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Redemption's Promise

By Sandi Rebert

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The sky was bleak and gray over Jerusalem. Night would soon be upon the city, and with it, a storm, but the bustle in the marketplace seemed to ignore reality as determined shoppers finished their purchases for the day.
Jason leaned against a wall, just inside an archway leading to the Temple, and momentarily caught his breath. His chest was heaving; a sharp pain ripped through his side. It seemed as if he’d been running forever. If only he knew why.
A splash of red and gold in the distance, which would have gleamed had the sun been shining, grabbed his attention. He forced his leaden feet to move away from the advancing soldiers. There are only two of them. Maybe I can lose myself in this crowd, he thought. He rounded the flower cart in the middle of the street and ran straight into a rotund woman carrying a basket of food.
“Young man—my bread, my fruit!” she cried as the basket and its contents scattered over the street’s dirt-encrusted paving stones. A nearby man stepped on a bunch of grapes, some pomegranates rolled under the flower cart, and a loaf of bread landed at Jason’s feet.
Jason stooped down, grabbed the basket, and quickly began snatching up most of the food that hadn’t been ruined, occasionally casting an anxious look over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, madam.”
“Jason? Jason bar Micaiah! Don’t you remember me?”
Jason knew he had no time to lose. “No, madam. Please, I have to—” He glanced over his shoulder again; no sign of his pursuers.
“Shara,” the woman rattled on, “wife of Maharai. Your mother, Deborah, and I grew up together here in Jerusalem. We were good friends! My husband and I have had the pleasure of returning to Jerusalem this year for a visit.”
Her shrill, high-pitched voice irritated Jason. He rubbed his arm nervously. “Please, madam, I’m sorry. I can’t stay and talk!” He tried slipping past her, but she grabbed his cloak and pulled him closer.
“Let me look at you!” she continued as if the day were beginning, and she had nowhere to go nor anything to do. “My, how you’ve grown! The last time I saw you, you were no higher than this!” She gestured with her hand at waist level. “You must be what—sixteen by now?” She released her grip, stood back, and gave him an admiring look of approval. “Your father must be proud!”
The mention of his father tore at Jason’s soul. Where is my father? Jason wondered. He's been gone since last night. Did something happen to him? “Yes, madam. Please ...”
Once again, he tried to dart around her. But getting around Shara was no simple task. Sidestepping to her right, she blocked his exit once more.
“Does your family still live in the same house?” she questioned.
Jason's home loomed in front of his mind. Soldiers were running out the door, running toward him! Was it just minutes ago? Jason watched the scene repeat itself in his memory. He felt the terror that had gripped him earlier when he’d turned and run away as fast as he could in the opposite direction. But why? Why are they after me? What were they doing in my house? “Yes, madam, we still live in the same house.”
“And how is your mother? I have so much to tell her!”
“Please, I ...” He paused. The thought of his mother troubled him. Where is she? She’s always home when I arrive back from my lessons with the rabbi. Was she in the house? Was she hurt or killed by the soldiers? “I don’t know. I don’t know where she is.”
He glanced over his shoulder again. Maybe the soldiers hadn’t seen him round the corner. Maybe they’d taken another street. Perhaps God was protecting him by allowing this chance encounter with the obtrusive woman.
Shara laughed, her bulky frame jiggling as she shook her head. “Don’t know where your mother is?” She cackled all too loudly. “It’s probably more truthful to say she doesn’t know where you are! Tell her—”
Red and gold just to his left seemed to take away what little breath Jason had remaining. “I’ve got to leave!” he shouted, nearly pushing her down with the newfound energy that pulsed through his body.
“Well!” the alarmed woman cried indignantly, looking after him as he disappeared momentarily through the thinning crowd, then became visible again. “They certainly haven’t brought you up to be polite!” she yelled, then muttered to herself about his disrespectfulness as she leaned over to pick up the last of the still intact fruit.
“There he is!” a sharp, commanding voice shouted near her ears. “Stop that boy!”
Shara stood up and spun around, nearly ramming herself into the centurion’s drawn sword. She uttered a piercing scream.
“Out of the way, woman!” he ordered.
But the more the terrified female tried to obey, the worse the situation became. Sheer panic froze her to the spot as she noticed the reactions of those around her. Entertained by the scene, there had, at first, been shrieks of fear from the curious onlookers. But now, laughter rippled through the air as they watched in amusement as the frustrated soldiers vainly attempted to pass the confused woman. If they moved to their left, she would move to her right. If they moved to their right, she would move to her left.
“Out of our way before I run you through!” the centurion shouted, pushing her roughly aside as her basket sailed through the air again, sending a fresh shower of fruits, vegetables, and bread upon the astonished crowd.

***


It was getting late. The sky was like a thick black blanket. The wind was whipping rain sideways. Jason had been running in circles for so long he could barely feel his legs. If only I could get to Joel’s house. He’ll help me get away, he assured himself. Exhausted, he sank down and leaned back against the door of a house with an archway large enough to keep him somewhat out of the rain. He shivered again. Since he’d not seen his pursuers for quite a while, he decided to rest until the storm was over.

***


Ruth picked up the heavy bucket of dirty water used to wash the evening meal dishes and carried it to the atrium. She opened the door, preparing to throw the water onto the street. Just then, Jason’s body slumped to the ground in front of her. Gasping, she backed into the house. With a loud thud, the bucket fell out of her hands, sending a puddle of water over the mosaic floor. “Master!” she cried with fright. “Master, come quickly!”
Surprised that his normally quiet slave could shout so loudly, Antonius ran down the stairs, then across the atrium to the front entrance of his home. “What is it, Ruth?”
“I found this boy, sir,” she said, pointing to the still figure.
“Boy!” Antonius shouted as he gave Jason a slight kick. “Boy, wake up!”
“Is he dead, sir?” Ruth asked in a horrified whisper.
“I don’t know.” Antonius grabbed the torch hanging just inside the atrium and handed it to Ruth. “Hold this while I take a closer look.”
“I found him like this when I opened the door.”
Antonius stooped down, pushed a few stray locks of Jason’s dark brown hair off his pallid face, then lifted him closer to the light. “Well, well, well,” he remarked, pleased by the discovery of the visitor’s identity.
“Do you know this boy, sir?”
The centurion nodded. “You might say that.”
Hearing voices, Jason tried to sit up but couldn’t. His head was reeling, hot. A low moan escaped his lips before he slipped into unconsciousness.
“He’s burning up with fever,” Antonius announced. “Come, Jason,” he said as he gently lifted the young man and carried him inside.

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