Prologue
Outside of the City of Jerusalem, Fall, AD 33
The fire crackled and sparked as Lucius added a log to the blaze. Glowing embers rose into the air in such a number it seemed as if they were vying with the stars in the clear, fall sky. The air felt cool compared to the hot days in the Judean hills around Jerusalem.
Little rain had fallen over the past few months—not unusual in itself, but it added to the feeling of parchedness that everyone in the camp felt, day in and day out. All yearned for grain and meat from the Valley of Jezreel and the seaside valleys. A continuous diet of bread, grapes, olives, pomegranates, and figs was getting old. A fresh lamb would be a delicacy.
The camp lay in a small valley outside the walled city of Jerusalem; it housed over a thousand people. Most were Jews who had come from other areas of Judea and Galilee for the Festival of Shavuot and stayed because of their conversion to the teachings of Jesus. As the camp was within walking distance of Jerusalem, many others, who also were Followers of the teachings of Jesus, lived in the city.
The original apostles of Jesus went into the city and to the Temple to preach almost every day. The movement grew as Jesus’ teachings were spoken boldly and truthfully. Members shared their belongings for the good of the people, and no one went hungry or cold.
The seven men who sat around the fire on this cool autumn night said little. They were tired after another long day serving the needs of the camp residents. Despite appearances, they were very close and valued each other’s friendships. They each had a distinctive look about them, as if they had come from a different part of the world—and indeed, they had.
Ezra, the chatty one of the group, broke the silence. “I’m going to have to search for more tents tomorrow. It seems we are running low.” A merchant and broker of fine goods, he worked for Cadmus the Roman as his agent in Judea. He was a resourceful man with many contacts and knew how to find the supplies and food the camp needed from other merchants in the area.
“We added ten new families today,” said Thaddaeus. “Only two bothered to bring their own tents. I was lucky to find others who would take them in tonight.” Tall and thin, with a close-cropped beard and curly hair that he kept cut just below his ears, Thaddaeus walked with a slight limp, as a result of a childhood accident. In the three years that Jesus had been their rabbi, Thaddaeus had helped to keep things organized. He also helped plan events and arrange lodging for the Followers of Jesus as they traveled throughout the region. Now, Thaddaeus served the camp in an administrative role.
“You mean Magdala found them a place, don’t you?” corrected Simon. Stocky and strong, Simon had been forced to carry the cross of Jesus in the procession to Golgotha on that fateful day. It had profoundly affected him.
They all smiled and nodded. Mary of Magdala, one of Jesus’ closest friends, had taken it upon herself to become the “manager” of the camp. Nothing happened in the camp without her knowing about it. All the men were smart enough not to argue with her decisions.
“How many does that make now?” asked Tavee, a farmer and merchant from the Judean valley town of Lydda near the Great Sea. Along with his wife, Mikaela, they created unique pottery that they sold in the marketplace of Jerusalem.
Thaddaeus replied, “By my count, we have over 600 tents with over a thousand men, not counting women and children. I do not know how we continue to feed them all.”
“By the grace of God,” replied Andrew, brother of Simon Peter. All grew solemn and stared into the fire.
“Well, a bit of good bartering never hurts either,” joked Ezra, and they all chuckled.
“Andrew, is the leadership aware of the increasing anger towards us among the Council in the city?” Simon asked. “From what my sources are telling me, Stephen has really stirred up the Pharisees and the Elders. This is more serious than when you and Peter embarrassed them earlier this summer. I don’t know how much more they are going to take. There is one Pharisee in particular—Saul—who appears to be looking for a fight. We need to be cautious.”
Andrew was silent as the group stared at him expectantly. They knew that as Simon Peter’s brother, Andrew was a part of the inner circle of the leadership of The Way. He would know of any plans. “Our situation here is not permanent, that much we know. We will rely on God’s wisdom and mercy to guide us,” he said.
The men gazed into the fire and pondered what he meant.
“Allow me to say,” said Cadmus, “that I find it almost implausible that we are here at all. None of us would have guessed we’d be around this fire a year ago. The circumstances that have led us to be here tonight, sharing this time, are truly remarkable.” Cadmus was clearly out of his element here. A Roman Patrician and importer, he was more accustomed to fine dining than a bonfire. Even so, somehow he fit in with this group. Cadmus wore his mahogany brown hair short on the sides but longer and wavy on top. He endured shaving every day, as the elite of Rome was fond of appearing clean-shaven.
“Lucius, in any other setting, you’d be trying to kill me with that big knife of yours.”
“You have no idea, Roman,” cracked Lucius with a twinkle in his eye. The brother of Simon, Lucius had a rough look about him, as well as he should have. A man of the desert, he had fought the Romans in any way he could since childhood. Lucius spoke gruffly and lowly when he did speak, which was seldom. One disagreed with Lucius at their own peril. “Fortunately, you have wine.”
“And a lot of it!” Cadmus said hastily, with a smile.
The mood lightened instantly as the group relaxed, trusting in the friendship they all felt for each other.
“Say, Cadmus,” asked Simon. “Just how did a Roman become a part of our group?”
“Oh, come now, you have heard this story many times over.”
“Perhaps. But I’m still suspicious. Convince me once more,” Simon quipped with a gleam in his eye.
Everyone laughed as Cadmus reached for the jug of wine.
“You’re all going to need to fill up. This takes a while. Oh, and Lucius… put another log on the fire.”
