When Jesus Wept - By Bodie Page 0,67
What use is he to Rome? You think I could justify paying such a price? What would my officers say if I showed them the accounts of this post and then pointed to a cripple and said, ‘For this one-legged slave I was required by law to pay his master …’ They would take it out of my hide!”
At last light dawned. I fully entered the charade. “I will not take one denarius less! Thirty pieces of silver or I will appeal to the judges. Rome has stolen my slave and—”
Marcus roared back. “Take him! Take the sniveling creature!”
“I will!” I shouted.
Marcus lowered his voice. His expression softened. “Patrick, your life belongs to David ben Lazarus. There is safety in that. Do you understand?”
Patrick’s chin jerked down once. His eyes were wide. He spoke in the tongue of his homeland. I guessed he was thanking Marcus.
Marcus took charge. “All right, then. Be of good courage. It’s settled. I will prepare papers of release and put my seal on it while you saddle your horse and mine. It’s Sabbath … your day of rest, but for the sake of Patrick, do not rest. Ride through the night. Ride like the wind. The fresh brand of a conscript slave is a danger to you. Blot it out. If you’re stopped, the soldiers on patrol will likely be unable to read the words on my document of transfer. But show them my seal. I will come to Bethany to fetch back my horse. See you take care of him. Now hurry!” He pivoted on his heel and strode out of the forge.
“Come, Patrick. Let’s go. Adrianna is waiting.”
Patrick shook his head slowly from side to side. “Something to do first.” He took the tongs and lifted up the red hot iron of the half-formed shoe. His eyes fixed on the coals of the forge for an instant. Then he moved his arm near to the fierce heat. In a single stroke, he pressed his arm onto the molten metal. Flesh hissed and seared, burning away the mark of slavery. Patrick made a low growling in his agony, then plunged his arm into a bucket of cold water.
He gasped. “Finished. Now. Home.”
Chapter 22
News of Patrick’s homecoming somehow preceded us, spreading from village to village in Judea. As we topped the rise of the hill overlooking home, two hundred people were gathered outside the gates waiting for us.
Patrick raised his arms to heaven and wept. “Home!” he cried. “Was there ever such a sight so beautiful in all the world?”
Smoke and the aroma of cooking meat filled the air.
“Look!” I laughed. “They’re roasting the fatted calf! For you, Patrick! All for you!”
Strains of Carta’s flute, of tambourines and drums, drifted up as we rode closer to home.
Patrick began to sing:
“For the horses of Pharaoh
went with his chariots
and horsemen into the sea!
Sing to the LORD,
for he has triumphed gloriously!
The horse and rider
He has thrown into the sea!”1
At the challenge of Patrick’s rich baritone, the watchman on the walls lifted a shofar to his lips and gave the signal. Heads lifted up, and suddenly there came a shout of joy so loud that the hills behind us echoed.
Adrianna came running, followed by Carta playing his flute at the head of a dozen skipping children.
“Look! Look! It’s Patrick! Patrick and the master!”
“Master Lazarus has brought Patrick home!”
“Praise to God in heaven on high!”
“Patrick’s home!”
Samson and Delilah followed with the three goats on their heels. And then came Martha and all the others, kicking up dust on the road as they ran.
Patrick leapt from the fine black horse. He bowed and kissed the ground, then jumped up and gave a whoop of delight as Adrianna, puffing and red-faced, fell into his arms!
He was instantly surrounded, swallowed up by joy!
“Patrick! How’d you get free?”
“Tell us what happened?”
“From front to back … tell us!”
“Tell us!”
Flushed and grinning, Patrick glanced back at me over his shoulder and babbled. “The Master found me. Lost sheep that I was. He was very brave to be sure. He said I was his slave and demanded payment from the officer for me.”
“Demanded!”
“Did you hear that? Master Lazarus demanded from a Roman officer!”
Patrick continued, “The fellow would not pay him the price. Said I am a one-legged reject and not worth it!”
This brought howls of laughter from the crowd. “Ha! Not worth it?”
“Patrick not worth it?”
Carta declared, “Now this is why Rome will one day fall! They do not know a bargain when they see one!”
More laughter.
Patrick