Anna held her own gaze in the shiny metal surface. She marveled at the new person she had become. The ghost, no doubt, of her brother. She imagined returning to her mother. And the pride that would melt across her face.

The mother watched Anna with a sharp eye. “Young man, if you would tell me please, what is your name?”

Anna’s eyes bore into her own image, memorizing her appearance, absorbing it, knowing it. She felt a rush enter her blood and a sense of destiny galvanize her bones. Staring straight into her own eyes, she answered, “My name is Jesus.”

Peter’s mouth dropped. “Of course! Of course!” he cried, shaking the flute at his friend. “You will tell your name to a complete stranger, but not to me!”

The mother held still. Her eyes narrowed. “Where are you from, Jesus?” she asked.

Jesus said nothing. He was matching his chosen name to the face before him. He was being born, a father’s only son, right before their eyes.

“He is from Nazareth. A carpenter’s son,” Peter said, recalling the morning the strange boy had been sold to them. He slapped Jesus on the back. “Look at him,” he teased. “He is falling in love with himself!”

“Jesus of Nazareth,” the mother whispered. She frowned and held out her palm. “That will be three shekels,” she said.

PART TWO
SHEPHERD

CHAPTER 5

Somewhere in the Middle East—12 A.D.

Jesus stood quietly on a hill, balancing on one leg. Time had added length to his body. The hem of his tunic, once at his shins, hung just above his knees. In the two years since joining the shepherds, he had outgrown Peter by several inches, despite his lesser years. Along with the increase in height had come a new adolescent vigor that showed itself in the swelling knots of muscle at his calves and biceps.

When a broad-winged hawk flew overhead, Jesus lifted a hand alongside his mouth and called out in the bird’s throaty cry. Hearing the sound, the creature tipped a wing mid-flight. Jesus cheered at its response. Though it had not been entirely fooled, it had hesitated. And, given that the long solitary hours of shepherding provided ample time for him to practice, Jesus felt certain that the fidelity of his mimicry would soon convince the birds themselves.

Below him, the animals appeared calm and healthy. But Jesus knew that was not so. One of his sheep was sick. Following behind the animals, he had studied the piles of pellets in the tall grass. A few were runny, indicating illness. From Solomon he had learned to observe the sheep’s excrement as a way of gauging the flock’s health. “You can look a sheep in the eyes all day long and never know if it is sick,” he had said. “But what it leaves behind always reveals the truth.”