Read Online The Thief by Stephanie Landsem - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Landsem
Ads: Link
her hair.
Was he comforting her? Once the Sanhedrin passed sentence, they didn’t change their minds. The woman on the ground before him was as good as dead.
The Pharisee’s voice rose. “Have you nothing to say? This woman has broken the Law of Moses. She deserves to die for her sins.”
Still, the man didn’t speak. A hush spread over the crowd like a soft breeze. The man began to draw in the dust.
Nissa strained to see. He was writing letters, Hebrew letters. But what did they say?
The Pharisees peered at the ground. One drew in a sharp breath. Another’s face whitened, and he stumbled backward.
Finally, the one they called teacher stood. “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” He stared at each man in turn.
Nissa held her breath.
The first to falter was the oldest Pharisee. He muttered a word and turned, disappearing through the Beautiful Gate. The loud Pharisee backed away, then left with a sweep of tassels. One by one the others departed until there was only the watching crowd, the woman on the ground, and the strange man.
The teacher spoke to the woman. “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
She shook her head but didn’t look at him.
Nissa glanced sideways. Every face beside her showed shock; every ear strained to hear his words.
“Neither do I condemn you.” The man put his hand under her chin and raised her face to his. “Go and sin no more.”
Nissa let out a long breath.
Shouts and exclamations surged through the crowd.
“Who does he think he is?”
“Did you see what he wrote?”
Dismas ducked close to her. “Who is this Jew?” he whispered.
Nissa shook her head. Whoever he was, he’d saved a woman’s life after she’d been condemned by the most powerful men in Jerusalem. Who was this man who could defy the power of the Sanhedrin with words written in dust?
“He knew their sins. That must have been what he wrote. He can read souls.” Dismas’s face was pale, and his eyes were fixed on the man, still crouched in front of the woman. “Stay away from him. If he knew their sins, he’ll know ours.”
A quiver of fear ran through her. Could Dismas be right? The man had some knowledge about the Pharisees, something that made them flee.
A woman next to them tapped the Phoenician in front of her. “Who is this man?”
He spoke loudly over his shoulder. “His name is Jesus. He’s a prophet, from Nazareth.”
From Nazareth? Nissa tensed. Could he be the one Cedron spoke of, the one they claimed had cured the lame and restored sight to the blind? Was he a healer or a prophet? Or could he really know a person’s sins, like Dismas said?
Nissa edged backward into the crowd. She must put some distance between her and Dismas and get out of sight of these soldiers. If Dismas was right, she should stay away from this Jesus of Nazareth, but the crowd surged forward, taking her with them. The man named Jesus was speaking. Her breath caught as his words reached her.
“. . . be with you only a little while longer, and then I will go to the one who sent me. You will look for me but not find me, and where I am you cannot come.”
Did he mean he wouldn’t be at the temple tomorrow? Where I am you cannot come. Cedron would be crushed; all his prayers would be for nothing. Her stomach twisted into a knot. Even if it was just a foolish hope, she’d made a promise to get Cedron to this man.
Nissa glanced at the sky where the sun dipped low. Not long now before the last horns blew and the Sabbath was over. Surely the prophet wouldn’t leave before then. If she was fast, she could keep her promise to Cedron—find him and lead him to the man from Nazareth.
First, she’d settle up with Dismas. She found him working his way back through the crowd and pulled him behind the first row of columns in the Stoa. She fished two bangles and the jeweled brooch from her belt. “I have to go. Here’s your half.”
He shoved the treasure
Was he comforting her? Once the Sanhedrin passed sentence, they didn’t change their minds. The woman on the ground before him was as good as dead.
The Pharisee’s voice rose. “Have you nothing to say? This woman has broken the Law of Moses. She deserves to die for her sins.”
Still, the man didn’t speak. A hush spread over the crowd like a soft breeze. The man began to draw in the dust.
Nissa strained to see. He was writing letters, Hebrew letters. But what did they say?
The Pharisees peered at the ground. One drew in a sharp breath. Another’s face whitened, and he stumbled backward.
Finally, the one they called teacher stood. “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” He stared at each man in turn.
Nissa held her breath.
The first to falter was the oldest Pharisee. He muttered a word and turned, disappearing through the Beautiful Gate. The loud Pharisee backed away, then left with a sweep of tassels. One by one the others departed until there was only the watching crowd, the woman on the ground, and the strange man.
The teacher spoke to the woman. “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
She shook her head but didn’t look at him.
Nissa glanced sideways. Every face beside her showed shock; every ear strained to hear his words.
“Neither do I condemn you.” The man put his hand under her chin and raised her face to his. “Go and sin no more.”
Nissa let out a long breath.
Shouts and exclamations surged through the crowd.
“Who does he think he is?”
“Did you see what he wrote?”
Dismas ducked close to her. “Who is this Jew?” he whispered.
Nissa shook her head. Whoever he was, he’d saved a woman’s life after she’d been condemned by the most powerful men in Jerusalem. Who was this man who could defy the power of the Sanhedrin with words written in dust?
“He knew their sins. That must have been what he wrote. He can read souls.” Dismas’s face was pale, and his eyes were fixed on the man, still crouched in front of the woman. “Stay away from him. If he knew their sins, he’ll know ours.”
A quiver of fear ran through her. Could Dismas be right? The man had some knowledge about the Pharisees, something that made them flee.
A woman next to them tapped the Phoenician in front of her. “Who is this man?”
He spoke loudly over his shoulder. “His name is Jesus. He’s a prophet, from Nazareth.”
From Nazareth? Nissa tensed. Could he be the one Cedron spoke of, the one they claimed had cured the lame and restored sight to the blind? Was he a healer or a prophet? Or could he really know a person’s sins, like Dismas said?
Nissa edged backward into the crowd. She must put some distance between her and Dismas and get out of sight of these soldiers. If Dismas was right, she should stay away from this Jesus of Nazareth, but the crowd surged forward, taking her with them. The man named Jesus was speaking. Her breath caught as his words reached her.
“. . . be with you only a little while longer, and then I will go to the one who sent me. You will look for me but not find me, and where I am you cannot come.”
Did he mean he wouldn’t be at the temple tomorrow? Where I am you cannot come. Cedron would be crushed; all his prayers would be for nothing. Her stomach twisted into a knot. Even if it was just a foolish hope, she’d made a promise to get Cedron to this man.
Nissa glanced at the sky where the sun dipped low. Not long now before the last horns blew and the Sabbath was over. Surely the prophet wouldn’t leave before then. If she was fast, she could keep her promise to Cedron—find him and lead him to the man from Nazareth.
First, she’d settle up with Dismas. She found him working his way back through the crowd and pulled him behind the first row of columns in the Stoa. She fished two bangles and the jeweled brooch from her belt. “I have to go. Here’s your half.”
He shoved the treasure
Similar Books
