The Making of the Lamb (26 page)

Joseph raised his eyebrows. “Jesus?”

“How can I atone for sin, if I’ve not—I mean—I haven’t sinned, Uncle.”

Daniel glared at him.

“All men sin, Jesus,” Joseph said. “Every one.”

Oh, Father, Joseph will never understand.

Daniel cast his bread broadly across the water. “Of course, the man who’s going to save Israel needn’t perform the same rituals as we pathetic humans.”

“Daniel, that was uncalled for.” Joseph recited Scriptures from the book of Micah.

I thought a leader had to be greater than everyone else. Is it possible that first I have to be like everyone else? That I have to be humble and admit that I make choices I regret?
Jesus tossed his bread onto the water.

As they walked home, Daniel strode ahead, leaving his father behind.

Jesus jogged to catch up. “What is wrong with you?”

“Not everyone is as sinless as you claim to be.”

“Of course not. Look, I took part in the
Tashlikh
, didn’t I?”

“Only because of Papa.”

“And you. Daniel, I’m not trying to set myself above anyone. I just—”

“I’m not concerned with you! Why do you always think everything has to do with you?”

“Why are you angry, then? Don’t take it out on me because you feel guilty about Golia.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Daniel broke into a run.

The day after
Yom Kippur
, Jesus handed Joseph a scroll to take back to Nazareth. “There is so much to say to Papa and Mother, so I have been writing some each day.”

Jesus watched Pirro sail away with Kendrick and Joseph on the loaded vessels, back to Armorica. He would make his way back to Carn Roz on the next vessel heading from Armorica to Belenium.
Pirro says he must look to the sale of his own merchandise back in Armorica. He would do better to trust Uncle Joseph and look to what he can do here. He drinks too much of his own wine and then complains that he does not have enough to trade with the Britons. He gambles away most of what he has. After a whole year, he does not even have enough to fill the hold of a single ship.

Jesus started another scroll that night.

T
hey rode out from Carn Roz in search of ore.

Pirro had insisted on tagging along, but Daniel and the others largely ignored him. Although he was older, the others were worldlier. Even Fedwig. It showed in their bearing and confidence as they rode, and in the sense they applied to business.

Jesus, riding in the lead, was now in his sixteenth summer. No longer was he a frail child. Years of sword practice with Fedwig had built definition in his muscles, and he had grown to a man’s full height. As a swordsman, he was more skillful than powerful, combining the bravado of the Celtic technique for swinging a weapon with the intensity, focus, and discipline of a Roman. He was a fair match for any of the warriors. Daniel was older, but Jesus clearly was the leader. Even Daniel—
especially
Daniel—couldn’t deny him that.

Fedwig’s mark of manhood was his sheer size and strength. Younger than Jesus by almost two years, he was nevertheless taller and more stout. His participation in a minor reprisal raid on the Durotriges had secured his place among the warriors. Jesus surpassed him in technique, but Fedwig had learned from Jesus and remained an equal opponent with the sword. The battle axe was Fedwig’s chosen weapon. Jesus and Daniel both loved his company and easy wit. Fedwig still regarded Jesus as his hero, but Daniel never felt any jealousy. How could he?

Although Daniel had hardly spoken of them since arriving in Britain, he had not forgotten two things about his cousin. The first was the divine vision he saw in Jesus that day in Nazareth; perhaps that was why he had willingly yielded so many of the prerogatives that were rightfully his as the eldest. The second was the dark prophecy of an all-too-real, painful, and shameful death by crucifixion. Even as Jesus had grown proficient with the implements of war, Daniel had tried to discourage his cousin without violating the oath he had given his father.

Daniel now sported a full beard. Back in Judea, a beard was the mark of a full-grown man, but the Celts, who shaved their faces, leaving only a thick mustache, thought it strange. Except for the implements of hunting, he never took up arms himself. In Daniel’s opinion, the fields of war were filled with the corpses of mediocre swordsmen who would have fared far better not to have been swordsmen at all. He saw no point in joining them.

Daniel managed the enterprise in his father’s absence, hiring and firing the laborers and negotiating for supplies and transportation, all of which Jesus was happy to leave to him.

Over the rolling hills along the eastern shore of the harbor and the River Fal, they rode.

“We can swim the horses across the river to Trellisick where it narrows just ahead,” said Pirro.

“I think I will check the current, unless you would care to go first,” Jesus replied.

Daniel and Fedwig snickered. Pirro would never be allowed to forget he had almost gotten Jesus and Daniel drowned, on that ill-considered wade out to Ictus.

Pirro had asked to come along and search for trade goods that would fill the leftover space in the holds going back to Gaul. It could only be kindness that led Papa to keep him as part of the expedition—so the fool could earn at least a modest living. His part of the business was flawed; although the Romans and Gauls liked Celtic artifacts, the more intricately decorated wares from other regions of Britain were more appealing to them. Constantly out to make a big score, Pirro lacked the patience to haggle effectively, and he often gambled or drank away what modest profits he made. Although he claimed credit for bringing them to Britain by way of the ancient tin route, everyone remembered how he had underestimated the effort required to secure the tin once they got there.

Fortunately, the tide was slack and the horses swam the channel safely. The hills on the other side were easier for the horses, and they approached Truro, a small community defended only by a single stockade, well before dusk. A sentry challenged them at the gates of the settlement, but Jesus and Daniel were well known, and were allowed to pass.

“That’s strange, don’t you think?” Jesus asked. “We’ve often come this way, but the entrance has never been guarded before.”

As they rode on to the common, Daniel detected a sense of fear. Truro was one of the settlements among the Dumnonii with large courtyard houses. In the past, the entrances and windows had been open and, but now the travelers found them closely shuttered. The people, who had been most welcoming in the past, now averted their eyes.

“They fear the pirates from Eire,” Pirro remarked. “The bards tell of raids in which they kill all the men and carry off the women and children.”

“We have heard the stories, too.” Daniel slowed his mount to allow Pirro to come alongside. “But we are not even halfway across to the northern shore of Belerium. Don’t the pirates just raid along the shore?”

“The pickings along the northern shore must be growing slim,” Pirro replied. “Perranporth is less than ten miles away. It’s not too far for the pirates to get here and make it back to their ships in a day, if they decide to raid further inland. That is why the people now do not trust travelers.”

Daniel nodded. For once, the man was making some sense.

Despite the shuttered homes elsewhere, they were lucky to find the inn still open.

The next morning, Jesus looked over the land as they rode forth from Truro. “The Spirit is guiding me to the north,” he said. “That is where the best ore will be found.”

“But that will take us into the greatest danger,” said Daniel.

“Let us go first to Castle An Dinas,” said Jesus. “King Uryen will know the latest news, and his hillfort is the most secure in all the western lands of the Dumnonii. We will need his permission anyway to extract the ore, and we can hire the workers we will need there.”

“Won’t the men be afraid to work the tin lodes if pirates are around?” asked Daniel.

“They face danger anyway unless they abandon their homes, and they still need to feed their families,” said Fedwig. “The ore is heavy, and the pirates will not be able to carry it off that easily. Working the tin lodes may be the safest thing for them.”

Jesus nodded and led them forward.

Dusk was approaching as they made their way into King Uryen’s hillfort. Castle An Dinas was the largest and most secure fortification among the western Dumnonii. Three concentric rings of earthworks and gullies surrounded the perimeter, with each ring topped by a wooden rampart. Jesus and his group made their way through a series of switchbacks designed to force any attacker rash enough to attempt the entrance through a killing field of missiles coming from all sides.

Inside, the hillfort was a hive of activity, stretching over twenty acres. Grains were being stored in cellars, livestock were being settled, and artisans of all kinds were closing up for the night. The warriors retreated to the banquet hall, where the mead was already flowing.

The hospitality of King Uryen’s hall was offered freely. Though Jesus could be taken for a Briton, Daniel stood out on account of his beard. Pirro, too, had long since adopted British garb, but had not fully mastered the dialects. Most of the chiefs there had dealt with Jesus and Daniel, and some even recognized Pirro. It was enough that they were guests of Bannoch and under his protection for the group to be made welcome at the tables.

Amongst the carousing, Jesus and Daniel quietly blessed their food and offered thanks to God. By now they had learned enough of how the Britons prepared food that sharing their meals was no problem, apart from occasionally having to decline pork or shellfish. Usually there were plenty of other offerings to choose from. They had to avoid wine, because it was sometimes offered up to the druid gods, but the mead never was, so that was safe to drink.

As the meal wound down, the drinking continued and the carousing grew louder. Jesus stood up, and the hall quieted. It was traditional and expected for guests to offer toasts and gifts. “My friends and I offer thanks for the warm hospitality of this castle and of good King Uryen,” Jesus began. “May he live long for the peace and prosperity of the people!” Cheers rang out. “As a token of our gratitude, I bring some fine spice from the Orient.”

An awkward silence filled the hall. Some of the men jumped to their feet and drew swords. Others calmed them down.

A man with a bent back and a disfigured face stood and faced Jesus. “You are a stranger to our ways, so you must be forgiven for your ignorance. It is a bad omen. Such a gift to someone who is sick implies that spices will be needed soon for burial.”

“I am sorry. I meant no disrespect. We have come far and travel light. That is the only reason we brought spice. It travels easily.”

The men in the hall relaxed their glares of shock and disapproval.

Then Pirro spoke. “We did not know King Uryen was ill.”

Fedwig let out a groan.

Pirro’s comment seemed to renew the anger in the hall. From the muttering of the men, Jesus realized that Pirro’s explanation had implied that King Uryen’s illness was of no concern in the wider world. He signaled Daniel and Pirro to remain silent.

The old man stood once again. “Perhaps you should have looked for our king before offering the gift. Nonetheless, I am honor bound to accept it on his behalf. To refuse even an ill-favored gift would be the gravest insult. That would tarnish the king’s name forever.”

Jesus looked to Fedwig. Perhaps some of the damage could be undone by withholding the gift. Fedwig seemed to read his thoughts but motioned for Jesus to get up and go to the old man. Evidently, withholding a gift, once offered, would only make the situation worse. All eyes in the hall were on Jesus as he approached the elder. From the burlap bag, he drew out several small earthenware jars. The old man snatched them from him.

“I am sorry that my gift has caused sorrow. That was never my intention.”

“Nevertheless, you have offended.”

“We will leave you for the night.”

“That would be wise.”

“We will pray for King Uryen’s recovery.”