Jerusalem's Hope by Brock Thoene

Yeshua.”
    â€œYes. Everyone in the Galil has found him. And what did you see?” Nakdimon inquired.
    â€œDeborah got sick. Yeshua came with his talmidim. He put everyone out of the house except her mother and father. A handful of others. And then she woke up.”
    â€œShe was . . . very ill.”
    â€œDead, I’d say.” The boy was matter-of-fact in his report.
    â€œYes. So it seemed.”
    â€œYou doubt it now that you’re a few days down the road. But I saw what I saw. And you saw it too.” Avel covered his legs with the fresh straw. “What will you tell them?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe important men who give charity straw to the quarry Sparrows? The men who sit in the marble halls of the council chamber? The ones who sent you to bring a report?”
    â€œYou know a lot for a young boy.”
    â€œI carried the torches through the streets of Yerushalayim for the likes of your honor. Such important men often talk in front of Sparrows as if we’re deaf. Or very dumb. But we’re not. And so ask a little bird what secrets there are in Yerushalayim. We can tell more than you think.”
    â€œYou’re a clever lad. Would you like to come back to the city with me? Tell what you saw and heard to the learned rabbi Gamaliel?”
    Avel shook his head firmly. “We’re going to Beth-lehem.”
    â€œWhy Beth-lehem?” It was a curious choice for a destination. Beth-lehem was an inconsequential village, mostly inhabited by shepherds. It was near the place where Rachel, wife of the patriarch Jacob, died giving birth to the youngest of Jacob’s children. Her tomb was there still.
    â€œTo Migdal Eder.”
    â€œThe Tower of the Flock? But why?” Nakdimon’s interest was further aroused. There had always been a watchtower for the shepherds called Migdal Eder, ever since Jacob’s day. Jacob, renamed Isra’el by the Lord God, had pitched his tents there, raised his flocks there, and reared his brood of twelve sons there.
    â€œI have a message to carry to someone.”
    â€œThe message being?”
    Avel shook his head. “I’m only to mention it to the one it’s for.”
    Nakdimon raised his eyebrows. “Well, then. Take your message to Beth-lehem and then come back to Yerushalayim. You give your report, and I promise I’ll find an apprenticeship for you. What occupation would you like to learn?”
    â€œI wanted to kill Romans. But I changed my mind.” Avel glanced down at Emet’s bloody feet. “Maybe a shoemaker. I’d make Emet a pair of shoes to fit his feet.”
    â€œCome along with me to the Holy City. Testify to what you saw in regard to your rebel friends and Yeshua, and I’ll find you a position.”
    The child studied the crust of barley bread in his hand. “You saw what I saw. And you’re a ruler of Israel. They’ll take your word for it over mine.”
    â€œI’d like them to hear you.”
    â€œNo, your honor, thank you. Now I’m a messenger.”
    Nakdimon probed. “What message? Who at Migdal Eder are you to see?” Was this a hint at rebellion? Clever. Who would suspect a child to carry word of Galilean revolt to the shepherds of the flock? It was a possibility.
    Avel’s mouth clamped tight. Had he read Nakdimon’s curiosity as a threat? Yes. Perhaps it was a threat. What if these three children were part of the rebel band from the north? Did they bring some plan for revolution? The shepherds of Migdal Eder had easy access to the Temple when they brought their flocks in from Beth-lehem.
    Nakdimon had pushed too hard. Avel was not talking. The boy slipped down into the bedding and squeezed his eyes shut. Avel was not asleep, Nakdimon knew, but he was finished with this conversation.
    A wave of weariness washed over Nakdimon. He tucked his chin against his chest and finally drifted off.

ELOHIM
    T he next day it was not much out