He turned, careful to keep his balance on the narrow trail. He took an unsteady step. A rock dropped out of the sky and skimmed along the path behind him. He spun around, raising his staff to fend off whatever was tailing him. But again found nothing.

The sudden movement dizzied him and brought on a sickening bout of vertigo. He took another step. The ground beneath his foot crumbled. His right leg slipped out from under him. His weight transferred to his left leg but it was too weak to hold. For a brief moment, he felt weightless and knew he was falling.

It is over. I am done.

Just before his body hit the ground, Jesus felt a strong and steady force, like the palm of a giant hand, cradle him and lift, ever so slightly, upward.

Then the world went dark.

CHAPTER 9

Somewhere within The Narrows outside ancient Palestine—16 A.D.

Jesus could not yet open his eyes, but his other senses had become alert. He heard dripping water. And hurried whispers. The air felt cool and moist. A sweet smell tickled the insides of his nostrils. He struggled to open his eyes. The whispers rushed and grew louder.

A sudden golden light suffused the space, pushing back the darkness, and he realized his eyes had been open all along. At the edges of his vision, he could discern the interior of a cave. He smelled the acridness of burning oil. Someone had lit a torch. The light steadied. But he saw no one.

He tried to sit up but two hands pressed him back down. He was startled to feel the hands touch his bare skin. He looked down and saw that he was naked. Terrified, he sprang back up, reaching for anything to cover himself. A bolt of pain seared through his leg. Through the flickering light, he saw his shinbone protruding from a deep gash below his knee. Blood pooled between his thighs.

Out of nowhere, a shrill scream pierced the air and reverberated along the stone walls. Jesus went cold. The hurried whispers increased, but he could not understand the words. A hooded figure carried a small torch to the end of the table and touched his broken leg. The pain rang bells in his head.

“No!” he cried. A second figure stood near his chest, holding him down. “No, please!” he cried again, afraid the jinn would kill him. The spirit twisted his leg bone, sending throbbing shards of pain in every direction.

Another scream pierced the darkness, followed by a series of moans.

Had they captured another hapless shepherd?

Jesus felt sick to his stomach. A hooded figure lifted a blood-soaked cloth from between his legs. The horrific sight stole his consciousness and his slackened body fell against the stone slab.