Mark's Story Read Online Free PDF Page B

again.

FOUR
    B reathless and still weeping, Mark quieted himself as he slipped into his room and quickly shed the woolen covering. He replaced it with a nightshirt and curled up on his mat. But the lad did not even try to close his eyes. He should have been drowsy, exhausted even. But he was able to comprehend nothing of what he had seen this fateful night, and his mind whirled.
    Mark’s knew his mother would sense that something deeply troubled him. What would he tell her at daybreak? Dare he tell about Peter? Was it fair to influence his mother’s thinking about a friend? And yet it was the truth! Peter had proven a coward and a liar.
    Mark was not aware of finally having drifted off, but at the crack of dawn he roused, still sick in his soul. He smelled breakfast cooking and knew his mother would be up. She never slept while her servants were working. He could not imagine eating, but knew he should and that his mother would likely insist on it.
    When he returned from relieving himself, Mark found her in his room. She looked worse than he felt. “I have bad news for you,” she said. “Jesus has been arrested and faces sentencing today.”
    Mark fought to hold his tongue but failed. “Where did you hear this?”
    “A messenger arrived this morning. Jesus’ disciples are asking if they may hide out in our upper room.”
    “Hide out? What are they afraid of?”
    “The Romans and the Pharisees, of course.”
    The young man sank onto his cot and sighed. “Why are they not standing with Him, testifying for Him, defending Him?”
    “And how do you know they are not?”
    “You said yourself they seek a hiding place.”
    His mother’s gaze had fallen upon his woolen covering, bunched up in the corner. She raised it and spread it wide. “What is this?” she said. “And where is your tunic from yesterday?”
    “Oh, mother!” Mark said, dissolving into tears. He held his head in his hands as he recounted the events from the night before. “I know you must punish me for being away without your knowledge. But I felt I just had to.”
    His mother turned ashen, her lips quivering as she sat next to him. “You were foolhardy,” she said in a monotone, her eyes far away. “But I am grateful you are safe.”
    Had she heard a word he’d said? And when she returned to herself, would he still be punished? His transgression seemed to inconsequential compared with what he had reported.
    “I confess I would have been hard-pressed to keep from following them myself,” she said.
    “Verily?” he said.
    His mother nodded. “And Jesus foretold all that happened?”
    “Yes! Mother, I would not have believed it had I not seen and heard it for myself! And Peter! I hate him!”
    His mother’s gaze returned to him. She laid a shaky hand on his. “You mustn’t be so hard on him. Put yourself in his place.”
    “I wish I could! If I believed in Jesus the way he claims to, I would never have forsaken Him!”
    She seemed to study him until he had to look away. “May you forever retain such passion. I would like to believe I too would have stood by my Lord.”
    “Mother, when Peter denied knowing Jesus, he was so angry he cursed. I hope he—”
    She held up a hand and shook her head. “I cannot imagine his fear.”
    “Fear is right. I have lost all respect for him.”
    Mark stood and gathered the scratchy covering, bundling it to discard it. “I don’t care to ever see him again, let alone speak to him.”
    “Jesus must be our concern now, son. But remember, Peter is your elder, due your respect.”
    “Respect for what? Cowardice? Disloyalty?”
    “You maintain he should not have deserted his friend.”
    “Of course!”
    “And yet you are doing the same to him.”
    “But Jesus did not deserve what Peter did to him!”
    She stood and embraced the boy and he was struck that her frail frame seemed to shudder uncontrollably. “And if I were you,” she said, “I would take care not to put myself in a position to say