone, and we need money to keep from starving.”

“I cannot bear to lose our last son with you gone,” said the wife. “I cannot bear the thought of watching over his dead body alone.”

“All of us may starve if I don’t get some money,” replied the husband. “Be strong, Glaida. You know I would give up anything for Rushwig or you, and you know that whatever happens, I will take no other wife.”

The husband turned and left quickly. The woman once again cried over her son. Then she picked up a sharp knife and rubbed the blade gently across her wrist. She did not draw blood, but she seemed to be preparing for the worst. She turned her attention back to her son and gently stroked his hair. The fever still burned, but the son yet lived.

Jesus woke suddenly as a random wave crashed over the ship. He prayed for God to save Rushwig and to forgive the idolatry that surrounded him. Somehow, Jesus knew that his prayer was answered, and he fell back into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Someone must have warned the Dumnonii villagers, for the raid had not started well. Too many of their warriors were lying in wait. Empty-handed though he was, Dumrac the pirate felt lucky to make it back to his ship with his life, his freedom, and his band intact.

They were halfway back to their home on the Isle of Vectis when they spotted the prize. Dumrac could not believe his good fortune. An Armorican merchant ship, evidently blown off course by the storm. The trade goods would not be worth much—some blankets and pottery perhaps. But the people on board should fetch a decent price, more if they could be sold to the Romans.

The merchant vessel never had a chance. The two vessels had come upon each other suddenly as they steered around a rocky headland in opposite directions. Dumrac’s vessel had a deep keel and a large fore-and-aft lateen sail. It could easily outdistance the merchant ship, particularly as the quarry tried to turn back upwind to get away. With its lug rig, the merchant ship could not sail into the wind nearly as well as the lateen-rigged pirate ship. The merchantmen knew better than to put up a fight. Soon Dumrac had the merchant vessel in tow with its crew and passengers in chains.

Dumrac sized up his captives. Too bad they were not Dumnonii. Slaves from Britain would have fetched a good price from the Romans. The captain appeared to be from Armorica, and the Romans never bought slaves from their own provinces. The passengers appeared well-to-do. Perhaps a hefty ransom could be negotiated with the family. If not, the young passenger and the two crew members could be sold in the hillfort market as laborers; they would fetch the best price. The others had a few good years of labor left in them, too.

Dumrac ordered the captives transferred to his own vessel, and he took stock of the captive cargo. He was amazed. It was no small prize of a poor Armorican trader, but a small fortune of fine wine, olive oil, spices, linen, and pottery. And then as they began moving the casks, they came upon another passenger fast asleep. Dumrac couldn’t believe that the lad, a boy of maybe thirteen years, had managed to sleep through the capture. Then again, the merchant vessel was unarmed and hadn’t really offered much resistance.

One of his band roughly kicked the boy to wake him up. The slave chains were on board the pirate vessel, but the boy was a thin and frail thing who clearly wasn’t about to pose any kind of threat.

Dumrac laughed as the boy rubbed the sleep from his eyes and observed his unfortunate situation. But then the boy’s eyes grew wide. “You!”

“So, who are you?” asked Dumrac with a laugh.

“I am Jesus Bar Joseph from Nazareth in Galilee,” he replied, in the pirate’s own tongue.

“Well, then, Mr. Jesus Bar Joseph,” said Dumrac with a mock bow as his companions laughed louder. “My name is Dumrac, and we are honored that you come to us from such a distance. I am sorry we have no proper slave chain for you at the moment, but we will fix that as soon as we get you aboard my ship with the others.”

“I know who you are,” said Jesus. “You have a wife named Glaida and a son named Rushwig.”

Dumrac was shocked into silence.
How can this boy know such things? But maybe he hadn’t been asleep after all. The men well know the names of my wife and child; the boy must have overheard them speak the names earlier.
Dumrac sent his men back to the pirate ship as he grabbed Jesus.

“Let me go! You’ll be sorry if you don’t.”

Dumrac laughed.

“Rushwig is gravely ill,” Jesus whispered. “But God, who watches over me, keeps him alive. If you keep us as slaves God will see to it that your son dies, and then your wife will kill herself in her grief. You must give back the vessel and the cargo if you want them to live.”

Dumrac gasped as if struck by a dagger. He had no explanation this time. Rushwig’s illness was a closely guarded secret between him and his wife. Dumrac was a proud man, and he didn’t want it known in his village that he could very well die childless. None of his men knew of the illness; he was sure of that.

“How do you know this?”

“God revealed it to me in a dream. You know you can’t explain it otherwise.”

“I must see that Rushwig is well.”

“Very well, take us back with you. But you must leave me free to care for the others. When you see that Rushwig is well, you must release us, together with our ship and cargo.”

So Dumrac allowed Jesus the run of the ship as he made his way back to his base on the eastern side of Vectis. Dumrac explained to his companions that it was easier to let Jesus take care of the captives than do it themselves, and it wasn’t as if the frail thin boy posed a threat or had any means of escape.

As he sat in his chains, Joseph was amazed once again that Jesus understood the Celtic language. He might have learned a few words from Kendrick’s sons, but surely not enough for Jesus to speak as fluently as he did, and with the accent and idioms of the British dialect.

Jesus did his best to reassure them that the pirates would release them all, together with the ship and its cargo, at the next stop on the island.

Joseph hung his head in disbelief.

“I told you, Papa,” Daniel said. “I saw the divinity in him that day back in Nazareth.”

The two ships entered Dumrac’s lair through a narrow channel into a well-hidden swampy area. The pirate said it was called Bembont. The channel branched into several directions amid low-lying hills, offering a choice of hiding places. The native houses were concealed in a dry hollow at the foot of a hill that provided a convenient lookout for any threat from land or sea.

Just before their arrival, Dumrac grabbed Jesus by the arm. “I’ll keep you as my own share of the booty, to avoid the necessity of putting you in chains with the others.”

Uncle Joseph’s party set foot on Britain not as traders but as captive slaves. As they made their way into the channel, Glaida waved happily to her husband.

Jesus sensed that Dumrac was stalling on his promise to release them all. Yet he said nothing as the others were secured in a latched-covered dugout hole for the night. He followed Dumrac and Glaida to their home.

Inside, Rushwig rested in bed. “Papa!” The boy embraced Dumrac.

The man put his hand on the boy’s head. “No sign of fever?”

“None,” Glaida said. “It cleared up yesterday.”

Dumrac looked at Jesus, who nodded. Dumrac grabbed him and pulled him outside. “I cannot release the ship, its cargo, the others. It’s too valuable of a prize. And it’s not all mine to give away. My companions would turn on me.”

“But—”

“Look, boy. I promise I’ll never sell you or put you to any hard labor. All you have to do is be a companion for Rushwig. Surely, your god will see that as a fair exchange for the life of my boy, won’t he?”

Jesus crouched against the wall when they returned inside. He said nothing until the family had finished their meal. “Do you wish to hear a story?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” piped up Rushwig.

Once again, Jesus related how God had brought his people out of bondage in Egypt. He got to the part where the boy prince of Egypt died after his father Pharaoh went back on his promise to free the people of Israel.

Rushwig put his hand to his temple. “Mama, my head hurts.”

Within the hour, he was back in bed wracked with fever.

“I think God has answered your question about whether keeping me in a milder form of slavery is a fair exchange for the life of your son,” Jesus said.

Dumrac glared at him, then glanced over to Glaida.

Jesus looked, too. The tears in her eyes were plain to see. He turned back to Dumrac. “I would never wish anything to harm your wife and son, but this is the work of my God, not me. You must let us go if you want them to live.”

Without another word, Dumrac led Jesus out of the house and down to the dug-out hole. Fortunately, Dumrac’s companions were still carousing and drinking mead to celebrate the capture. They couldn’t hear Dumrac unlatch the heavy grate cover and swing it open, nor could they see the merchant vessel glide down the channel with all its cargo and crew. Just as they were about to pull out of range, Jesus fetched a bag of precious spice from the hold and tossed it to Dumrac on shore. “Sell this to feed your family,” he said.

As Kendrick’s ship set sail to the west, all aboard gave thanks in their own way for their deliverance.

“Are we out of danger?” Joseph asked.

“We will be sailing past the land of the Durotriges,” Kendrick replied. “They are a fierce and warlike people. In the days before Julius Caesar, their trading post at Yengi was the gateway to Britain. All that trade now goes to the east, and they resent any traders they encounter. We will find no welcome on their shores, but we can stay out of danger by keeping out to sea. Another eighty miles to the west, we will come to the land of the Dumnonii, who will welcome us anywhere further down the coast where we might need refuge.”

Joseph turned to Jesus. “I am so sorry for bringing you this way. Your parents entrusted me with keeping you safe, and I have put you in great danger. I will come this way no longer.”

“No, Uncle. Only God can keep me safe. Ever since we started down the Liger, I have felt the warmest feeling in my heart. I feel that God intends for you to prosper. I will pray tonight to ask him to show you how this voyage can be made in safety.”

As the sun rose the next day, a rainbow appeared. It hadn’t rained that night. And only Jesus and Joseph could see it.

“Uncle, that is the sign you need from now on. Sail out on the blue waters away from land only when you see the rainbow, and God will keep you safe.”

St. Hilary’s Parish, Cornwall, A.D. 1932, during the reign of King George V of England

“B
ernie, I really do think it’d be best to keep it in storage—it’s such a rare old thing, and best kept safe under the tarpaulin.” Annie’s tone was insistent, although she never raised her eyes from the white doily she was crocheting.