The Thief (10 page)

But if she didn’t do as the centurion said, he could arrest her. And if he found out what she carried in her belt—who she really was—he’d turn her over to the Sanhedrin, and they would get the stoning they had been denied.

No. She couldn’t chance it. She must bring Jesus to the
Roman. Then Longinus would leave her and Cedron alone. They could go home, start a new life. Cedron could find work, and she could stop stealing. Perhaps even Mama and Abba could change now that their son was no longer blind. They would be a respectable family again, leave the stigma of the am-ha-arez behind them forever.

She pushed away from the column and moved down the center of the court, searching the crowd for Jesus or one of the other Galileans.

Near the Beautiful Gate, a voice shouted. “That’s him!”

Another voice cried out. “He’s the one the prophet healed.”

A force of ten temple guards, dressed in ceremonial blue tunics and cone-shaped hats, marched through the crowd, pushing Cedron ahead of them. What did they want with Cedron?

Nissa rushed to her brother. “Where are you taking him?” A guard shoved her aside. She followed the wake of the guards to the Stone Court, a covered meeting place on the east end of the Court of the Gentiles.

The Sanhedrin waited on a raised platform inside the Stone Court. Priests wearing white tunics with wide linen belts stood with scribes, doctors of the law, and wealthy Pharisees. Caiaphas, the high priest, sat on an ornate chair in the center of the platform. A violet surplice covered his tunic, the lower half embroidered with pomegranates and tied with gold bells. Onyx shoulder pieces jutted from his neck, engraved with the names of the twelve tribes of Israel. The phylacteries hanging against his forehead and cheeks framed a hooked nose, a patch of gray beard, and narrow eyes.

Nissa’s hands shook, and her heart pounded. Who could help him? Her family had no friends among the powerful Jews, no one to speak for them.

The march of hobnailed sandals echoed through the courtyard. An authoritative voice rang out with a distinctive Roman accent. “What is the meaning of this?”

The temple guards snapped to attention as the centurion
marched into the Stone Court, his armor glowing in the setting sun. The crimson plume of his helmet swayed like a red flag, and his sword glinted at his side. At least twenty legionaries followed in close formation. He stopped just half a step from the high priest.

Caiaphas gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white beneath heavy gold rings.

Nissa’s racing pulse slowed. The Sanhedrin feared the centurion as much as she did. The Roman could order them all flogged, even executed, for no more reason than disrupting the peace.

“We are questioning him.” Caiaphas cleared his throat. “It is not Rome’s concern.”

Longinus looked down his nose at the high priest. “Everything is Rome’s concern.” He took position next to Cedron, crossed his arms, and spread his feet wide.

Nissa caught her breath. Could this Roman protect Cedron from his own people? He had no reason to help her and her brother, especially not with the way Cedron was scowling at him, but she felt better nonetheless.

Caiaphas swallowed and turned his heavily weighted head to Cedron. “What is your name?”

“I am Cedron ben Noach.”

“And are you the one they say used to sit and beg at the temple?”

“Yes.”

A well-dressed Pharisee stepped forward. “He’s not! He just looks like him.”

Nissa stiffened at the insult. They were calling Cedron a liar, accusing him of being part of a hoax. She sneaked a glance at the centurion. His jaw tightened, and his bright blue eyes focused on the Pharisee. He knew it wasn’t a lie, but the word of a pagan wouldn’t help Cedron.

Cedron straightened his back. “I am he. I’ve been blind since birth, begging at the temple and the Dung Gate since I
was a child.” He motioned to one of the doctors of the law. “I’ve listened to you teach many days outside the temple. Surely you remember me.”

The rabbi peered at him with milky eyes. “You might be the one.”

Another Pharisee came forth. This one was younger than the rest, with a bright white prayer shawl and curling beard. “I am Nicodemus. Tell us. If you are the man, what happened to make you see?”

Cedron leaned toward Nicodemus. “A man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes and told me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ So I went there and washed and was able to see.”

Nissa inched forward.
Good, Cedron. Just tell them what happened. Then we can leave.

Nicodemus stroked his beard. “Where is this man?”

Nissa glanced toward the centurion. His face was set like stone, but he was listening. Of that she was sure. Both he and the Sanhedrin wanted to find Jesus.

“I don’t know.”

Good. Now we can go.

Cedron raised his voice so all could hear. “But I shall find him and give him honor.”

Nissa tensed.
No, Cedron.
This would only lead to trouble.

Caiaphas pushed himself to standing. “This man worked signs on the Sabbath. He is sinful.”

Cedron shook his head. “How can a sinful man do such a miracle? He is a prophet.”

Nissa cringed.
Please. Don’t make them angry.

The priests and holy men broke into groups of two and three. The one named Nicodemus argued with a Sadducee. Caiaphas tore at his beard. Longinus edged closer to Cedron, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Finally, Caiaphas’s voice rang out, quieting the clamor. “Bring forward the parents.”

A knot of temple guards pushed through the crowd, Abba
and Mama at their core. Abba’s eyes were red and bleary, his steps shuffling. He wore a robe of good quality, but old and threadbare. His white prayer shawl showed far less wear. Mama’s hair stuck up around her face, and her skin was creased with sleep lines. Her clothes, too, showed the family had once been respectable, if not prosperous, but the hem of her tunic was ragged and her mantle was askew, barely covering her stringy gray hair. No bracelets, rings, or brooches adorned her arms or clothes.

“Am-ha-arez,” whispered some in the crowd, drawing back.

“Mama? Abba?” Hope rose in Nissa. They could help Cedron. They could tell these men who he was, that he had been blind since he was born, that he shouldn’t be on trial.

Abba came forward first. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open when he saw Cedron. “What? My son . . .” He stepped forward, but a guard pulled him back.

Mama lurched toward Cedron. “Is it true? You can see?”

Caiaphas stepped in front of them, two guards flanking his sides and blocking them from Cedron. He stared at them for a long moment. Abba shifted uncomfortably, and Mama seemed to shrink. “Are you not Noach, the woodcutter who supplies wood for the temple sacrifices?” Caiaphas looked to his scribe, who nodded.

“Yes,” Abba said, his back straightening. “Years ago, I supplied wood for your fires.”

“But no longer?”

One of the chief priests, a short round man, leaned toward Caiaphas and whispered in his ear. Caiaphas’s full brows pulled down, and he turned to Abba. “They say you no longer make sacrifices at the temple; you ignore the law and don’t pray the Shema. They say you are an am-ha-arez.”

Abba shook his head and bowed low before the priest. “No, my lord. I follow the laws of Moses. We observe the Sabbath and the feasts. I recite the Shema and—”

“Of course you do.” Caiaphas stepped forward and smiled down on the old man. “Of course you do, Noach.”

Nissa curled her hands into fists, her nails biting into her palms. How could Abba pretend they were pious Jews? They hadn’t made a sacrifice for years, and the only prayer Abba said was for his dice to be lucky.

The high priest raised his voice and spread his hands toward the gathered holy men. “Unfair rumors, I have no doubt. You and your faithful wife”—he nodded to the old woman—“are God-fearing and law-abiding. You have been treated unfairly. I, myself, will see you are once again welcomed among the woodcutters of the temple.”

Abba bowed almost to the ground. Mama did the same. “Thank you, high priest. Thank you.”

Caiaphas smiled like a snake about to strike.

Why were they treating Abba and Mama like friends and Cedron like a leper? Cedron was the one who said the Shema. He was the one who kept the commandments. Abba was the am-ha-arez, gambling away what he should be giving to the temple. Angry words formed on her tongue as she pushed forward.

Cedron caught her eye and shook his head.

Nissa clamped her jaw shut and ground her teeth together. He was right. They wouldn’t listen to a woman.

“Now.” Caiaphas swept his bejeweled hand toward Cedron. “Is this your son, who they say was born blind?”

Abba froze as if he’d been caught in a snare.

Nicodemus stepped forward. His voice was measured and gentle. “Just answer with the truth.”

Abba nodded.

Caiaphas frowned and pushed Nicodemus back from the couple. “How is it then, Noach, woodcutter to the temple, that he can now see?”

Abba swallowed, his mouth worked like it was dry. “We know this is our son, and he was born blind.” He glanced at his wife. “We do not know how he sees now, nor do we know who opened his eyes.”

Nissa strained forward, pressing her lips together to hold in
her angry words. Would her cowardly father throw Cedron to the snarling wolves of the Sanhedrin?

Caiaphas raised his brows as though waiting for more.

Abba wrung his hands and looked from Caiaphas to the gathering of priests, then to the temple guard. Finally, he spun toward his son. “Ask him,” he burst out. “He is of age. He can speak for himself.”

Caiaphas rounded on Cedron. “Give God the praise. Tell us the truth, ben Noach. We know the man Jesus is a sinner. He could not have healed you.”

Nissa tried to catch Cedron’s eye.
Please, Cedron. Give them what they want. Let the Galilean fight his own battles.

But Cedron faced Caiaphas, his back straight, towering over the high priest. The centurion took a step closer to Cedron, as though ready to protect him.

Nissa held her breath. She’d seen this look on her brother’s face before. He wouldn’t back down now.

“There is one thing I know. I was blind.
Blind.
” He said the word like they didn’t understand it. “I told you before, and you did not listen.” He spoke to the high priest as though he were a slow-witted child. “He spit on the ground, made clay, and anointed my eyes with it. Why must you hear it again and again? Do you want to become his disciple, too?”

Caiaphas reared back and shook his head. “He made clay and healed on the Sabbath! I don’t want to follow him. He breaks the laws of Moses.”

Cedron pulled off his head covering and threw it on the ground. He pulled his hands through his hair. “Do you not understand what he did? He made a blind man see!” He pointed to his deep-set brown eyes. “How can you not see where he is from?” Cedron bent toward Caiaphas, his face a breath from the high priest’s. “Look at me! It is unheard of for anyone to open the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do this. Or are you blind as well?”

A shocked silence fell on the gathered crowd. Nissa’s hand
covered her mouth as if she had been the one to speak so foolishly.
Cedron, no.

But he wasn’t finished. “We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he listens to those who are devout and do his will. I prayed for my sight, and he gave it to me.”

Caiaphas stepped back, his face flushed red. “You are a liar and a blasphemer!” Spittle flew from his mouth. “You were born totally in sin, yet you are trying to teach us. You are not one of us. You—not your parents—are an am-ha-arez, and you are banished from the temple!”

Whispers rippled through the crowd. They drew back from Cedron.

Nissa let out a breath like she’d been punched. Banished from the temple? That meant he could never come here to pray and make sacrifice. No Jew would hire Cedron now that he’d been barred from the temple, not even in the lower city.

A guard pushed Abba forward. His eyes darted from Cedron to the powerful men on the platform. “You are no longer welcome in my house,” he stammered. “You are no longer my son.”

Anger blazed through Nissa like flames through a burnt offering. Of course Abba would betray his son for a few shekels from the temple treasury. And the notion that her parents would change now that Cedron could see, that they would be a family again? How could she have been so foolish? They were worse off than before. Had she really thought she had seen God’s mercy? All he’d given her was a cruel hour of foolish hope.

Cedron turned his gaze on his father, for both the first time and the last. “So be it.”

Caiaphas commanded the temple guards. “Throw him out.”

The crowd erupted, advancing on Cedron with fists raised.

Longinus roared a command to his men. His legionaries marched forward, pushing the crowd back with Latin shouts and thumps of wooden shields against flesh. A few men stood against the soldiers; most turned and fled through the dust-choked courtyard.

Nissa lunged forward and grasped a fistful of her brother’s tunic. She didn’t let go as the temple guards closed ranks around Cedron and pulled them both out of the Stone Court and toward the Huldah Gates.

The last thing she heard was Caiaphas’s voice shouting over the clamor. “Make sure he never comes back!”

Chapter 9