The Making of the Lamb (20 page)

“You spoil them too much, Kendrick,” said the wife. She hugged Jesus and Daniel, welcoming them. She was a strong woman with a kind, freckled face.

“Forgive me, Tilda.” Kendrick laughed. “I cannot help myself.”

“Come, let us retire to our home,” said Bannoch. “Your passengers must be weary from their journeys, and I will not be having them thinking ill of our hospitality.” With that, Bannoch signaled to the others that the excitement was over for now and that they should return to their daily tasks.

Tilda proudly showed off the family home. It was similar to the structures that Jesus had seen in the pirates’ lair, but instead of wattle and daub, the walls were of stonework integrated with the stone wall that surrounded the village proper. Although nothing was carved into the circular wall, pagan idols and trinkets hung from the rafters that supported the thatched roof. Animal-skin blankets covered a large bed for Bannoch and Tilda. Two piles of reeds were formed into crude mattresses covered with woolen blankets, evidently for the children.

A few of the villagers brought in more cuttings and quickly formed them into beddings. Tilda said that Kendrick and Joseph must take the big bed during their stay. Kendrick started to object, but it was useless to deny Tilda the chance to provide that measure of hospitality by giving up her own bed. The boys would sleep on the mattresses. Pirro volunteered to spend the night on the ship. Looking at Uncle Joseph, Jesus could tell Joseph was pleased for the chance to rest from his weary travels on a real bed.

Kendrick explained to Tilda that Joseph and his young charges could not eat pig or shellfish, but would be more than happy with any kind of mutton, beef, or scaled fish.

“But why do they deny the hospitality of the village? Surely, they do not think I would serve them meats with any harm in them,” Tilda responded. Bannoch frowned but said nothing, evidently yielding to her position as undisputed mistress in matters of the home.

Kendrick shook his head. “It’s no reflection on your hospitality. Jews must obey the commandments of their God from the east.” He paused. “It is like the
geisa
imposed upon the greatest Celtic heroes. Remember King Conaire, who was forbidden to kill birds. He was not allowed to go south around Tara or north around the plain of Brega. He was forbidden to hunt the wild beasts.”

“Yes, I remember what the druids taught me in my youth,” Bannoch interrupted. “King Conaire was like many heroes and kings who had so many prohibitions laid down on them that they could not possibly abide by them all.” He exchanged looks with Tilda. This was becoming a matter of honor and faith beyond his wife’s domestic authority; she would now defer to him. He withdrew his hand from his sword and smiled. “It is best to respect the obedience our guests render to their god. Otherwise that god might turn on us.”

Pirro happened to be standing next to Jesus. “Did you follow that?” Jesus asked him in a whisper.

“Kendrick lost me when he started going into the Celtic legend,” Pirro whispered in response. “The important thing is that he was able to appease Bannoch so quickly. The Dumnonii are incredibly gracious with their hospitality, but like all Celts they are quick to anger in response to any real or imagined slight. After a battle, they will even fight to the death in the banqueting hall if a warrior feels slighted because he is denied the best cut of meat—what they call the hero’s portion.”

“Very well,” Tilda said. “I must go to the banquet hall to prepare for a feast tomorrow, in honor of our guests.” She made a little bow toward Joseph, who nodded in return. “Golia, fetch some refreshments for cousin Kendrick and his friends.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Tilda left, and Golia turned to a little cupboard on the other side of the room and arranged bread and cheese on a platter.

“That looks delicious,” said Jesus, “and I appreciate your hospitality. But I’m not hungry, and if you will excuse me, I’d like to explore the village.” He turned to Uncle Joseph. “May I, Uncle?”

Joseph nodded his permission and said, “Yes, but don’t wander too far.”

Jesus leaned over to Daniel. “Shall we go explore?”

Daniel’s eyes remained on Golia. “Umm. No. I’ll stay here with…with Father.”

Joseph did look weary. And perhaps Daniel was hungry.

As he strolled through the hamlet, Jesus stopped occasionally to ask people how they worked their various crafts. About a dozen round huts built on similar stonework sides as the chief’s house made up the village proper within the confines of the surrounding stone wall. Other huts beyond the wall, where most of the workers appeared to live, had walls built from the same crude plaster construction he had seen in Bembont.

Most of the men and older boys had returned to their fields and herds across the hillsides. Those who remained in the village were mostly women, but a blacksmith and his helper worked on forging an iron plough tip in one of the stone huts.

A foul smell came from another hut, where a team of women tended a large, boiling pot. Jesus poked his head in and learned they were rendering water, animal fat, and ash into tallow for soap and candles.

In other huts, women worked spindles and looms, turning wool and flax fibers into cloth. A large, strong woman tanned hides while another made shoes. Some of the women worked outside, turning stone querns to grind whole grains into flour. In another hut, a woman brewed mead, which Jesus tasted and found rather to his liking.

Golia placed the wooden platter on the low table in front of Papa and asked a question in her unintelligible tongue. Daniel knew something of the speech from his previous visit, but the dialect he knew was from the eastern side of Britain. His skill was also wanting after his long absence.

Pirro said one thing, and Papa another.

Kendrick tousled Golia’s hair as if she were a boy, and then apparently excused himself, for he walked out.

Pirro sat cross-legged on the floor by the table and shoveled food into his mouth. Golia brought him a cup of wine. Mouth full, he grunted something that might have been thanks.

Golia turned her ocean-blue eyes on Daniel and said a single word.

“Umm…sorry?” he muttered.

“She asks whether you want some wine,” Papa said.

“Are you not having any?”

He chuckled. “Despite Jesus’s reassuring teaching on the matter, no.”

“Ah. How do I say ‘no thank you’?”

Papa gave him the Celtic words, and Daniel repeated them. He helped himself to a piece of cheese and found it turned to paste in his dry mouth. He swallowed a half-chewed clod. “Gah…Wa…water?”

Papa translated, and he and Golia spoke for a minute.

She was perhaps fourteen, just on the cusp of maidenhood, with long flowing locks of golden hair rippling down her back. The hem of her dress left her slender ankles exposed.

“She has only wine and mead in the house, but will draw water for you if you want.”

“Don’t go to any trouble on my account. What’s mead?”

“A drink made from fermented honey,” Papa said.

“Is it forbidden?”

Papa thought about this a moment. Golia stared at them, wide-eyed.

“Under the circumstances, I think not,” Papa said. “You may have some, if you like.”

“All right, then, I’d like to try it.” He looked at her as he spoke, hoping his smile didn’t look too foolish.”

Papa relayed the request, but when Golia turned to the table to fill a cup from a pot-bellied clay jug, Papa leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Daniel, no flirting with the
goy.”

Daniel’s cheeks burned, and he longed for the drink.

The largest structure in the village was a well-used banqueting hall, constructed like the stone huts with a base of stone, but on a larger scale, with two circular rows of pilings supporting a framework for the thatch. Jesus passed this by and wandered further down the pathways of the village.

He found Kendrick greeting a strange-looking man dressed in pristine linen garments that were of a finer material than those of the others. Unlike the other villagers, he showed no inclination to talk to Jesus, giving him instead a long stare before going on his way.

Kendrick stepped closer to Jesus. “That was Belenus, the local druid. Don’t worry if he seems mysterious and unfriendly. All the druids are that way, particularly with strangers. They are supposed to be all-seeing and all-knowing, so they need to maintain an air of mystery.”

“I read in Caesar’s account that the druids counsel the Celtic kings. Is Bannoch required to consult Belenus?” Jesus asked.

“It goes beyond that. While Bannoch is the undisputed chief of the village, to the druidic way of thinking, Bannoch may act only in ways that are consistent with the plans of the gods. It follows that he cannot ignore or refuse the druid.”

“So it seems the druids hold the real power. Kings and chieftains are mere figureheads.”

“Not so. Although the kings are subject to the laws proclaimed by the druids, the druids must do as the kings and chieftains ask, unless they determine it is an impious thing. This mutual dependence between king and druid goes back to the beginning of the world, as the Britons understand it. Another thing that keeps the druids in check is the common belief in their infallibility.”

“Doesn’t that strengthen the druids’ power?” asked Jesus.

“The people have been known to turn on the druids when they meddle in secular affairs, particularly when they are caught in errors. So they are usually content to leave it to the kings and chieftains to make the mistakes that are inevitable in governing—particularly in the conduct of wars and diplomacy or in planning the crops. Queer as it might seem, infallibility can be quite a burden.”

Jesus paused to consider that. “I see your point,” he finally said. Jesus was about to ask Kendrick more about the druids, but the captain put him off. “My ship is still tied up in the tidal pool. I must attend to it before the retreating tide leaves it high and dry.”

Jesus walked out beyond the walls to a village common. There he encountered Daniel trying to understand Fedwig and Golia. Daniel leaned closer to Golia. “Sorry, again?”

She prattled on for a while about a Celtic game called “Hide-and-seek.”

Jesus listened to the rules and translated them for Daniel. “Sounds a bit silly,” Jesus muttered, “but Golia is very eager to play.”

“It sounds like fun,” said Daniel.

“Does it?” Jesus said.

“Come on,” Daniel muttered.

Fedwig and Golia led the two strangers to their favorite spot, a small meadow on the edge of the forest that offered various hedges and trees for hiding. Fedwig began his count, and the others took off in different directions.

Jesus ran into the woods. With the voice of Fedwig fading behind him, he felt a sense of freedom and contentment he had never known before. There was something about this land of the Dumnonii that he could not put into words. His feet sprang across the soft ground. Maybe it was the smell of the wildflowers or the warmth of the afternoon sun. He looked back at the village with the smoke of its fires wending through the thatched roofs; they might be crude by Roman standards, but these were good-hearted and welcoming folk. They had no tax collectors; they did not even have money. As he looked over the rolling hills, he felt like running for joy as far as his legs could carry him.

In the distance, he heard Fedwig still counting away and turned his thoughts back to the game. He spotted the perfect hiding place behind some fallen trees and rocks. He jumped in quickly with plenty of time to spare.

A voice spoke softly in Hebrew, “Jesus, come out.”

Jesus peered out between some leaves and looked for Daniel. That had to be him; Fedwig and Golia obviously did not speak Hebrew. But he wondered why his cousin was not speaking the more familiar Aramaic. “Go away, Daniel,” he said. “This is my hiding place. Go find your own.” Waiting for a few seconds, he heard and saw nothing.

“Jesus, come out,” the voice called again.

Why would Daniel do this? Fedwig was almost at the end of his count, and Daniel’s voice would surely lead Fedwig to discover them both. “Just go away,” he said in a harsher tone.

“Jesus, come out,” the voice called a third time.

This was strange indeed. It did not really sound like Daniel. Could it be Joseph? No, it did not sound like him either. Who else could it be?

Jesus’s mind raced, and then he remembered a story from the book of Samuel. Samuel had been called when he was just a boy assisting the high priest around the Ark of the Covenant. Jesus suddenly realized to whom the strange voice belonged. Jesus got up from his place of hiding, went into the field, and said, in Samuel’s words, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

Then God the Father made himself known to Jesus and took him back further into the wood.

When they paused at a clearing, Jesus stooped down to remove his sandals.

“Why do you do that?” asked the Father.

“Did you not say to Moses that he must do this on the sacred ground in your presence, Lord?”

“Yes, but Moses was a man. He was a great prophet, but nonetheless a man. You share my divine substance. Surely, you know that you are my true son, and there is no need for a son to stoop down to undo his sandals in the presence of his father. Come, and fear not. Let us talk as father and son.”

“But how can I share your substance, Father? I don’t know what that means, and I have no divine powers.”

“Remember that you are also begotten of your mother, which now makes you of one substance with her as well. You are both fully human and fully divine. For now, most of your divine nature lies hidden from you beneath the surface. Your human nature is what you are most aware of and what other men see. But surely you must see things happening around you that are beyond the power of ordinary people.”

“Yes, Father. I have seen the hand of divine power all around me. I saw it when we feared all was lost off the Isle of Creta, and suddenly a divine calm settled the sea. I saw it when the rainbow appeared to show Uncle Joseph how it would guide his way across the sea. But I only prayed for these things. I did not make them happen; you alone must have done that.”