Roberts stood to run but was barely on his feet when the first of several stones pummeled his body, hurled by the Levites and Jewish men. Roberts staggered forward until a large stone hit his head, creating a sound like a breaking coconut. Roberts’s body went lax and flopped onto the stone floor.
“Quickly,” said one of the Levites, “remove his body before the Romans see what we have done.”
The seven Jewish men rushed forward and picked Roberts up. They carried his body away quickly, supervised by the two Levites. As the group exited into a side passageway, one of the Levites turned to Tom and David and said, “Well done, brothers. Your alert kept the house of God from being defiled by this man. God will reward your service.”
With that, the group of men disappeared with Roberts’s body, leaving Tom and David alone in the Court of the Israel.
David covered his mouth in disgust and sat down. Tom ran to where the fight had taken place and took the knife, watch and silenced handgun. He tucked them inside his own robe and ran back to David. “Let’s go,” he said. “I don’t want to be here to answer questions. Do you?”
“He died to protect time,” David said. “If only he’d have given us a chance to explain. He would have known that time is in no danger.”
“Stupid people die stupid deaths, David, and I don’t want to be next. Let’s go.”
David got to his feet silently. He had never seen a man killed before. Captain Roberts was an evil man who wanted to kill both him and Tom, yet David couldn’t help feel sorry for the man. His stomach turned as the image of Roberts’s death replayed in his mind. But what worried David the most was that he knew he would soon see another man die, the ramifications of which would change the world forever.
Tom and David headed through the Nicanor gate and into the Court of the Women. As the gate opened, a sound hit them, like waves of static. They knew the noise couldn’t be good, as did everyone else in the temple, all of whom began hurrying toward the exit.
The crowd of concerned worshipers flooded out of the Temple, pulling Tom and David with them. Once outside the Court of the Gentiles, the static became clear and they could hear the chanting of hundreds, maybe thousands of people repeating the same word, over and over, “CRUCIFY! CRUCIFY! CRUCIFY!”
TWENTY
Verdict
30 A.D.
Tom was horrified by the events of the past few hours. Jesus had been taken and beaten. He had been whipped, beaten again and then made to carry a large wooden cross to a hill, while people who, only a week ago had welcomed him with cheers and palm branches, now taunted him with insults and stones. Then came the clanging of metal upon metal as Jesus’s wrists were pierced by large nails, binding him to the wood like a plank. After hearing Jesus’s screams, Tom had left, knowing that if he heard the tortured sound of his friend again he might go to the future and return with an assault rifle.
Hours later, Tom and David had struggled against the crowd of onlookers to reach Jesus, to see their friend before he died, but the crowd was too thick and unfriendly to recognizable followers of the man they had nailed to a cross. Tom and David retreated to a hillside opposite Golgotha-which resembled the shape of a human skull-atop which the Romans had crucified three men. Even from his distant viewpoint, Tom could see the stained dirt coating the top of Golgotha. He could see blood dripping from Jesus, his friend, hanging on a cross, twitching and dying for teaching his beliefs- how could these people think that deserved death? It was almost too surreal to believe.
Standing beside Tom in equal shock and horror were David, Matthew, Peter, Mary, Martha and Lazarus. They stood silently on the hill, watching, waiting for the inevitable, afraid that any utterance, any disturbance might permanently break their spirits. But when a voice broke through the air, it wasn’t one of them; it was Jesus, pushing out his words with his last breath.
“My God, My God,” Jesus’s voice echoed from Golgotha, “Why have you forsaken me?”
The voice of Jesus was recognizable, but it was coarse, filled with anguish. Then Jesus’s body went limp, hanging tight on the nails in his wrists and feet. Tom found his face wet and his throat constricting. Tom fell to his knees and wept quietly, completely unaware of how his friends were reacting.
Mary crumpled into tears and fell toward the ground. Lazarus saw Mary fall through his clouded, moist eyes and caught her just before her head hit the ground. Martha was wailing loudly into Matthew’s chest as he held her tightly. Peter stormed off in a rage, cursing the Romans and Pharisees under his breath. And David… Tom looked up at David who was crying, but not like everyone else, who had seen a friend die that they would never see again. David was smiling through his tears.
Confused thoughts raced through Tom’s mind in an effort to make sense of David’s reaction. Could David really be so confident that Jesus would rise again that he could smile at Jesus’s death? Did he really have that much hope? Was he really that naive?
Tom became aware of his surroundings again and heard Mary crying. As he stood and walked to her, she saw him coming and fell into his arms. Tom held Mary as tightly as he could and she squeezed back. They had both felt the pain of loss before, but now they each had someone to share it with. Tom placed his cheek against hers and held her head in his hand.
“Take me home,” she said.
Tom looked toward David, “David.”
David had watched Tom with Mary. He had heard her request. “Go.”
With nothing else to be said, Tom turned with Mary and they left. Lazarus and Martha followed close behind.
David turned his gaze back to Jesus on the cross. Matthew stood next to him. “You’re the most faithful man I’ve had the pleasure of knowing,” Matthew said.
“Not faithful enough,” David replied, as he looked at Matthew, who appeared uncommonly small.
“None of us are,” Matthew said.
The two stared at Jesus for a few moments, watching as the bloodthirsty crowd dispersed. Matthew shook his head. “I better find Peter before he gets into trouble.”
David nodded and placed his hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “Until he rises again.”
Matthew smiled. “Indeed.”
With that, Matthew headed down the hill, leaving David alone.
After a step forward, and then another, David found himself walking toward Jesus at a steady pace. He reached the bottom of the hill, looked up at Golgotha and could no longer see Jesus or the cross. David started up the hill and became aware of how few people were still around. And those that remained were leaving.
The top of Golgotha came quickly as David walked forward, keeping his eyes on his feet. When the dirt beneath his feet turned red, David stopped. He stood still, afraid to look up, afraid to see what he had only witnessed from a distance. But his eyes wandered briefly and found the bottom of a wooden post. He followed the post up and froze on a pair of pierced, bloody feet: Jesus’s feet.
David looked up all at once and found Jesus, hanging on the cross, dead. His wrists were nailed to the wood by what looked like railroad spikes, as were his feet, and his side was wet with what remained of Jesus’s coagulating blood, where a Roman guard had stabbed him after his death. Above Jesus’s head, written in Greek were the words: Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews. David’s knees shook and gave way. He fell into a kneeling position and found his emotions exploding. He was crying uncontrollably, sobbing loudly. His nose became blocked with mucus. His eyes clouded with thick tears. His head pounded with every quickening heartbeat.
“I’m sorry,” he said like a child pleading to angry parents. “I’m so sorry.”
David’s memories of Jesus were triggered and he remembered their first encounter on the Mount of Olives. David had lost control of his emotions on that day as well. And Jesus had stopped his outburst by reaching out, touching David and saying, “Peace be with you.” But Jesus wouldn’t be reaching out for David today. He wouldn’t be calming David with kind words. Well, David thought, at least things couldn’t get any worse than this.