Read Online Jerusalem's Hope by Brock Thoene - Free Book Online Page A

bench. “Marcus,” he said, “I value you as a veteran and loyal officer with fifteen more years’ experience than me. I have learned a great deal from you. Unlike some political appointees, I don’t think instant wisdom comes with my lineage, or that the ability to lead is automatically conferred with a purchased insignia of rank. I also think of you as a friend.”
    Marcus sipped the wine. It tasted of dark cherries and summer hay fields and warmed his throat and stomach. He waited to see where this speech led.
    â€œYou’re riding south tomorrow,” Felix continued. “But before that happens, I know you have a few questions for me . . . and I have things to say to you as well.”
    â€œWhy did you spare Yeshua?” Marcus asked, taking the invitation at face value. “You had the power to condemn him with a single word, yet you didn’t. Why not?”
    â€œBecause I’m not Vara,” Felix said. “Killing people doesn’t amuse me. Don’t misunderstand . . . I think the Rabbi may be a danger to Rome, and if I’m right, he’ll have to be crushed.” Felix stared across the rim of his silver goblet into Marcus’ eyes. “And if it comes to that, you’ll have a tough choice to make. Why do you want to save him?”
    Why indeed?
    Marcus had experienced respect for brave enemies before and yet remained remorseless when battling them. Yeshua was a Jew . . . a race despised and ridiculed throughout the empire. It was Marcus’ sworn duty to uphold the authority of Rome, the prestige of Rome, the superiority of Rome.
    Why should he risk his career and his life to shield a Jewish preacher?
    â€œBecause he is more than a mere man,” Marcus said at last. “Felix, I once heard him pose this question: ‘Which is harder to heal, a broken body or a broken soul?’”
    â€œSo?” Felix scoffed, tossing back half a cupful of wine. “Greek philosophers say such things all the time to their admiring lackeys. Isn’t this just a Jewish version?”
    â€œNo,” Marcus replied slowly. “The difference is . . . he can do both. It’s not simply word games.”
    â€œYou mean you think the business with the bread was real? On the journey from the Galil I thought about trying to explain that to Pilate and knew I couldn’t. It’s part of the reason I drew back from denouncing Yeshua. Why should he suffer for something I can’t understand?”
    â€œNakdimon ben Gurion, the Jew you met who is on their supreme council . . .”
    Felix acknowledged that he remembered Nakdimon’s credentials.
    Marcus continued. “Nakdimon is also studying Yeshua’s claims. I’d like to speak to him more about it.”
    Shrugging, Felix said, “You don’t need my permission for that. Our job is to see that Governor Pilate’s aqueduct gets built and that bar Abba’s rebels are either captured or driven into their caves. As long as Yeshua speaks no treason he can be whatever kind of miracle worker he fancies. But he should stay away from Jerusalem.”
    â€œPilate still doesn’t understand the Jews,” Marcus said at last, unwilling to unveil any further his thoughts about the Rabbi of Nazareth.
    â€œWhat makes you say that? Their own Council voted him the money from their Temple treasury to complete the aqueduct. Everyone knows how badly Jerusalem needs it. He’ll be a hero.”
    Shaking his head, Marcus disagreed. “Nakdimon told me the money was Korban, sacred to their God. Hear me, Felix. It will cause more turmoil than hanging the face of the emperor over their Temple Mount.”
    â€œBut they need the water . . . and their own leaders agreed to the arrangement. Surely the rabble will see reason!”
    â€œI hope you’re right,” Marcus conceded. Then as an afterthought he asked, “Did you get one of the new coins?”
    Felix