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Forgiven (Light in the Empire)

By Carol Ashby

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Chapter 1: Lost to a Roman Sword

Roman Province of Judaea, AD 122

The unarmed teenager lay dying at his feet, and Lucius wanted to vomit. That wasn’t the response expected of a Roman officer, and he swallowed enough to keep his breakfast down. The ridicule from his fellow officers would be merciless if they thought he cared so much about killing a Jew.

Killing for Rome was not the problem. He’d killed in battle many times without regret. This time should have been no different. Zealots had ambushed a Roman tax collector, and the troops were hunting the murderers where they’d gone to ground in Gath-Hepher, a known zealot hideout. In the heat of battle, Lucius had thrust his sword into any and every man who came at him, already killing three.

He was pulling his blade from the third when he heard movement behind him. Someone stepped out of a narrow passageway. He spun and cut him down. His gladius slid deep into the chest. Blood flowed fast. So fast it coated his palm when he pushed the body off. Just one more zealot killed to keep the peace in Judaea.

Then he looked at the face. And the eyes.

Where was the hatred?

He wasn’t a zealot. He was only a boy who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. His eyes held Lucius’s. Surprise faded into…well, it looked like peace. He smiled―smiled up at the man holding the sword still crimson with his blood.

And then it happened.

He whispered something, and Lucius could almost swear it was “I forgive you.” But his ears must have fooled him. No one would ever say that to the man who’d just killed him.

Then the smile relaxed, and the emotion in the eyes changed to…nothing. The boy was dead, and there was nothing Lucius could ever do to change that.
He strode to his horse and mounted. Several zealots had fled down the narrow alleys where the horses couldn’t follow. The troop would catch them on the other side of the village. With one final glance at the body, he kicked his horse and rode off in pursuit of the real enemies of Rome.

***

Rachel sat on the wooden bench outside the door as the canopy above her fluttered in the breeze. She pressed the heels of her hands against her jaw and her fingers tight against her eyes, but that didn’t stop tears escaping between her fingers to form wet circles in the dust at her feet. More tears wet her thick brown hair that swung in rhythm with her rocking as gasping sobs convulsed her whole body.

Her twin brother Reuben lay dead inside, killed by a Roman sword. Her oldest brother, Nathaniel, had brought him home from Gath-Hepher. Why had Nathaniel let his zealot friends attack the Romans while Reuben was visiting?
Why hadn’t Reuben listened when she begged him not to go there? He’d laughed at her concerns. He’d said he wasn’t planning to do anything stupid. He only wanted to convince Nathaniel to stop fighting and come home. She’d told him Nathaniel wouldn’t listen. Why hadn’t he believed her?

She lifted her hands from her eyes and covered her ears. It wasn’t enough to block out her father and brother yelling at each other. Abba’s deep voice battered her head like a hammer on an anvil. Nathaniel’s higher voice stabbed her heart like a dagger.

“See what your hatred of Rome has done? If you had chosen to follow Yeshua instead of that Pappus, your brother would still be alive.”
“I didn’t kill Reuben. Rome did. It’s been killing us Jews for more than a hundred years. Don’t blame me for the sins of Rome!”

“It is your sins I am worried about, not Rome’s. Killing is not the way to freedom. The LORD’s love through Yeshua is. Give up this way of death. Come back to the way of life before it is too late. Please, son. Come back to Yeshua.”

“Your Yeshua hasn’t brought freedom or life to Israel. I was a fool to think he would when I was a child. The only language Rome understands is the sword, and we’ll use it to drive her out of our land.”

“No, Nathaniel. You will only bring more death to the LORD’s people, like Reuben.”

“Enough, Abba! I won’t stay and listen to you blame me. I’ll take my own revenge on Rome for my brother’s blood. I’m leaving, and don’t expect me to return.”

He stormed out the door and past her without a glance.

Rachel ran after him as he strode toward his horse.
“Nathaniel…Nathaniel!”

He stopped as he prepared to mount and turned to face her. She gripped his arm and leaned in as she tilted her head back to look up at him. A teardrop trickled across her cheekbone, then clung to the edge of her jaw. The fierce pain in his eyes softened as he gazed down at her.

“Please, Nathaniel! Don’t leave like this. Abba loves you…I love you. We want you here with us.”

He swept the back of his forefinger from her chin to her ear to wipe away the trail of tears.

“I know he does, little one, but I can’t listen to him anymore. He blames me as much as that Roman butcher, even if he didn’t say it.” His mouth twitched as pain softened his eyes still more. Then his jaw clenched as the flinty glare returned. “I’m sorry Reuben followed me where the Romans could kill him, but I’m not sorry at all that I’m fighting the Roman dogs. A man can’t stand by and let tyrants rule our land. Abba doesn’t understand that. Tell him I still honor him, but I can’t honor his choice not to fight. I can’t stay.”

He lifted her hand from his arm, mounted, and kicked the horse into a canter. Her shoulders sagged as he rode out the courtyard gate.

She tipped her face to the sky, and more teardrops trickled past her ears. “Why, LORD? Why?”

She’d already lost one brother to a Roman sword. Would she lose another to the Jewish sword raised against the Roman one?

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