The Messiah's Sign Chapter One:
Chapter One
Circa 20 A.D.
The whinny of horses pierced the night sky, echoed by the laughter of soldiers as the shadows of their plumed helmets glided against the wall. Smoke enveloped Tyrus. He stumbled out of the hut, gasping for breath and fighting the panic that shrouded him. The eerie glow of the flames danced like a pagan ritual upon the grass as he escaped the inferno.
"Tyrus! Tyrus, help me!" His little sister's desperate screams came from inside the hut.
Flames from the window frame clawed at him as Tyrus tried to reach inside. He held out as long as he could, but the sleeve of his tunic smoldered, his arm inflamed. "Topaz! Topaz, can you hear me? Where are you?"
No voice. Only crackling wood and bursting clay vessels.
He ripped off his outer tunic and tried to extinguish the flames around the window so he could get inside, but the fire was too hot and consumed the silk fabric.
"Topaz!"
The blood in his veins seemed cold as he bolted back to the door of the hut. It too was a ring of fire, but if he could make it through, perhaps he could find her and drag her out.
His pulse thundered in his ears. His arms quivered. He backed up to get a running start. Deep breath. One step, two steps, three. He was about to make the leap into the house, when the roof collapsed sending sparks and fiery debris in every direction. He fell backwards, and a gust of air escaped his lungs.
*****
Tyrus sat up choking for breath. The back of his throat burned, as if the smoke had been more than a dream. His wife slept soundly beside him, and all was still in the dark house, but the panic and turmoil he'd felt so many years ago churned inside him once more. He got up and opened the shutters, took deep breaths of the midnight air in an attempt to slow his breathing.
So many years ago, yet the incident was still so real, so raw. And it was still his fault. His parents' hearts had been broken, their family fractured. He could not save his little sister, so she had burned alive in a deserted hut. By the time they reached their new home in Capernaum, they
had nothing left. Their flight from Rome had cost them their livelihood, friends, everything they had, even the life of their youngest child. It had taken years for them to regain their footing, but none of them was ever the same.
Aaliyah stirred when he lay down again, but her breathing remained steady. He was exhausted from the panic and sorrow his dream had inflicted. He closed his eyes and saw his sister's beautiful face before him. Her perfect, dimpled smile etched on her four-year-old features. He saw her often, dreamed about her, still wept over her, but tonight, while he lay there, she was more real than ever before. As if she drew close to him.
He felt a hand slip into his. It was Topaz. Those dark eyes shone up at him like jewels. "Hello, brother."
A tear trickled down his cheek at the sound of her sweet voice. "Topaz, I am sorry."
Her finger pressed to her lips as her eyes sparkled playfully.
He opened his arms to her, and she jumped into them. Her pudgy arms encircled his neck. Was it a vision? A dream? Had he died? Whatever it was, he did not want to let go. He had dreamt of his little sister before, but she was always far away, begging him to save her. This time, it was different.
She pulled away from him and held out her hand. In her palm was a topaz-colored stone threaded by a piece of twine.
His brows knit together. "How did you get this? Aaliyah gave this stone to me years ago, before we were married, when I rescued her kitten from the cistern." He remembered the day well. He had bound the stone to a piece of twine and worn it close to his heart.
Topaz turned, as if a voice was calling her, and when her gaze returned, her expression was changed. Tears of sadness threatened to spill. Her small hand again took his. "Walk with me, Tyrus. I need to show you."
She led him into the courtyard. A ray of light illuminated everything around them. Topaz's chubby finger pointed, and Tyrus' gaze followed the direction she indicated. There, his wife sobbed in a dark corner.
"Aaliyah? What is it?"
His wife ignored him. She flung something across the room. It made a pinging sound as it bounced off the floor and rolled to a stop at his feet. He bent down and scooped it up. It was the golden bracelet he gave her upon their betrothal. His mouth dropped open. "Aaliyah?"
His wife draped herself in a black cloak, and after turning to give the house one last look, she left. His brow wrinkled as he looked back at his sister, still holding his hand.
"I am sorry, Tyrus. It will be hard for you. Be brave."
"I do not understand. Where is she going?"
Topaz led him to the door, and looking out, they watched Aaliyah slink along the city streets, hiding beneath her cloak. At last, she stopped and waited. A man approached her and began talking to her.
A hint of jealousy prodded Tyrus' heart. It was the first tinge of its kind he'd ever experienced. "Who is that? What is he saying to her?"
Topaz remained silent.
His gaze returned to his wife, who had crumpled to the ground, weeping. The man took her hands in his and raised her up. They stood for several moments, such love emanating from the man's eyes.
"No, it cannot be. Aaliyah would never be unfaithful to me. Sister, please tell me what this means."
Still Topaz said nothing.
He turned again, but Aaliyah and the man were both gone. Tyrus shook his head. "I do not understand this."
"Be brave, Tyrus." Topaz squeezed his hand. "Be brave." She backed away from him, and everything went dark.
*****
Tyrus' eyes fluttered open. It was morning. His fist gripped the topaz stone that still hung about his neck. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It must have been a dream. Only a dream. Thanks be to God.
He could hear Aaliyah moving about in the kitchen. He paused in the doorway and watched her. Her hands gripped the grinding stone as she goaded it back and forth. She swept the crumbles into her small hands, poured them into a pot, and hummed as she stirred it.
He shuffled into the room and stretched. He brain drummed a war march against his temples, and he felt more tired now than when he had gone to sleep. The day's work before him seemed daunting. Why did dreams have to disturb your sleep when you needed it most? He realized Aaliyah was talking to him.
"Did the sun sneak up on you today?" Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, but her comment annoyed him. If she only knew.
"I did not sleep well." He went to the jug and splashed water on his face hoping to avoid further discussion. It didn't work.
"You tossed and turned all night; I dodged several blows from you." She offered him his breakfast, but when he reached out, she held it back. "Tell me, Tyrus, have you taken to beating your good wife in your sleep?"
"Perhaps if I did, she would behave during the day." He should not have said that. He could not hold his dreams against her. She wasn't guilty, at least as far as he knew. He smiled hoping to soften the effect of his comment and tugged the plate from her grasp, escaping into the dining room.
He had but a moment to gather his thoughts before she followed. She sat down across from him, mixing something in a bowl. He guessed it must be for the Passover meal that night.
"What disturbed your sleep, my husband?"
Why did she have to ask questions? What was he supposed to tell her?
"Dreams." He hoped the grumbled answer would satisfy.
"Dreams? What kind of dreams?"
He shoved the last bite of food into his mouth and muttered an answer. "Never mind them now. Passover is tonight, and we have a great deal of work to do. The caravan I sent to Jerusalem is returning today, and I must inventory the merchandise before my patrons show up to buy it all. I will bring our lamb in later." He moved away, hiding a grimace as he bolted for the gate. He had to get away before she pried more.
"Good morning, sir." His apprentice greeted him as he entered the shop. Portions of the shelves were bare and dust swirled in the sun's rays. "I have set up the pens for the sheep. I also moved the tapestries to make room for the other Passover items as you requested."
"Well done, Kish. I am glad you got an early start. There is much work to be done today." His apprentice glowed with the praise and continued his work.
The city gates creaked as they were forced open, and commerce began. The groaning of camels and the bleating of sheep announced the arrival of the caravan. They herded the sheep into the pens Kish had set up, and unloaded bags of salt, grains, figs, nuts and other items needed for the celebration.
Tyrus took the inventory scroll from Caleb, the caravan master. "Get these things unloaded and set up as quickly as possible. I will take care of the tribute."
He stepped over to the tax collector's booth and presented the scroll. He tried to be civil to the man as he scrutinized the list. How a Jew could be a Roman tax collector, he would never know. The coins jingled as he poured them into the collector's hand.
"Caesar thanks you."
Hatred rose with the bile in his throat, at the mention of the Roman leader. He could taste its bitterness as he remembered the Roman patrol that had pursued his family the night they'd fled from Rome, attempting to burn them all in their sleep. They had escaped the flames. Except Topaz. Since that day, he despised anything Roman. He was relieved when his father chose to settle in Capernaum, a peaceful fishing village rather than the capital of Jerusalem swarming with Roman soldiers at every corner. But they still had to pay the taxes.
He swallowed the bad taste in his mouth and went back to business. His wife and son were standing near the shop talking to Kish when a commotion in a nearby street attracted their attention.
"No! Have mercy! Please husband, mercy!"
His heart clenched as a man hauled his screaming wife out of a house.
"Silence, you insolent whore. How dare you...and in my own house! No, woman. You deserve what is coming to you." The man's words made Tyrus sick. The man would throw his wife before a priest, and she would undoubtedly be stoned before the next hour.
With his dream flashing before him, he could not help but observe his own wife. She seemed tense and disturbed by the sight, which served to worsen the sinking feeling in his stomach.
"You look a little pale Aaliyah." He forced himself to look her in the eye. "Does this scene bother you?"
Guilt stabbed him the moment her eyes widened with shock. But what else was he to do? Somehow he had to find out if there was any truth to his dreams. If he could catch her before she went too far, perhaps he could somehow prevent the worst.
Tyrus decided the best solution would be to let it go for now and turned back to his work. Aaliyah mumbled something about leaving Malon and went back to the house. He felt terrible, but could he help it that the dream haunted him?
"Abba, look at this." Malon ran up to him with a huge smile. "I know how to blow it." He held a small shofar up to his lips and blew into it. A squeaking sort of gurgle came out. The smile again spread across his face.
Tyrus chuckled. "Well done. How would you like to have a shofar of your very own?"
Malon's eyes widened. "Could I, Abba?"
"It is yours." He ruffled his son's curly hair. He was so grateful for his boy. The child brought light even to his darkest days.
The afternoon waned by the time they finished unloading the goods. Rabbi Ben-Elior approached and rested a hand on a pen post. "Shalom, Tyrus. I need to purchase one of your lambs for our Passover."
"No need," Tyrus said without looking up. "For you, the lamb is a gift." He set down a crate and rubbed the sweat from his neck.
"That's very kind of you." The rabbi adjusted his turban. "Are you well? You look pale."
Tyrus ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I confess I am troubled. Would you have time for a discussion today?"
"For the friend that provides my Passover lamb, I always have time."
"I have to take ours home to Aaliyah. If you will walk to the house with me, we can dress your lamb as well. Then we can talk."
"Sounds acceptable to me. Come, Malon, let me show you how to examine a Passover lamb." The rabbi took a lamb under his arm and pried open its mouth. "You see, this lamb has only milk teeth. That means this is indeed a lamb of the first year, as Moses instructed us." He turned the lamb around and ran his fingers through its wool. "Do you see any spots or blemishes on this lamb, Malon?"
Malon squinted and leaned close to the sheep. "No, I see nothing."
The rabbi ran careful fingers through the animal's wool, and inspected it from head to hoof. "Neither do I. This lamb is acceptable."
Ben-Elior handed the lamb to Malon and selected another for his own. Together they walked to the house. Tyrus set Malon to work sweeping the courtyard so he and the rabbi could work and talk in private.
Tyrus had a place set up to dress the animals. They washed, rolled up their sleeves and set to work.
"Each Passover I am reminded of the promise of our coming Messiah. Isaiah speaks of the Him being led as a lamb to the slaughter, as a righteous servant He will bear the iniquities of the people." The rabbi shook his head. "I do not know if I will ever understand what that means. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
Tyrus inhaled deeply, and gathered his thoughts. "Last night, I had a dream. It was unlike any other, and troubles me."
"Go on."
"Last night, I saw my little sister."
"Tzivyah?"
"No, my baby sister, Topaz. She died on the journey when my family fled from Rome. I have dreamt of her many times, calling my name and crying for me to save her, but this was different."
Tyrus paused, trying to suppress the grimace surfacing on his face. "Topaz said there was something she needed to show me. She led me by the hand, and I saw my wife. Aaliyah was unhappy. In anger, she cast aside our engagement bracelet, then went lurking about the city streets. She met a man, and they disappeared together."
The rabbi frowned and wiped his hands. "That is rather strange. Did your sister say anything else?"
"She said 'It will be hard for you.' and 'be brave.' Then she disappeared. It is just a dream, but..."
"Have you seen anything that would cause you to believe there is any truth to your dream?"
"I...I do not know. I cannot think of anything."
"Well, Tyrus, a dream is not enough to condemn her. I would urge you to be cautious, but if she is guilty, Jehovah will defend you. Her sins will find her out. Just be steady."
"Steady. That is easier said than done, Rabbi."
Malon galloped in on the broom. "Abba, I'm done with the sweeping."
"Good. Let me take the lamb to Imah, then we will walk the rabbi home."
"Yes! Can I see David while we are there, Rabbi? We are good friends. He plays ball with me all the time. Do you know what he did once? He threw the ball, and I ran to get it, but I couldn't get there fast enough..."
As Malon related his tale to the rabbi, Tyrus slipped inside to give the dressed meat to Aaliyah. Steady. He took a deep breath, determined to treat her as if nothing was different.
"Here is the lamb, Aaliyah. Where do you wish for me to put it?"
Aaliyah waved her knife in the direction of a bowl on the table. "Here."
Tyrus laid the meat in the indicated spot, and rinsed his hands of the sticky blood.
Aaliyah looked around. "Where is Malon?"
He chuckled, remembering the poor rabbi still being subjected to the endless chatter of a six year old. "He is outside. Rabbi Ben-Elior came by, and Malon is talking his ear off." He gave her a sly grin and added, "That boy has your tongue."
She gave him half a smile. Apparently, she did not appreciate his sarcasm as much as he did.
"Oh!"
Tyrus was alarmed to see a stream of dark red gushing from her cradled finger. Aaliyah muttered something under her breath. "Tyrus, hand me that towel, would you?"
He tossed the towel and again tried a bit of humor. "Woman, you really need to be more careful. I do not care for blood in my food. It violates our kosher laws." He hoped he could make up for his sharp comment earlier in the marketplace.
The wound still gushed a dark crimson stream. That concerned him. "You have a rather deep cut."
"I will be fine. It does not hurt much. You had best get back to Malon."
As he took her hand to examine the wound, her sleeve fell back exposing gruesome purple splotches that almost looked like bruises. Her skin reminded him of chapped leather. "What is that?"
"I do not know. I must have bruised it, but I have not noticed it until now."
Tyrus searched her face. Did she speak the truth? Why did he get the feeling she was hiding something from him? She was suddenly sharp and dismissive.
By the time he rejoined Malon and Ben-Elior in the courtyard, Tyrus was more confused than ever. She claimed to have been so focused on Passover that she'd become careless, but if that was the case, why did she flat out refuse his offer to have Tzivyah come help her? Something was not right, and it left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Circa 20 A.D.
The whinny of horses pierced the night sky, echoed by the laughter of soldiers as the shadows of their plumed helmets glided against the wall. Smoke enveloped Tyrus. He stumbled out of the hut, gasping for breath and fighting the panic that shrouded him. The eerie glow of the flames danced like a pagan ritual upon the grass as he escaped the inferno.
"Tyrus! Tyrus, help me!" His little sister's desperate screams came from inside the hut.
Flames from the window frame clawed at him as Tyrus tried to reach inside. He held out as long as he could, but the sleeve of his tunic smoldered, his arm inflamed. "Topaz! Topaz, can you hear me? Where are you?"
No voice. Only crackling wood and bursting clay vessels.
He ripped off his outer tunic and tried to extinguish the flames around the window so he could get inside, but the fire was too hot and consumed the silk fabric.
"Topaz!"
The blood in his veins seemed cold as he bolted back to the door of the hut. It too was a ring of fire, but if he could make it through, perhaps he could find her and drag her out.
His pulse thundered in his ears. His arms quivered. He backed up to get a running start. Deep breath. One step, two steps, three. He was about to make the leap into the house, when the roof collapsed sending sparks and fiery debris in every direction. He fell backwards, and a gust of air escaped his lungs.
*****
Tyrus sat up choking for breath. The back of his throat burned, as if the smoke had been more than a dream. His wife slept soundly beside him, and all was still in the dark house, but the panic and turmoil he'd felt so many years ago churned inside him once more. He got up and opened the shutters, took deep breaths of the midnight air in an attempt to slow his breathing.
So many years ago, yet the incident was still so real, so raw. And it was still his fault. His parents' hearts had been broken, their family fractured. He could not save his little sister, so she had burned alive in a deserted hut. By the time they reached their new home in Capernaum, they
had nothing left. Their flight from Rome had cost them their livelihood, friends, everything they had, even the life of their youngest child. It had taken years for them to regain their footing, but none of them was ever the same.
Aaliyah stirred when he lay down again, but her breathing remained steady. He was exhausted from the panic and sorrow his dream had inflicted. He closed his eyes and saw his sister's beautiful face before him. Her perfect, dimpled smile etched on her four-year-old features. He saw her often, dreamed about her, still wept over her, but tonight, while he lay there, she was more real than ever before. As if she drew close to him.
He felt a hand slip into his. It was Topaz. Those dark eyes shone up at him like jewels. "Hello, brother."
A tear trickled down his cheek at the sound of her sweet voice. "Topaz, I am sorry."
Her finger pressed to her lips as her eyes sparkled playfully.
He opened his arms to her, and she jumped into them. Her pudgy arms encircled his neck. Was it a vision? A dream? Had he died? Whatever it was, he did not want to let go. He had dreamt of his little sister before, but she was always far away, begging him to save her. This time, it was different.
She pulled away from him and held out her hand. In her palm was a topaz-colored stone threaded by a piece of twine.
His brows knit together. "How did you get this? Aaliyah gave this stone to me years ago, before we were married, when I rescued her kitten from the cistern." He remembered the day well. He had bound the stone to a piece of twine and worn it close to his heart.
Topaz turned, as if a voice was calling her, and when her gaze returned, her expression was changed. Tears of sadness threatened to spill. Her small hand again took his. "Walk with me, Tyrus. I need to show you."
She led him into the courtyard. A ray of light illuminated everything around them. Topaz's chubby finger pointed, and Tyrus' gaze followed the direction she indicated. There, his wife sobbed in a dark corner.
"Aaliyah? What is it?"
His wife ignored him. She flung something across the room. It made a pinging sound as it bounced off the floor and rolled to a stop at his feet. He bent down and scooped it up. It was the golden bracelet he gave her upon their betrothal. His mouth dropped open. "Aaliyah?"
His wife draped herself in a black cloak, and after turning to give the house one last look, she left. His brow wrinkled as he looked back at his sister, still holding his hand.
"I am sorry, Tyrus. It will be hard for you. Be brave."
"I do not understand. Where is she going?"
Topaz led him to the door, and looking out, they watched Aaliyah slink along the city streets, hiding beneath her cloak. At last, she stopped and waited. A man approached her and began talking to her.
A hint of jealousy prodded Tyrus' heart. It was the first tinge of its kind he'd ever experienced. "Who is that? What is he saying to her?"
Topaz remained silent.
His gaze returned to his wife, who had crumpled to the ground, weeping. The man took her hands in his and raised her up. They stood for several moments, such love emanating from the man's eyes.
"No, it cannot be. Aaliyah would never be unfaithful to me. Sister, please tell me what this means."
Still Topaz said nothing.
He turned again, but Aaliyah and the man were both gone. Tyrus shook his head. "I do not understand this."
"Be brave, Tyrus." Topaz squeezed his hand. "Be brave." She backed away from him, and everything went dark.
*****
Tyrus' eyes fluttered open. It was morning. His fist gripped the topaz stone that still hung about his neck. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It must have been a dream. Only a dream. Thanks be to God.
He could hear Aaliyah moving about in the kitchen. He paused in the doorway and watched her. Her hands gripped the grinding stone as she goaded it back and forth. She swept the crumbles into her small hands, poured them into a pot, and hummed as she stirred it.
He shuffled into the room and stretched. He brain drummed a war march against his temples, and he felt more tired now than when he had gone to sleep. The day's work before him seemed daunting. Why did dreams have to disturb your sleep when you needed it most? He realized Aaliyah was talking to him.
"Did the sun sneak up on you today?" Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, but her comment annoyed him. If she only knew.
"I did not sleep well." He went to the jug and splashed water on his face hoping to avoid further discussion. It didn't work.
"You tossed and turned all night; I dodged several blows from you." She offered him his breakfast, but when he reached out, she held it back. "Tell me, Tyrus, have you taken to beating your good wife in your sleep?"
"Perhaps if I did, she would behave during the day." He should not have said that. He could not hold his dreams against her. She wasn't guilty, at least as far as he knew. He smiled hoping to soften the effect of his comment and tugged the plate from her grasp, escaping into the dining room.
He had but a moment to gather his thoughts before she followed. She sat down across from him, mixing something in a bowl. He guessed it must be for the Passover meal that night.
"What disturbed your sleep, my husband?"
Why did she have to ask questions? What was he supposed to tell her?
"Dreams." He hoped the grumbled answer would satisfy.
"Dreams? What kind of dreams?"
He shoved the last bite of food into his mouth and muttered an answer. "Never mind them now. Passover is tonight, and we have a great deal of work to do. The caravan I sent to Jerusalem is returning today, and I must inventory the merchandise before my patrons show up to buy it all. I will bring our lamb in later." He moved away, hiding a grimace as he bolted for the gate. He had to get away before she pried more.
"Good morning, sir." His apprentice greeted him as he entered the shop. Portions of the shelves were bare and dust swirled in the sun's rays. "I have set up the pens for the sheep. I also moved the tapestries to make room for the other Passover items as you requested."
"Well done, Kish. I am glad you got an early start. There is much work to be done today." His apprentice glowed with the praise and continued his work.
The city gates creaked as they were forced open, and commerce began. The groaning of camels and the bleating of sheep announced the arrival of the caravan. They herded the sheep into the pens Kish had set up, and unloaded bags of salt, grains, figs, nuts and other items needed for the celebration.
Tyrus took the inventory scroll from Caleb, the caravan master. "Get these things unloaded and set up as quickly as possible. I will take care of the tribute."
He stepped over to the tax collector's booth and presented the scroll. He tried to be civil to the man as he scrutinized the list. How a Jew could be a Roman tax collector, he would never know. The coins jingled as he poured them into the collector's hand.
"Caesar thanks you."
Hatred rose with the bile in his throat, at the mention of the Roman leader. He could taste its bitterness as he remembered the Roman patrol that had pursued his family the night they'd fled from Rome, attempting to burn them all in their sleep. They had escaped the flames. Except Topaz. Since that day, he despised anything Roman. He was relieved when his father chose to settle in Capernaum, a peaceful fishing village rather than the capital of Jerusalem swarming with Roman soldiers at every corner. But they still had to pay the taxes.
He swallowed the bad taste in his mouth and went back to business. His wife and son were standing near the shop talking to Kish when a commotion in a nearby street attracted their attention.
"No! Have mercy! Please husband, mercy!"
His heart clenched as a man hauled his screaming wife out of a house.
"Silence, you insolent whore. How dare you...and in my own house! No, woman. You deserve what is coming to you." The man's words made Tyrus sick. The man would throw his wife before a priest, and she would undoubtedly be stoned before the next hour.
With his dream flashing before him, he could not help but observe his own wife. She seemed tense and disturbed by the sight, which served to worsen the sinking feeling in his stomach.
"You look a little pale Aaliyah." He forced himself to look her in the eye. "Does this scene bother you?"
Guilt stabbed him the moment her eyes widened with shock. But what else was he to do? Somehow he had to find out if there was any truth to his dreams. If he could catch her before she went too far, perhaps he could somehow prevent the worst.
Tyrus decided the best solution would be to let it go for now and turned back to his work. Aaliyah mumbled something about leaving Malon and went back to the house. He felt terrible, but could he help it that the dream haunted him?
"Abba, look at this." Malon ran up to him with a huge smile. "I know how to blow it." He held a small shofar up to his lips and blew into it. A squeaking sort of gurgle came out. The smile again spread across his face.
Tyrus chuckled. "Well done. How would you like to have a shofar of your very own?"
Malon's eyes widened. "Could I, Abba?"
"It is yours." He ruffled his son's curly hair. He was so grateful for his boy. The child brought light even to his darkest days.
The afternoon waned by the time they finished unloading the goods. Rabbi Ben-Elior approached and rested a hand on a pen post. "Shalom, Tyrus. I need to purchase one of your lambs for our Passover."
"No need," Tyrus said without looking up. "For you, the lamb is a gift." He set down a crate and rubbed the sweat from his neck.
"That's very kind of you." The rabbi adjusted his turban. "Are you well? You look pale."
Tyrus ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I confess I am troubled. Would you have time for a discussion today?"
"For the friend that provides my Passover lamb, I always have time."
"I have to take ours home to Aaliyah. If you will walk to the house with me, we can dress your lamb as well. Then we can talk."
"Sounds acceptable to me. Come, Malon, let me show you how to examine a Passover lamb." The rabbi took a lamb under his arm and pried open its mouth. "You see, this lamb has only milk teeth. That means this is indeed a lamb of the first year, as Moses instructed us." He turned the lamb around and ran his fingers through its wool. "Do you see any spots or blemishes on this lamb, Malon?"
Malon squinted and leaned close to the sheep. "No, I see nothing."
The rabbi ran careful fingers through the animal's wool, and inspected it from head to hoof. "Neither do I. This lamb is acceptable."
Ben-Elior handed the lamb to Malon and selected another for his own. Together they walked to the house. Tyrus set Malon to work sweeping the courtyard so he and the rabbi could work and talk in private.
Tyrus had a place set up to dress the animals. They washed, rolled up their sleeves and set to work.
"Each Passover I am reminded of the promise of our coming Messiah. Isaiah speaks of the Him being led as a lamb to the slaughter, as a righteous servant He will bear the iniquities of the people." The rabbi shook his head. "I do not know if I will ever understand what that means. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
Tyrus inhaled deeply, and gathered his thoughts. "Last night, I had a dream. It was unlike any other, and troubles me."
"Go on."
"Last night, I saw my little sister."
"Tzivyah?"
"No, my baby sister, Topaz. She died on the journey when my family fled from Rome. I have dreamt of her many times, calling my name and crying for me to save her, but this was different."
Tyrus paused, trying to suppress the grimace surfacing on his face. "Topaz said there was something she needed to show me. She led me by the hand, and I saw my wife. Aaliyah was unhappy. In anger, she cast aside our engagement bracelet, then went lurking about the city streets. She met a man, and they disappeared together."
The rabbi frowned and wiped his hands. "That is rather strange. Did your sister say anything else?"
"She said 'It will be hard for you.' and 'be brave.' Then she disappeared. It is just a dream, but..."
"Have you seen anything that would cause you to believe there is any truth to your dream?"
"I...I do not know. I cannot think of anything."
"Well, Tyrus, a dream is not enough to condemn her. I would urge you to be cautious, but if she is guilty, Jehovah will defend you. Her sins will find her out. Just be steady."
"Steady. That is easier said than done, Rabbi."
Malon galloped in on the broom. "Abba, I'm done with the sweeping."
"Good. Let me take the lamb to Imah, then we will walk the rabbi home."
"Yes! Can I see David while we are there, Rabbi? We are good friends. He plays ball with me all the time. Do you know what he did once? He threw the ball, and I ran to get it, but I couldn't get there fast enough..."
As Malon related his tale to the rabbi, Tyrus slipped inside to give the dressed meat to Aaliyah. Steady. He took a deep breath, determined to treat her as if nothing was different.
"Here is the lamb, Aaliyah. Where do you wish for me to put it?"
Aaliyah waved her knife in the direction of a bowl on the table. "Here."
Tyrus laid the meat in the indicated spot, and rinsed his hands of the sticky blood.
Aaliyah looked around. "Where is Malon?"
He chuckled, remembering the poor rabbi still being subjected to the endless chatter of a six year old. "He is outside. Rabbi Ben-Elior came by, and Malon is talking his ear off." He gave her a sly grin and added, "That boy has your tongue."
She gave him half a smile. Apparently, she did not appreciate his sarcasm as much as he did.
"Oh!"
Tyrus was alarmed to see a stream of dark red gushing from her cradled finger. Aaliyah muttered something under her breath. "Tyrus, hand me that towel, would you?"
He tossed the towel and again tried a bit of humor. "Woman, you really need to be more careful. I do not care for blood in my food. It violates our kosher laws." He hoped he could make up for his sharp comment earlier in the marketplace.
The wound still gushed a dark crimson stream. That concerned him. "You have a rather deep cut."
"I will be fine. It does not hurt much. You had best get back to Malon."
As he took her hand to examine the wound, her sleeve fell back exposing gruesome purple splotches that almost looked like bruises. Her skin reminded him of chapped leather. "What is that?"
"I do not know. I must have bruised it, but I have not noticed it until now."
Tyrus searched her face. Did she speak the truth? Why did he get the feeling she was hiding something from him? She was suddenly sharp and dismissive.
By the time he rejoined Malon and Ben-Elior in the courtyard, Tyrus was more confused than ever. She claimed to have been so focused on Passover that she'd become careless, but if that was the case, why did she flat out refuse his offer to have Tzivyah come help her? Something was not right, and it left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
This is the end of the excerpt, but you can keep reading!
(c) 2017 Amber Schamel This is a free sample. All rights reserved.