Page 22 of Dark Resurrection


  * * *

  Euripides came knocking on Joseph’s door a few hours after sunup. He opened the door, half-asleep, beholding the black-eyed and bandaged man. Knowing that most Greeks didn’t speak Aramaic or Hebrew, and familiar with the Roman tongue from his days in Judea, while rubbing his eyes he asked gruffly in passable Latin, “What do you want?”

  “Nothing sir,” Euripides answered in Greek, for a moment not recognizing the clean-shaven Joseph.

  “What the hell did you just say man, I don’t speak Greek!” Joseph exclaimed.

  “I’m sorry,” Euripides apologized in Latin, “Nothing sir, I was trying to speak with James, but when I knocked on the door I got no answer.”

  “Oh yes, my son James, he and his girl keep odd hours.”

  “They’re sleeping?”

  “Yes,” said Joseph, “So were we.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No problem, I’m hungry anyway; have you had breakfast?” Joseph asked, realizing he had to cover for Jesus.

  “No sir, and just where are we, I was out of it last night.”

  “Mansahir, about five miles north of where you were robbed.”

  His wife woke, startled, and asked, “What is it Joseph?”

  “It’s the trader Euripides,” Joseph answered in Aramaic, “He was looking for our son.”

  “Oh,” said Mary, sitting up in bed, “Did you tell him he’s asleep and hates being disturbed at this time?”

  “I told him,” Joseph replied, “I’m heading out for grub, I’ll be back in a little while woman.” Closing the door, he looked to Euripides and said, “I’m buying, let’s find breakfast shall we?”

  Pointing to the animals tethered in front of his room, Euripides replied, “Would you believe it, our horses returned during the night.”

  “Yes uh, we happened upon them, riderless on the road into town, so we tied them to our wagon figuring they were yours,” Joseph lied, making up the story as he went along.

  “That’s strange, I seem to remember the bandits riding off with them,” said a confused Euripides, trying to piece the events together.

  “Maybe you just thought they did,” Joseph answered, “You were rather delirious when we found you.”

  “Perhaps,” said Euripides, not buying the reply, but knowing he shouldn’t be so stupid as to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “So, how’s your partner?” Joseph asked while they headed to a tavern.

  “Thales is feeling a bit better. I told him I’d try to bring food for him.”

  “You definitely will now, since I’m buying the grub.” Entering the tavern, Joseph ordered several carryout breakfasts along with a small crock of soup for trader Thales. Producing currency from a tunic pocket, he paid for the food in common orichalcum sestertii and they headed back to the inn.

  “When will James be awake?” Euripides asked, wanting to thank the other members of the rescue party in person.

  “He and his girl don’t often rise till early evening,” replied Joseph, as if it was as natural as the sun rising in the east, “Don’t ask me why, it’s a habit they picked up some time ago.”

  “I suppose some folks don’t like the day,” Euripides observed.

  “That’s the goddamn truth,” said a chucking Joseph.

  Coming to the door of his room, Euripides opened it and sat their food on a table just inside. Joseph turned to his room and said, “Come back after dusk if you like, I’m sure James will be up by then.” Entering, Joseph closed the door as his wife was leaving bed.

  “What did you tell him about Jesus?” asked Mary.

  “That he was a late sleeper,” Joseph replied, smiling at the simple lie, “He seemed to buy that, and I also took the time to pick up breakfast for you,” handing his wife a warm lump of oil soaked, brown papyrus.

  “Thank you,” said Mary, unwrapping the food, aromatic brown meat and assorted vegetables spilling onto the table. “My God Joseph, this is pork!” she exclaimed, drawing back from the well-done swine flesh, “I can’t eat this – the Torah says it’s unclean!”

  “Who cares, those stupid scrolls don’t mean anything. If you remember Mary, our son now drinks blood every night! The Torah says a lot of senseless stuff and it’s all bullshit,” Joseph spat, taking a big bite of pork tenderloin, marinated in wine, seasoned with onions, carrots, and garlic. He swallowed a mouthful, chasing the delicious morsels with a gulp of strong wine. “Besides, we’re not in Judea anymore, so forget about that crap from there.”

  “We were taught by the rabbis from the Torah, they said pork will defile us.”

  “That’s ridiculous, we’re all defiled as it is,” Joseph retorted, preparing to take another bite, “Who were those pious fools anyway, trying to tell us what to think! After what I’ve seen in the last few months, the Hebrew faith is a fraud, just like everything else that has to do with religion, and the Torah’s nothing but scrolls of lies penned by deluded idiots.”

  “But Joseph, I – ”

  “Just eat the food woman, it won’t kill you and it tastes really good,” Joseph said with a cynical smile, enjoying the rich flavor of the forbidden food.

  She looked to her husband and then at the food on the table. Joseph was right; it indeed smelled good, so she took a small bite of the unclean meat.

  “See, you haven’t died, have you?” Joseph asked, popping a roasted carrot in his mouth, drenched in pork broth.

  “No, and it doesn’t taste bad either,” she answered with pleasant surprise.

  “Exactly, when in Rome, do as Romans do.”

  “If you say so,” Mary replied, first picking at, and then quickly finishing her delicious breakfast.

 
Frederick Preston's Novels