“You ignorant fools!” the priest bellowed. “Who could exercise more influence over pestilence than a follower of Satan, the King of Pestilence? Can you not see? Who but a follower of Satan could say to an illness, ‘Leave him!’ and have it be so?” The priest practically spat the last words, but he observed the seated villagers out of the corner of his eyes. He could see by the adoring looks they cast toward the handsome green-eyed man that he had swayed them with his false prophecy. For the moment, the priest knew, they would not listen to reason. His mouth watered with the thought of ridding the world of the despicable blasphemer standing before him, but he feared inciting a riot amid desperate people. He would wait for a better time.

Stepping back, the priest made a quick signal to his footman. The man rushed forward. “At your service, Caiaphas,” he said and forced the stubborn camel to its knees. The priest mounted the beast and, as its legs unfolded, he shouted down, “May God have mercy on your wretched souls!” And with that he departed.

The dust rose and settled on the path behind the three. As they walked, Jesus said nothing. He was too enraged over the confrontation with the priest to speak. His mind replayed the encounter over and over. As he did, his gut boiled with rage. He remembered Shereen’s description of hypocrisy. “A hypocrite is someone who promotes one thing while doing the opposite,” she had said. The priest, Jesus realized, had blamed Jesus for harming the people’s souls, while he stood before them, burdened with finery and coins, and did nothing to relieve their suffering. It was madness!

Ruth, too, had been angered by the interaction. But her anger bent more toward Jesus and his stubborn refusal to hold his tongue.

How long would it be until his behavior and their teachings drew the Temple’s scrutiny? How long until the authorities took action to silence them?

As for the light-haired priest, Ruth had seen enough. She knew all too well of such men’s desire for power and control. And their taste for fine things. Like Jesus, she had wanted to speak against his venom—and that of the skeptical villagers. But before exposing themselves to any more risks, she wanted to ensure that the insights of their foremothers were protected and their future transmission assured. And so, despite the fact that her visions had yet to provide concrete solutions for accomplishing these goals, she drove them on toward Nazareth.

The fisherman leaned into his oars and rowed. A herd of goats standing on the river’s shoreline diminished in size with each stroke. The fisherman’s five-year-old daughter sat at his knees in the hull of the boat, tugging repetitively on a rope.

Ruth huddled with Tabitha in the stern. Jesus knelt in the bow, alone, watching the water slip past.