Chapter 22

It was mid-forenoon. The sun was hot. Esther and Myra were slowly plodding up the long hill to Bethany. They walked in silence, for they were physically and emotionally exhausted: they had wept until they could weep no more.

As for Myra, however deeply she grieved over the soul-sickening tragedy, she still had her family to go back to—and Joel. She was definitely on Joel’s side now, whatever her grandfather might say…For Esther, everything was lost. The Master, for all his superhuman power, had been led away to die. He had saved others, but he had been unable to save himself. Not a friend had come to his aid. Even Peter had run away.

In a day or two, Myra would return to her home and friends in Galilee. Esther had no home. There would be no reason for her returning to Galilee. Hannah didn’t need her. And she wasn’t sure that she wanted ever to see Peter again.

As a guest in suburban Bethany, Esther might have known nothing of the dreadful night and tragic morning that had befallen Jesus until it was all over, had not an expected friend of Myra’s Uncle Boaz—who had met with a delaying misadventure on his long journey from Askelon—arrived at daybreak with the appalling news.

Grandfather Asher’s high-pitched voice had roused the house. Habitually an early riser, Asher had been the first to hear the report. The Sanhedrin was sending the Nazarene blasphemer to Pilate’s court this morning to be tried for treason. And that, shouted the old man, would finish him! And it was about time!

Uncle Boaz hadn’t been much stirred by the announcement, and when his excited father declared he was going to the Insula to hear the trial he had cautioned him against it. ‘It’s a long trip. It will be a hot day. There will be much confusion.’

‘But I cannot miss this, my son! I want to see this trouble-maker finally disposed of! A day to remember! An historic occasion!’

Esther listened with a sinking heart. She felt she must go. Myra had tried to dissuade her; and, failing of it, decided reluctantly to go too. They did not wait for Grandfather Asher, but left the house through the patio and the garden gate. They sped through Bethany, down the hill, into the awakening city—and on to the Insula. A great crowd of clamorous men had massed there at the entrance. The girls did not venture into the angry throng, but crossed the street and waited. Huddled together at the corner were the disciples. But why were they not beside the Master? There was Peter, wide-eyed, haggard, gnawing at his lip. Surely Peter could have been depended on to stand by the Master, even at the risk of his life! Esther could not believe her own eyes.

Terrible things, incredible things were happening now. A savage voice had screamed, ‘Crucify him!’ The mob instantly echoed it, ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’ The words mounted into a horrifying chant, ‘Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!…’ There was a sudden silence; then a wild cry of victory! The mob spilled over the terraces and cascaded into the street. A company of Roman soldiers marched rapidly down the steps, tugging Jesus by a rope. The crowd closed in behind them. Now the bewildered disciples followed; all but Peter, who was running away! Young Thad had followed after him.