Copyright Matthew Burden, 2001
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~35~
Dawn was only just beginning
to show signs of lightening on the horizon when Hannah arose. The air had grown much colder, and her breath
formed puffs of steam as she rose and smoothed down
her ruffled hair. Since she heard no
sound of motion from the adjoining chamber, she stretched and sat down next to
the window to wait for her friends to rise.
As she watched the sun climb the eastern edge of the world with wondrous fascination, her thoughts
turned once again to that Mighty Maker of All, the One who had painted that
very sunrise for her.
“My father
believed…” she whispered into the cool air, her eyes dancing over the display
of fiery orange and gold. How many times
had she watched as her father had knelt and prayed in simple faith? He had been a man who had loved the Torah,
and who sought to live by it no matter what others did to him.
And in that instant, she
knew what she had to do. The flame of
his life had been snuffed out by the hands of evil men, but his devotion to his God could never be allowed to die. No
matter what the cost, she knew she had to keep that fire alive in her soul. And as she knelt beside that
little window, her heart swelled with a flood of joy that overcame her. Despite all that she had come through,
despite all of the tribulations she had faced, she could feel that there was still
something wondrous awaiting her. It was
a feeling beyond words, the touch of a celestial refrain being played within
her heart.
Her life was coming to a
climax, and she could sense its approach.
The thought of it made her tremble with the thrill and the
terror of the moment. It was something
new, something different—and it would cost her everything she had held dear.
~ ~ ~
Justin arose early as well,
his eyes burning with an inner fire. It
was the day of reckoning he had been waiting for, and now that it was upon him, he
had made a vow to face it with all the courage he could muster. The other three men still slumbered on their
straw mattresses, snoring gently in the chill room.
He buckled his sword around
his waist, its familiar weight comforting him, adding to his sense of
strength. But as he drew his shoulders
square,
he could hear the gentle whisper of his anam cara: The weapons of man are nothing, Justin.
Keep strong with the armor that will never fail.
The thought came just as a slap in the face
might, and it humbled him greatly, bringing him to his knees. Prayer, he knew, would he avail him better than a sword that day.
~ ~ ~
Hannah was the only member
of the group in high spirits that day; the others were caught up in a mood of
somber reflection. The sky remained
overcast, as if carrying a foreboding of evil. As they walked, Edward could not help but
wonder at the change that had come over Hannah, and he moved close beside her.
“Today is the day,” she said
with evident relief, “today
I will see my uncle again.”
Edward could not help but
smile. “It is wonderful. The Lord works in mighty ways if we allow Him
to use us.”
She turned, casting a
curious smile in his direction. “Yes, He
does, doesn’t He?” She laughed, the
sound of music to her companions. Then her gaze grew serious. “I must
speak to you Edward....This past
year has been a terrible one for me, for
several reasons. Ever since the death of
my mother, I've felt as if I was living as a stranger, hated, in a
foreign world. You cannot imagine how
lonely that can be.
“But it was not all so very
bad,” she said, a glimmer of hope returning to her voice. “These times have brought with them blessings
that have strengthened me more than I will ever know. From the pain of my mother’s death, I have
Samuel. And from my
father’s death, I have you.”
Edward blushed, not knowing
what to say.
“Edward,” she spoke softly, “I have been thinking a
great deal of all that you have done for me.
When the entire world was forsaking the Jews, despising us for merely
being who we are, you and your friends were able to love us enough to die for
us. You have sacrificed your own life,
your own plans, to help me. You have
loved me enough to try to save my soul—and the only way I can understand that
kind of love is through your Christ.”
He could not help but look
up at that, his expression filled with surprise.
“It’s true,” she continued,
the full smile returning to her face.
“My father loved God and Torah with all his heart—but I do not
believe that he would have laid down his life for an Englishman. He had only experienced hatred from them all
his life. But then I met you--a man who is able to love without thought of race or pain or hatred
or anything else.”
“It is not a love that I
found on my own,” he said.
“I know. Your Christ has put this love inside you. And I'm glad that he did,
Edward. It has given me joy again.”
“You can have that joy and
that love in your own soul, Hannah. All
you need do is surrender up yourself and believe.”
Hannah smiled weakly. “Surrender.
In all the trials I have gone through, my one thought was to survive by
holding on, never surrendering. And
now, to grasp that one true prize I have been led to, I must let it all
go. It is a strange paradox.”
“The Kingdom of God
thrives on paradox, Hannah. Surely
you’ve seen it by now. We take on a
weakness that gives us strength; we surrender to win the victory. This is why the world cannot understand it.”
She nodded. “And yet I think I do understand."
“The Spirit of the Lord is drawing
you, Hannah,” Edward smiled, the words coming to him quickly. “He is preparing your heart to receive Him.”
She nodded. “I know.
But allow me a few more minutes, Edward. With this step, I feel as if I'll be walking away from everything I used to hold dear, from
everything that my people have upheld over the ages.”
Edward smiled. “You will not be walking away from it,
Hannah. You have found the true center
of the faith of your fathers, and you are only taking hold of the fulfillment
of that promise. Do not wait too
long."
She smiled and squeezed his hand lightly. "I won't. I promise."
~ ~ ~
The prison was a small
building when seen from ground level, because most of the massive structure was
built in the form of subterranean dungeons.
They approached this facility as they had the prison of London, and were again greeted by a
guard. This man was small and wiry, with
a mustache of iron gray that drooped down over his mouth.
“What is it you want?” he
asked, yawning at the end of the question.
“We understand that some
prisoners from London
were sent here a few days ago,” Justin said. “We would like to speak to one of them.”
“Why?” he drawled.
“We are preparing to free
him by paying a bail sum. His name is
Eleazer, a Jew.”
“Oh,” the man’s eyes opened
wider. “This prisoner I know. Quite unruly.
They say he’s gone mad. We had to
put him in his own cell because of his attacks on the other prisoners.”
Hannah shook her head. “No, you must be mistaken. Let me in, I have to speak to him.”
The guard regarded her with
unhidden contempt, then turned his attention back to Justin. “I could allow you to see him…” he cleared
his throat loudly.
The knight rolled his eyes,
drawing forth a golden coin from his belt.
“Will this be sufficient?”
“Aye, that would do well,”
the man’s eyes gleamed as he grabbed the coin from Justin’s hand
and turned to unlock the door. He led
them down two dark stairwells before coming at last to a heavy oaken door. He took a large key from a ring on his belt
and slowly ground it in the lock until a satisfying click was heard. The guard remained at the open door,
thrusting a torch into Justin’s hand as he led his friend’s into the darkened
chamber.
“If he tries to attack you,”
the guard said quickly, watching as Oswald, the last of the group, stepped
through the door, “don’t hesitate to hurt him.”
As soon as all five were in
the chamber, the guard quickly slammed the door shut and locked it again. His footsteps could be heard rushing back up
the stairs.
“Why is he leaving us?”
Hannah wondered aloud, her voice echoing in the dark chamber.
“We have been betrayed,”
Justin responded, his voice cold and level.
“The Templars must have found out who we were seeking, and devised this
trap.”
Edward ran to the door,
pressing his weight against it in vain.
“How do you know it's the Templars?”
Justin sighed. “I thought it might be. Don’t you remember? The guard in London said that the prisoners had been moved
to this prison, near a Templar preceptory.
No doubt the order to move them came from the Templars as well.”
As Justin’s voice fell away
into the still of the chamber, another voice, much weaker, came from a distant
corner. “Hello?”
“Uncle?” Hannah replied, her
breath catching in her throat. “Uncle is
that you?”
“Hannah!” a startled
response came. “Hannah, have you
returned? You must leave—it’s a trap.”
She sighed, rushing over to
the source of the voice. “We know. We’ve been locked down here.”
“Then it’s too late.” The voice echoed with hollow despair.
As Justin moved nearer with the torch, light
fell across the emaciated face of the Jew.
During the weeks he had spent in the prison, ten years or more had been
added to his face. His eyes glistened
with tears of weariness, his beard hanging tangled and unkempt from his chin.
“No, Uncle,” Hannah
protested, kneeling before him. “No, it’s not too late. We’re here now, and we
can save you.”
He smiled gently. “I am glad you are here, little one, but now
we are all prisoners together.” His sigh
echoed in the dank chamber. “In truth, I
did not believe I would ever see you again.
I almost hoped that you would take my advice and not involve yourself in
these matters.”
She wiped away a tear, a
timbre of determination returning to her voice.
“I have seen enough death not to cower when it faces me, Uncle. It was what I had to do.”
His eyes shone with a
brightness that his cracked lips could not reflect in their weak smile. “Then you were able to sell the robe?” he
asked hopefully. He noticed her
frightened glance, so he continued. “It
is not for want of the money that I ask, Hannah. Many powerful men would be swayed to evil
ends to have that relic in their hands.
I do not want you to be hurt.”
She sighed. “It is the robe that has made us prisoners
together, for this is what the Templars have sought all along.”
“Yes,” Justin replied,
joining the conversation. “The Templars
know that many good Christian men would follow a leader who held such a holy
relic. They want to ensure against any
such dangers. They are a poison to the
body of Christ.”
The Jew nodded
solemnly. “But they are powerful, are
they not?”
“Quite powerful, to a fearful
extent.”
“And they have pursued you
all the way?”
Justin nodded. “Ever since we left York, we have had Druids, Templars, and Saxon
outlaws after us with dreams of taking the robe.”
“Then you still have it?”
“Yes. David of Northampton was dead,” Justin
replied. “So we were hoping that we might
find a worthy protector here in London,
and in so doing also find a way to release you.”
Eleazer narrowed his eyes
suspiciously. “Why would you wish to
help me—a Jew? In all the years I have
lived in England,
I have been a member of the most hated, blasphemous race ever, or so they tell
me.”
Justin smiled. “The love of Christ washes away all
such prejudices, my friend.”
Eleazer still retained an
air of cautiousness when speaking to the strangers, but he was comforted by the
fact that Hannah seemed to trust them.
After about an hour of quiet speech among the group, they began to
settle down from the shock of being trapped. Oswald and Alfred positioned them near the
doorway, in case any opportunity to escape was provided. Hannah sat down next to her uncle, and Justin
remained standing, his back pressed against the cold stone wall.
Edward was pacing back and
forth in the center of the cell, as if measuring off its breadth with his
strides. After a few minutes of walking
back and forth in silence, he paused and smile brightly.
“This reminds me of one of the stories I used
to copy.” All eyes turned to him, so he
continued to speak, his tone animated.
“When I was in Lindisfarne, I worked in
the scriptorium every day and copied the texts of the Scriptures from one
parchment onto another. One of the
stories told of an adventure of Saint
Paul.”
“Tell us,” Hannah urged,
even though Eleazer frowned sourly at the suggestion.
“Paul and his companion Silas
were ministering in the city of Philippi,”
he began, his feet carrying him once again in the pattern of pacing. “They healed a fortune-telling girl of a
demon that was in her, and her masters became very angry at Paul and Silas. They were dragged before the magistrates of
the city, who ordered the two apostles to be beaten and thrown into
prison. Well, after a severe flogging,
they were taken and shackled in the inner cell of the prison.
“Around midnight,” Edward
continued, “they were still awake, praying and singing hymns of praise to God.”
Eleazer harrumphed
loudly. “A likely fable! If any man was flogged and put in chains for
the sake of Christ, he would not be so foolish as to praise the very cause of
his suffering.”
Edward smiled. “When the Spirit of God enters a believer,
Eleazer, it changes that man in ways that cannot possibly be
imagined. It gives him strength to
render praise and thanks even in the darkest of times. Think about it. If he dies, he will go to heaven to be with
our blessed Lord. And if he remains alive, he still
has a chance to go and share the wonderful grace of our Master. As a Christian, the best is always yet to
come. No matter what.”
Eleazer did not respond, but
merely glared at him sullenly.
“Go on,” Justin said with a
grin. “The story’s not finished.”
“No, it’s not. As the voices of Paul and Silas filled the
prison, an earthquake came up suddenly.
It shook the prison with such awesome force that the very walls of that
stronghold came down around Paul and Silas.
Because of this mighty miracle of faith, even the jail-master and his
family was converted.”
Alfred smiled. “A good story indeed, Ed. If only we had the power of the apostles.”
Justin smiled. “Who's to say we don't? It wasn't their power, after all, it was Christ's. Let's pray for a miracle.”
The five friends knelt in a tight circle near
the center of the cell, their hands joined together, while Eleazar stood watching from his shackles. Their prayers were simple, humble, and sincere. They knew that, whatever
happened, their fate was sealed by the hand of the One who cared for them as
His own children. Whether it was in the
hard road of martyrdom or the chance to live longer for Him, they knew they
would follow His path until the end. And as their own
hymn of praise shook the walls of the dark cell, they could feel His calm
assurance cover them like a flood.
At
that instant, they heard a key grinding in the lock. The heavy door creaked open, and twelve
cloaked forms rushed into the chamber.