Dark Resurrection

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  A refreshed Jesus and Magdalene appeared from their cave just after sundown carrying Stheir work clothes. Sitting the rags on the wagon’s seat, Jesus greeted his parents while observing the work Joseph had performed during the day. Voicing approval at his father’s accomplishments, they sat down, enjoying cups of wine while his parents had dinner.

  Supper finished, Joseph and Jesus walked to the home site and finalized plans for building the foundation, his father noting the measurements on a piece of parchment nailed to a tree for use as reference. They also worked out fireplace and chimney placement, agreeing that building a large hearth on one side of the future kitchen would be best. Satisfied with their plans, they headed to the campsite and enjoyed another cup of wine together. While the fire burned in the cool evening, his mother related that Joseph had gone into town during the morning and purchased needed tools for the construction project.

  “So, what did you buy father?” Jesus asked.

  “Rope, chain, picks, shovels, nails and the like, we’re short on tools for a project like this.”

  “Good, we need items like that anyway.”

  “I also bought an iron hammer and hardened chisels for the foundation stones.”

  “Excellent, I’m not a mason, but it can’t be that hard.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Joseph, finishing a cup of wine.

  “Incidentally, how the hell did you fell and strip twenty trees in one night?” Joseph asked, amazed at the work his son had accomplished.

  “It was easy,” said Jesus, “I pushed them over, cut off the roots and branches and carried them to the pile.”

  “Carried them, that’s incredible,” replied Joseph, wishing Jesus had been as interested in carpentry in the past as he seemed to be now.

  “I carried the stones,” said the Magdalene.

  “Really?” Joseph asked, his jaw dropping.

  “I told you we’re much stronger than mortals are father.”

  “I know, but I didn’t think you were that strong,” said Joseph, staring at the petite Mary Magdalene, trying to envision her lifting such a load, she a vampire who could easily lift half a ton.

  “It still surprises me too,” she confessed with a sheepish smile.

  Walking to the wagon and grabbing another bottle, Joseph sat down and poured fresh cups of wine for he and Jesus. “So, what do you intend to do tonight son, build the house?”

  “No, I figured since you bought picks and shovels I’d work on the foundation. After I’m finished with that I can dig a well and perhaps a latrine.”

  “Both?”

  “Well, maybe not both, since I’ll have to shape stones for the well first,” said Jesus. I can probably start both pits tonight, but before we do, Mary and I have to head out for a bite to eat.”

  “Yes,” replied Joseph, smiling at the euphemism, “By the time you return your mother and I should be asleep. I want to rise early tomorrow to start setting the foundation stones.”

  “I’ll try to keep the noise to a minimum,” said Jesus, he and Mary rising to their feet.

  Walking from the camp, his father called, “Why don’t you fly son, you’ll get there faster.”

  “I figured we’d walk tonight.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Joseph, opening the door to the wagon, his wife having already bedded down for the night. Walking off, the last sounds they heard from the camp was Joseph, snickering about something, as usual.

  Finding suitable sustenance each evening was not as easy as Jesus had first imagined when arriving in Tibernum, as the town was small and very well protected by the garrison. Most robbers and highwaymen avoided the area, thanks to prefect Gavinal and his efficient centurion, who summarily executed any they caught wishing to pursue these methods of employment.

  Reluctantly contenting themselves with the blood of wild boars, Jesus said as they returned to the farm, “I think it’s good that Gavinal and his men keep the area free of criminals, but if this doesn’t change soon we’ll have to move on sooner than I imagined.”

  “We could fly to Mansahir, it’s a large town with plenty of thieves,” said the Magdalene.

  “We may have to, but it’s well over a hundred miles, even as bats it would take hours to get there.”

  “That’s true, but there are other towns between here and Mansahir, and perhaps there are bandits up north.”

  “Doubtful,” said Jesus, “Tibernum’s the northernmost settlement in this area. We’d have to fly over the mountains to see what lies beyond.” Arriving, Jesus noted that his parents were asleep in the wagon with the fire burning low, not banked as it should have been for the night. The ever-thoughtful mother of Jesus had stated they might want warm water to wash up, an exhausted Joseph dismissing the suggestion as unnecessary.

  “Why?” asked his mother.

  “If they want warm water let them fix it for themselves,” Joseph retorted, not wanting to tend the fire.

  “Let’s start building the foundation, that’ll surprise dad,” said Jesus.

  “Why not,” Mary replied. They changed into work garb, placing their good clothes on the wagon seat.

  “I noticed you’re wearing sandals,” said Mary, looking to his still reddish feet.

  “Yes, the ones I took from Peter are still in good shape and will have to do till I find another pair of shoes.”

  “I wonder what’s wrong with them.”

  “I don’t know, but I can’t wear them for more than a few days, otherwise my feet turn red and start to itch like hell.”

  “Perhaps you need socks.”

  “Maybe,” said Jesus, turning to the stack of tools. He took a pick and pair of shovels sitting next to the wagon and handed a shovel to his consort, showing her how to prepare the ground for the masonry. Quickly digging a perimeter trench for the stones with the pick, Jesus perused the parchment for proper figures regarding depth, finishing the excavation in less than two hours. The couple then placed suitable large stones at the corners of the trench and others in areas between.

  “Cutting and shaping the foundation stones will have to wait till tomorrow,” said Jesus at a little past two, “The noise produced would definitely wake my parents.”

  “True,” an exhausted Magdalene replied, wiping sweat from her face.

  Jesus was lost in thought, looking at the foundation.

  “The ground here is firm and dry; I’ll speak to father about building a cellar too.”

  “For storing wine?”

  “Of course, among other things.”

  “Okay, what do we do now?” Mary asked, knowing he was teasing her.

  “Dig a latrine and well,” said Jesus, looking to the nearly finished foundation. Walking ten paces from the front of the foundation, he marked the area for the well, pushing a long stick into the ground to mark the spot. As they were close to the Euphrates, he supposed a depth of 15 cubits would be appropriate, as the elevation was around ten cubits where they stood.

  “We’ll need medium size rocks to line the well, perhaps you should gather those while I dig the latrine,” said Jesus.

  “Okay,” Mary replied, and she headed for the river. Watching her for a moment, Jesus measured off ten paces from the rear of the foundation. Taking the pick, he broke ground for the latrine. Over several trips, the Magdalene created a small mountain of stones, piling them near the area where the well was to be dug, with Jesus finishing the latrine pit within an hour. Almost ten feet deep, he leapt from it easily, noting that he could have jumped fifty feet into the air if he needed to.

  “Dad’s going to have to build an outhouse,” said Jesus, pushing a shovel into a pile of dirt.

  “We’d best cover the hole, someone could fall in.”

  “Yes, verily I say, it is good you are here Mary, you’re a wise and observant woman.”


  “Thank you Jesus,” said an embarrassed Magdalene, not used to honest compliments.

  They headed to a grove and ripped several medium size trees from the ground. Jesus stripped them of their roots and branches with an axe, he and Mary placing the trunks over the hole. Relaxing afterward, Jesus remarked that his father could later split the trees and build an outhouse right where they lay, saving him labor in the process. Walking to the future well, Jesus broke ground with the pick and began to dig a few feet into the earth using a shovel. Stopping as the horizon lightened, he stepped out, leaning the shovel and pick against a tree.

  “Dad’s going to have to pick up mortar for the stones. I wonder if they have any in town,” said Jesus, wiping his sweaty face on a rag.

  “Probably, leave him a note and he can pick it up tomorrow,” Mary replied.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Scratching a note on the parchment with a piece of charcoal, Jesus requested ten bags of pozzolana concrete, and trowels for applying it. Their chores completed, they washed up by the river, gathered their clothing, walked to the cave and settled into sleep.

  Joseph awoke early; stepping from the wagon to observe the latest miracles his son had accomplished during the night. As usual, it was much more than he expected, the foundation was nearly finished, the latrine pit was dug, and the well was on its way to being excavated, a pile of liner stones stacked nearby. Looking at the parchment, he noticed Jesus’ note scribbled at the bottom of the sheet. “Oh well, I’ll have to head to town again,” he remarked to Mary as she was making breakfast. “Jesus left a note asking for more supplies.”

  “What does he need this time?”

  “Concrete and trowels,” he answered, she handing him food.

  “He’s certainly accomplishing a lot of work during the night.”

  “I’ll say,” said Joseph, “The foundation’s almost done.”