Ezekiel was gaining ground on the group of soldiers. The rest of the group had dispersed. Simon was the only one who was even close. Ezekiel caught up to him.
“I don’t know you,” said Simon.
“Don’t be silly. We worked together in Tiberias.”
“Yes, but people don’t know that. I don’t want to be seen with anyone who’s a part of this.”
“Alright. I’ll just be on my way,” said Ezekiel. Looking to his right, he could see that the prison was next to the court, where two Roman guards stood at the front ironclad door. Ezekiel walked up to one guard. “Sir, is there a man named Dismas being held here?”
The guards said nothing. They just stared straight ahead as if he were not there.
“Excuse me, I’m trying to see if there is a man . . .”
“I heard you. Now get lost. Prisoners of Rome have no name. These men will be executed at dawn.”
“Well, you see, that is why I came. If I can buy his freedom . . .”
Ezekiel was interrupted by the men’s laughter.
“You can’t buy his freedom, boy. He is marked for death.”
“If you will just give me a chance to explain . . .”
One of the guards broke ranks and pushed Ezekiel out into the street. Drawing his sword, he hit him with the pummel and swung his sword back and forth. Ezekiel fell backwards to the ground. A crowd formed around the scene, people coming out from all over. Ezekiel tried to get up, and again he was struck by the flat part of the Roman gladius. He thought of pulling the dagger, but he knew at this point it would mean certain death. The soldier sheathed his sword and delivered punishing blows to Ezekiel’s face to the point where he fell onto his back once again. The Roman drew his sword and held it high with both hands, about to plunge it into Ezekiel’s abdomen.
“Wait!” said a voice in a Samaritan accent. Ezekiel could not make out who it was.
“Let me kill him. I am owed retribution from this snake.”
The Roman guard glanced at where the voice came from. “And why should I let you kill this man?”
“Because he gave me this.” The Samaritan pulled out his right stump where a hand should have been. Then Ezekiel recognized him. He was the netmaker.
The other guard called, “We don’t have time for this foolishness!”
“I take it you have a sword?” the Roman asked.
The Samaritan pulled it out from under his tunic. “Yes, I do,” he said. He spat on the ground next to Ezekiel’s face.
“Then he is all yours.” The Roman turned to leave.
The Samaritan turned to Ezekiel and grabbed him by the back of the cloak while still clutching his blade in the same hand. “When I tell you to scream, you let out a scream like your life depended on it,” he whispered.
Dragging him to an alleyway, he whispered, “Now!” Ezekiel screamed as if he had been stabbed. “Good, that’s enough.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“I recognized you as a Galilean. I couldn’t believe this was the same boy who turned me down because of my heritage. I thought to myself ‘I could let him die’ or ‘I could save his life and have someone who will buy all their nets from me.’” The Samaritan smiled. Ezekiel tried to stand up and staggered.
“Whoa, whoa, easy now. You took quite a beating,” said the Samaritan. Ezekiel started to laugh through his agony.
“What’s so funny?”
“I . . . am out . . . of the . . . fishing . . . business.” This brought a smile to the Samaritan’s face.
“Then you will be in my debt forever then.” And he turned and walked away. Ezekiel tried to stand once more. Once he was able to get his feet under him, he limped back toward the street. Blood was dripping from his nose. He reached up and felt a trickle from his right ear as well.
As the shock wore off, his head became a weight that was difficult to hold up. Pain shot through his whole body, and he fell to the ground. He tried to pick himself back up, but he just fell back down again. Every muscle in his body tensed as he tried to get his bearings. He still had the dagger strapped to his side. He didn’t even have the chance to make the trade. One more try to get up. Wincing in pain, he willed himself to his feet. Putting one foot in front of the other, he began to get his stride once again.
“Ezekiel!” shouted Elyam. Ezekiel could see a blurry shape rushing to his side.
“Ezekiel, my boy, what happened?”
“I won the fight!”
“I’d hate to see what happens when you lose. Come on!” Elyam put Ezekiel’s arm over his shoulder. They limped toward the path leading to their house. On the way Ezekiel could see three figures coming toward them. It was Rina, Aaliyah, and Ester.
“Thank God you found him,” said Aaliyah.
“I told you . . . you were going to get yourself killed!” said Rina. Ester said nothing.
“Bathshua is at home. She needs to rest after making the Passover meal,” Aaliyah said.
“So, let’s get Ezekiel home then.”
“NO!” said Ezekiel. “I need to see what happens! Just give me some of your wine and I will be alright.” Elyam handed him his wineskin, and Ezekiel drank from it hungrily.