The Soldier Who Killed a King by David Kitz

Author:David Kitz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kregel Publications
Published: 2017-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

25

Seven fifty in the morning, Friday, April 7

JESUS HAD SURVIVED Herod. This was no small feat, in my estimation.

In reality he had totally dominated Herod. Without speaking a word, he had thrown him into a state of raving lunacy. Without raising his voice above a whisper, he had stilled the raging voice of hell. Without moving a hand, he had reduced this pretentious monarch to a pathetic fool, groveling and naked.

I was both impressed and confounded by what I had witnessed. His power baffled me. It was from another realm. Of that I was convinced.

He was the master of the events around him, not the victim. One couldn’t help but feel that this was a drama of his own choosing, and we—all of us—were somehow players in it. We were players moving at his discretion, and at any moment he could step out of this drama, if he saw fit. Undoubtedly, the unfolding script for this play was written well in advance, and he was following it—following it to a destination he had chosen.

For the first time I began to actively hope for his release. I wanted free of this.

As once again I helped him on the stairs, I took courage and glanced into his eyes. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then this was a very different soul. It appeared to me that the wellspring of eternity was in residence there.

I felt so very small.

For those twelve steps down, our roles were reversed. I felt I was the weaker brother.

The same pikemen who had escorted us into the fortress were waiting to escort us back out. As our party stepped into view, the expectant mob on the street erupted with the cry, “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

They were vociferous.

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Leading the chant was an immaculately robed man. Unlike the masses, he faced the crowd and urged them on—the portly commander of his bloodthirsty cohorts. “Crucify him! Crucify him!” he bawled with his arms raised.

“Crucify him! Crucify him!” the crowd echoed.

As he swung around, I caught sight of his face. It was Timaeus. There was bloody determination in his eye. This was a battle he and his fellow merchants intended to win. A human sea of hatred urged him on.

The pikemen’s magic had lost some of its charm. The men on the street moved when confronted with the point of a spear, but there was a belligerence there I hadn’t noticed an hour ago.

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Some began to hurl dust in the air. I feared stones would come next.

We rounded the turret.

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”

They pressed in behind us as we advanced. Seething shouts lashed the air.

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”

I felt genuine relief when we reached the safety of our line of pikemen on the Praetorium steps. What a different response to this man from what I saw Sunday!

Jonathon and the guards with him rejoined Caiaphas and Annas on the third step. The high priest’s appointed delegates were soon in animated conversation with their master. I

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