Mary of Nazareth Read Online Free PDF Page A

a finger’s distance from her throat. Joachim saw the frightened look in the eyes of the mercenary holding the spear.
    He could tell that this madman was about to strike Miriam. He knew that even though he had been urging himself to be wise and patient since the night before, he could no longer bear the humiliation these swine from the Sanhedrin were inflicting on old Houlda. Nor—may God Almighty forgive him—could he ever accept a barbarian in Herod’s pay killing his daughter. Anger was gaining the upper hand, and he knew he would give in to it, whatever it might cost him.
    The mercenary drew back his hand to strike. Joachim leaped forward and pushed aside the spear before it could reach Miriam’s chest. The flat part of the head hit the shoulder of a young man standing beside him, with enough force to throw him to the ground. Joachim tore the weapon from the mercenary’s hand and slammed his fist, as hard as the wood he worked on every day, into the man’s throat.
    Something broke in the mercenary’s neck, cutting off his breath. His eyes opened wide in astonishment.
    Joachim pushed him away, and out of the corner of his eye saw Miriam help the young man to his feet, surrounded by the villagers who, not realizing that one of their enemies had just died, were shouting curses at the mercenaries.
    He did not hesitate. Still holding the spear, he leaped toward the tax collectors. With the cries of the villagers in his ears, he aimed the spear at the stomach of the vulture holding the candlestick.
    â€œGive that back!” he yelled.
    Stunned, the other man did not move. It was possible he did not even understand what Joachim was saying. He moved back, white-faced, slavering with fear, still clutching the candlestick, and huddled against the other tax collectors behind him, as if to melt into their dark mass.
    Old Houlda still lay on the ground. She had stopped moving. A little blood ran down one of her temples, blackening her white locks. Above the angry yelling, Joachim heard Miriam cry, “Father, watch out!”
    The mercenaries who had been guarding the carts were running to the tax collector’s rescue, brandishing their swords. Joachim realized that he was committing a folly and that his punishment would be terrible.
    He thought of Yahweh. If God Almighty really was the God of Justice, as he had been taught, then he would forgive him.
    He thrust in the spear. He was surprised to feel it sink so easily into the tax collector’s shoulder. The man screamed in pain and at last let go of the candlestick. It dropped to the ground, tinkling slightly like a bell.
    Before the mercenaries could throw themselves on him, Joachim threw down the spear, picked up the candlestick, and knelt beside Houlda. He was relieved to see that she had only fainted. He slid his arm under her shoulders, placed the candlestick on her stomach, and closed her misshapen fingers over it.
    Only then did he become aware of the silence.
    The cries and yells had stopped. The only sound was the moaning of the wounded tax collector.
    He looked up. A dozen spears, and as many swords, were pointing directly at him. The indifference had gone from the mercenaries’ faces, replaced by arrogance and hatred.
    Ten paces along the road, the people of Nazareth, including Miriam, stood unable to move, held back by the mercenaries’ spears.
    The stunned silence lasted for another moment or two, and then there was pandemonium.
    Joachim was seized, thrown to the ground, and beaten. Miriam and the villagers tried to surge forward, but the mercenaries pushed them back, cutting a swathe through the arms, legs, shoulders of the boldest until the officer in command gave the order to retreat.
    Some of the mercenaries carried the wounded tax collector to his horse. Leather straps were tied around Joachim’s wrists and ankles, and he was thrown unceremoniously onto one of the carts, which was already turning to leave the