50. The Centurion

I was born a Roman. My father is a Roman. My mother is a Roman. My family has served for the glory of Rome since it's dawn.

And yet I am here in Jerusalem, banished from my homeland, from my heritage, from my Gods, from my sister; sent to "quell the rebellion."

There is no rebellion here. Not like they described. These people are good. They are quiet. They are compassionate. Sure, they worship a single God with a fanaticism that is sometimes eerie, but they do no harm by it. At times, I am even jealous of their simplicity. How safe it must feel to only have worry about offending only one god instead of our many; to know to whom to turn for aid; to only have one temple, one power, one being.

But that is blasphemy.

This country is beautiful! I have grown to love these trees, this air, this fruit. The people thrive and live with joy.  But I was wrong about the peace within this city; about the one God. It seems there is a division among the Jews. Some say there is only one God, but others say He has a Son, and the Son walks among them. This man -- I have seen him, and he is just a man -- he is not what I would expect from a god. He is certainly no Apollo. He has not the strength of Ares, the speed of Hermes, the ferocity of Poseidon. He is a loon. A passing fad that will be forgotten in a matter of months.

This Jesus, the one they call the Son of God, is beyond description! He has powers only Olympus could wield. How can a man give sight to the blind? How can he open the ears of the deaf? Straighten the legs of a cripple? Cleanse the flesh of a leper? He is man, and yet, he is not. My sister writes that I will anger Zeus if I continue to listen to the teachings of this prophet, but how can I not? Surely Zeus has bestowed his powers on this man, for Hades has not taken him to his domain. Whether he be the son of the Hebrew god I cannot say, but I will not deny what I have seen.

Argos is dying. The apothecary has come and says there is no hope. We have only to wait for his soul to move to his final rest in Hades. He is too young, too good. He will traipse the fields of Elys....that noise...the murmur...it is the Hebrew disciples! Jesus! I have seen him work his miracles. Whether he be Apollo's servant of the son of the Hebrew god I know not, but he can heal this boy!

Fly, Taretius, and beg this healer to mend our little Argos.