Second Touch Read Online Free PDF Page B

armor?” “This ¬doesn’t worry me,” Marcus corrected. “But that does.” The centurion pointed to Eglon and a half dozen of his men clambering over the first of several stone barricades. They waded through the flocks on a direct course toward the Teacher. Yeshua apparently saw them too and offered a restrained smile. “I tell you the truth,” He said wryly. “The man who ¬doesn’t enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in some other way is a thief and a robber.” Laying a restraining hand on Zadok’s shoulder, He added, “The man who enters by the gate is the shepherd of his sheep. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. His sheep follow him because they know his voice.” Then in louder, unyielding tones He continued, “But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him.”5 Marcus fervently wished Yeshua was more alert to the danger He was in and ready to do a little running away Himself. Eglon was perfectly capable of slashing his way into a crowd to start a panic, then killing Yeshua in the commotion. “Come on,” Marcus ordered Quintus. “We’ll head them off. You watch my back.” “Done,” said the guard sergeant grimly, drawing his short sword. Quintus would not expend a drop of sweat, much less blood, defending a Jew, no matter how holy. But he would die protecting his centurion if the need arose. Marcus crossed a stone wall himself, wanting to intercept Eglon before

Antipas’ hired assassin got any closer to Yeshua. Lambs scattered, crowding into corners. Shepherds remained attentively distant. Yeshua continued speaking in unhurried fashion, as if teaching in the Temple courts surrounded entirely by admirers. “David, who was himself a shepherd before he was king of Israel, sang this song, ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.’ ”6 Simon challenged Him. “You compare yourself to David?” Yeshua replied, “I AM the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”7 Not today! Not today! Marcus fervently hoped. With Quintus guarding his left flank, Marcus strode unflinchingly toward the oncoming Eglon. Sheep bawled and scattered before them. “Eglon! That’s far enough.” Marcus planted himself, arms folded across his chest. The noise of bleating lambs, the trapped heat, the oppressive stench formed one last barrier between the opponents . . . a blade’s sweep apart. “What right’ve you got here, Roman?” Eglon spat. “Watch your tone!” Quintus barked, advancing menacingly. “This is Centurion Marcus Longinus.” Eglon looked left and right, licking his lips in indecision. Seconds earlier he’d been in control, eager for the kill. Now he was uncertain how he’d lost the initiative. Behind him Yeshua continued, “I have other sheep who ¬aren’t of this sheepfold. I’ll bring them with me also. I must bring them. They’ll listen and hear my voice when I call them. There’ll be one flock. One shepherd.”8 “The centurion’s out of uniform,” Eglon growled. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “How was I to know? Besides,” he resumed, motioning for his men to close in, “¬I’m here on official business for—” “Doesn’t matter who is your . . . master.” Marcus’ manner conveyed he was addressing Antipas’ dog. “Be off with you. ¬I’m in charge.” Though the simple gray tunic he wore clung to his body, Marcus squared his shoulders as if for full dress inspection. “You,” Eglon said, screwing one eye shut. “You killed . . . you’re the one . . . killed Vara.” Marcus dropped his hand to grasp his sword hilt. “True. And ready for anyone else who causes trouble. Tell that to your master, eh? And I know you, Eglon. The city is full of pilgrims again, but there won’t be any corpses for you to pick over today.” Eglon cast a hard look toward Yeshua. Marcus saw murderous thoughts flash through his eyes. Eglon had been sent to murder Yeshua—that was plain enough. Yeshua also