“You speak with wisdom, Judas,” Solomon said with a nod. His heart ached, having learned from the village women of his mother’s violent death. But he knew that Zahra had accepted the risks of her path. Just as he knew she would expect him to carry on. Strengthened by this knowledge, he lifted his chest and faced the others. “Gather yourselves!” he shouted. “We are off!”

Anna felt Judas’s arm tighten and lift her into the air. She came down hard on a donkey’s back. Judas wrapped the lead rope around his wrist, tapped the animal’s head, and stepped forward. He swung a crooked staff ahead of each step and stared out with vacant eyes.

Whistles, like extravagant birdcalls, looped through the air, followed by the nickers and whinnies of sheep. Like a single entity, the shepherds and their flocks lumbered toward the rising sun.

CHAPTER 4

Desert region outside of ancient Palestine—10 A.D.

Anna swayed headless atop the donkey. She had sunk her face into the collar of her tunic to deflect the sun. And to hide from the surrounding danger. She hoped that if she could not see the dirty shepherds, they might somehow disappear. Might leave her unharmed.

Her hands had gone numb hours ago. She could no longer feel, the coin-sized blisters rising along the sides of her fingers where she gripped the blanket. Beneath her, the donkey’s sweat soaked into her legs and buttocks, staining the lower half of her tunic with hair and froth.

The sun shimmered overhead, pressing light and heat into the ground. To Anna, the journey seemed monotonous. Heat was the only constant. She could not appreciate the litany of subtle hand signals and whistles through which Solomon steered his band across the mountains and down into the arid valley below. She also did not notice the frequent changes in the group’s pace as it slowed or sped with the rise and fall of the day’s temperature.

Every few hours, a young boy, who appeared not much older than Anna, scurried through the flocks hauling a goatskin of water and a wooden ladle. He carried the skin to Judas and walked alongside him as he drank. The elder shepherd relished several gulps, smacked his lips, and returned the ladle. When the boy turned to go, Judas snatched him by the collar and yanked him back. He motioned behind them. “You have forgotten one.”

The boy shook his head. “He refuses to drink.”

“Try again,” Judas insisted.

The boy shrugged and trotted back. When he approached Anna’s feet, she wrapped the tunic tighter about her face, despite the stifling discomfort.

The boy stumbled alongside the donkey and lifted the skin. Anna ignored him.

“How can you not drink? Are you part camel?” he joked, hoping to cajole a response.