Jesus Christ -- Fiction; Jesus Christ -- Juvenile fiction; Short stories
Twice he had permitted the child to escape, and neither Voltigius nor
Herod would pardon him for anything of the kind.
“As long as Herod knows that one of the Bethlehem children still lives,
he will always be haunted by the same anxiety and dread,” said the
soldier. “Most likely he will try to ease his worries by nailing me to a
cross.”
It was a hot noonday hour, and he suffered tortures from the ride
through this mountain district on a road which wound around steep cliffs
where no breeze stirred. Both horse and rider were ready to drop.
Several hours before he had lost every trace of the fugitives, and he
felt more disheartened than ever.
“I must give it up,” thought he. “I verily believe it is time wasted to
pursue them further. They must perish anyway in this awful wilderness.”
As he thought this, he discovered, in a mountain-wall near the roadside,
the vaulted entrance to a grotto.
Immediately he rode up to the opening. “I will rest a while in this cool
mountain cave,” thought he. “Then, mayhap, I can continue the pursuit
with renewed strength.”
As he was about to enter, he was struck with amazement! On each side of
the opening grew a beautiful lily. The two stalks stood there tall and
erect and full of blossoms. They sent forth an intoxicating odor of
honey, and many bees buzzed around them.
It was such an uncommon sight in this wilderness that the soldier did
something extraordinary. He broke off a large white flower and took it
with him into the cave.
The cave was neither deep nor dark, and as soon as he entered he saw
that there were already three travelers within: a man, a woman, and a
child, who lay stretched out upon the ground, lost in deep slumber.
The soldier had never before felt his heart beat as it did at this
vision. They were the three runaways whom he had hunted so long. He
recognized them instantly. And here they lay sleeping, unable to defend
themselves and wholly in his power.
He drew his sword quickly and bent over the sleeping child.
Cautiously he lowered the sword toward the infant’s heart, and measured
carefully, in order to kill with a single thrust.
He paused an instant to look at the child’s countenance. Now, when he
was certain of victory, he felt a grim pleasure in beholding his victim.
But when he saw the child his joy increased, for he recognized the
little boy whom he had seen play with bees and lilies in the meadow
beyond the city gate.
“Why, of course I should have understood this all the time!” thought he.
“This is why I have always hated the child. This is the pretended Prince
of Peace.”
He lowered his sword again while he thought: “When I lay this child’s
head at Herod’s feet, he will make me Commander of his Life Guard.”
As he brought the point of the sword nearer and nearer the heart of the
sleeping child, he reveled in the thought: “This time, at least, no one
shall come between us and snatch him from my power.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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