The Keepers

By Samantha Brooks

Imagine the power of Lucifer as he weaves menacingly in and out of the lives of three women spanning history from ancient Judea to present day New Orleans.
Madrigal, Sophia and Rosalyn are the three chosen women, and they have one thing in common; fate has chosen them to guard a mystical chalice; a vessel so potent that it embodies all knowledge available to humanity for the propagation of good— or if Lucifer has his way—of pure evil. Lucifer’s intent is clear, but his methods are hindered by a single detail he overlooked. Listen to his voice as he tells us about his unusual dilemma...
“The Creator fashioned two beings in His likeness, but more than that, they were as equals, one to the other. It was, however, the first of his creations that troubled me---the woman of the species. Her creation came very close to devastating me. And so, at long last, with much misgiving, I knew what had to be done. I had to find a way to diminish her power, eliminate her influence and destroy her utterly. If I could not find it in my heart to do that, everything I had dreamed about, all of my schemes and plans for the destruction of this race of beings would be brought forever to a halt.”
Madrigal, Sophia and Rosalyn are the keepers and each one in her turn must find the chalice, recognize its power, then wage a battle of wits against those who would use it to eliminate its true purpose; the restoration of the sacred balance between man and woman.
The task is an arduous one. At every turn, each woman must face daunting challenges, all of which are orchestrated by the embodiment of evil---Lucifer himself. His unrelenting quest for domination infuses The Keepers with angst as Lucifer attempts to thwart the passage of the chalice safely through the ages until it finally reaches the present. Here, Rosalyn finds it and with that discovery, she is swept up in bizarre and chaotic events that threaten not only her own life, but also the very existence of the world as we know it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samantha Brooks
• Release date: Dec 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466036703

Samantha Brooks

Samantha Brooks divides her time between Ontario and Florida. The Keepers is her second novel. She is currently working on her third. Her previously published book, The Pearl Tea House,is available on most ereaders.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

I have existed since time began and I expect I shall witness its demise. If you ask me what the nature of my work is I would tell you that it is manifold. It is a labor both cunning and delightful, challenging yet simple. But perhaps its greatest yield lies in its limitless rewards. Often it requires infinite patience but that is of little consequence, since I am as old as time itself and patience has been bred into my very heart and soul.

I exist to manipulate mankind solely for the fermentation of evil and to eliminate all that the Creator has deemed righteous and good. I observe the hive of humanity from the sanctuary of my lofty place high above in the fields of nowhere. It is a place from which I can conduct my odious symphonies and fashion my disfigured maps. The ponderous passage of time has provided me with a wealth of human ignorance to observe and manipulate. And with time always comes a new and fresh tableau upon which to paint my evil scenarios.

But alas, it was not always so. At one time my purpose was to please the Creator. I know not how long I remained in that state. But I know when the end came. Some said jealously was the cause but I blame the Creator for all that has happened since. It was His nature, not mine that caused us to fall out. He was not content to leave matters undisturbed as they had been for so many millenniums but was at constant pains to fashion and refashion His creations. I remained unperturbed by His decision to establish mankind, but it became intolerable when he arrived at the misguided conclusion that this race of humans should be imbued with the detestable concept of free will. I quickly renounced this decision and took my leave.

Owing largely to His foolishness in giving mankind the freedom to choose between good and evil, my task has remained surprisingly uncomplicated. My purpose is to pit good against evil. Torture, famine, wantonness, depravity; all of these and more have I introduced and mankind has embraced them all. Free will indeed! The entire concept is absurd, laughable.

I bore witness to the first human to come forth from the Creator’s busy endeavors. It was a man. But of particular interest to me was the creation of a companion for this man. I had no precognition of the Creator’s intent. And when at last I saw what He had fashioned I was staggered by its significance. So great was its import that I cannot even begin to describe this event with any degree of accuracy. And to think, never did I have an inkling of what was on His mind! But when I first beheld the woman I was left breathless with awe; staggered by the scope of His accomplishment.

He had fashioned two beings in His likeness; but more than that they were as equals, one to the other. But it was not the man that troubled me; it was the woman. Her creation came very near to devastating me. Nay! It was far worse than that! It placed me precariously close to my own destruction! I knew at once the power I faced. And I knew at once that if I did not find a way to eliminate her influence, she would completely dismantle, destroy and forever bury my burning objectives; the very objectives I had striven so long and hard to obtain and finally to put into place.

But my aforementioned conclusions were not so easily overcome and for that I can barely forgive myself. Quite simply put, I became completely enamored and intrigued by this woman. I know not how long I studied her but I became intimately aware of her every breath, her every move, her every thought, word and deed. Her scent was intoxicating. I was captivated by her wisdom, awed by her power and drunk with her beauty. I was infatuated with every aspect of her being. And very soon I knew that I loved her deeply, intensely, madly. But I knew, too, that if I continued along this path, all would be lost.

Slowly, very slowly, I began to reclaim some of my lost perspective. This woman would be an equal to the man, that was my first coherent thought. A mere thought it was at first, but like a seedling first emerging it took root, growing stronger with each passing moment until I realized that although she was intended to be an equal, she would never, could never, be that. She would surpass this earthbound man, leaving him far behind, helplessly buffeted about by her heady wake and bereft of all influence; my influence.

And so at long last, with much misgiving, I knew what had to be done. I had to find a way to diminish her power, eliminate her influence, and destroy her utterly. If I could not find it in my heart to do that, everything I had dreamed about, all of my schemes and plans for the destruction of mankind would be brought forever to a halt. If I did not succeed in this, if I did not rouse myself from this entrancement, this woman, this indescribably beautiful, bountiful creation would forever change the course of mankind and my ambitions, my dreams of many lifetimes would be lost.

The time had come to return to my work. But I would have to dig deeper into my imagination to accomplish my desired ends. And so, as you might have surmised, I have embarked upon a new and wondrous plan. Behold two people! Madrigal and Japhet; one of whom is the embodiment of goodness, the other of evil. Watch and heed them closely for they are the instruments of a strategy, which, dare I say it, is already beginning to bear fruit. It is a plan of which I am most proud. It is the greatest plan of all time.

And it will not fail.

Chapter One

Madrigal

The hill was desolate and isolated; a cold place studded with a few large boulders that clung to it precariously. Trees were sparse and bare. It was a place abandoned by God, left to those who would use it for evil. People did not come here often. And when they did it was to watch and wait until the condemned had been nailed to a cross and left to hang until they died.

Today was one such day. The condemned was a young man. He bore no resemblance to the person he had been. Even before his killers had driven nails through his hands and feet he had been beaten unmercifully. His once serene face was now a mask of anguish and his strong body brutalized into submission. Those who had inflicted his punishment stood at the base of his cross, oblivious to what they had done, casting lots to see which one would get his robes. His family and his friends looked on helplessly.

And when he was almost dead, an unexpected wind arose from the valley on the opposite side of the hill, whipping up sand that stung the faces of everyone. People blinked and wiped their eyes. Sand was gritty between their teeth. Some spat it out. But no one spoke. White clouds turned gray and the wind intensified. A storm was approaching.

The gray clouds suddenly turned black, hovering over the people who stood beneath his cross. The storm was approaching very fast, but no one sought shelter; there was none. A jagged shard of lightning sliced through the black clouds briefly igniting the scene with an unearthly glow. The armor of those who had done this deed was reflected in the flash. Their spears dripping with blood and flesh remained steady in their grip.

Thunder followed. It began as a shallow rumble then crashed with such force that the earth shook. A murmur went up among those who watched. Then came the rain, mingling with the tears on their faces, washing the blood from the man dying on the cross.

The soldiers huddled together, their voices barely audible above the roar of the wind and rain. One of them stepped forward and plunged his spear into the side of the man on the cross. Another slash of lightning tore through the black clouds. The sound of women weeping was muted by a shattering explosion of thunder. And when they looked up at the cross, they knew he was dead.

***

Yeshua! Madrigal was jolted awake by the sound of her own voice. A loud clap of thunder followed and for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. But her skin was wet with perspiration and the dank smell in the ship’s hold made her stomach churn. Her robes were damp and clung to her body. And then she remembered. It was the first time since the voyage began that the seas were stormy.

Her companions lay around her, sprawled in awkward positions, trying to find as much comfort as they could in the cramped hold. Madrigal moved away from the beam she had been leaning against, and crawled toward the rickety stairs leading up to the hatch. She did not care about the storm; she needed fresh air. She needed to escape her dream.

The wind caught the hatch when she pushed it open, slamming it hard against the deck. Rain slashed her face but she ignored it; she was determined to leave the hold. The storm was at its peak and Madrigal had to crawl along the deck before she found the rail. Standing proved difficult, but clinging tenaciously to the rail she pulled herself up and stared into the wild sea. When she glanced up the wind caught her long hair whipping it wildly around her. The sky was black; she saw no stars. But she knew it was only a tempest and soon it would be over.

Soaked through to the skin, Madrigal remained at the rail until the wind died down. The pelting rain dwindled to a drizzle, then stopped. A brooding star burst forth and plunged into the night sky, its fiery arch lighting up the night. It seemed a fitting signal marking the enormity of the task that had been entrusted to her.

A chilly breeze descended and Madrigal nestled deeper into the folds of her cloak. A long sigh escaped her full lips. Would this tortuous journey never end? Their departure from the Port of Alexandria had been undertaken in haste but that had seemed a lifetime ago. She and her companions had borne the journey reasonably well, but time was taking its toll. Nerves were frayed. They were all eager to reach the land of Gaul where her mother’s family awaited them.

Madrigal glanced up at the sky. Thousands of stars had reappeared, and she vaguely wondered if her mother Ruth was seeing the same stars in Judea. If she were, it would be the only thing they shared right now. It was a simple thought but it gave Madrigal comfort. Her heart swelled and she felt a bond with her mother that caused the great distance between them to briefly vanish.

Ruth had been first to recognize Madrigal’s distinctive powers. It was not a cataclysmic event that marked this revelation, but rather something quite simple; Madrigal’s eyes had changed color. From birth they had been blue. Then suddenly one day she woke up and Ruth noted with astonishment that her daughter’s irises were ringed with black, and the blue was flecked with moss green shards.

Madrigal recalled that moment fondly, and smiled to herself. She was only six years old at the time, but even now she remembered it as a defining moment in her life. From that day forward Ruth began instructing Madrigal in the ways of their tribe, the Essence Mystics who dwelled in the village of Qumran near the Great Salt Sea. It was a world of mystery that Ruth presented; a world where the teachings had very little to do with sums or the alphabet. And Madrigal marveled and flourished under her mother’s gentle tutelage.

Madrigal raised her hand and pushed back her hair. The breeze had grown cool and soft. It reminded her of the touch of her mother’s hand as they climbed the stairs to the second floor of their home high in the hills of Jerusalem where they lived among the very rich. Here in the magnificent dwelling that bore the name of the House of Asher Ruth had her own private place; a sanctuary filled with many wonders and artifacts that had been passed down to her by her family. And it was here that Ruth guided Madrigal through generations of ancient wisdom. A small but generous garden lay just beneath this room where mother and daughter gathered herbs and ground them into a fine powder that filled the room with indescribable aromatic fragrances. Ruth taught Madrigal how best to combine each fragrance and how to use their special properties to heal the body, lift the spirit and foretell the future. The mysteries of the invisible world were introduced to her in this place and Madrigal eagerly embraced them. She explored her nascent powers of seeing into the future and discovered that most people would never have the privilege of knowing these things. Most people would remain forever trapped in the mundane world of earthly drudgery.

These were the years of transition from childhood to adolescence. They were also years of enchantment and horror, good and evil; powerful forces with which Madrigal had since become intimately familiar. Perhaps, she mused, even her intimate brushes with evil had helped further her own powers; to nurture and strengthen the identity which she now possessed.

In an odd twist of fate it was Madrigal’s association with two male friends, Japhet and Yeshua which had set her adrift on a sea of events that would change her life forever. Poignant thoughts tugged unmercifully at her heart and her mother’s words still haunted her. ‘There will be those who will never know the world of the spirit that lies just beyond our reach,’ Ruth had said.

Madrigal’s friend Japhet was one of those. He had matured into the embodiment of evil while her friend and spiritual mentor, Yeshua, was the heart and soul of goodness. With Japhet, Madrigal’s life had become an intricate game for survival but with Yeshua she had blossomed into a woman filled with the ripened fruits of intense spiritual awakening. No single person was to blame for the memories that were now an intricate part of who she had become; all of it was preordained by a much higher power. She knew this and although it comforted her she never ceased to be amazed by the events of just a few short years; events that invariably came back to Japhet and Yeshua. She tried to put him out of her thoughts. Oh God, how many times had she tried?! But it seemed that with each attempt memories of him and his influence invaded her heart with even greater intensity. This night, far from Judea and adrift on an endless sea, was no different. Yeshua was with her, as vivid as life itself, replete with all the knowledge he had imparted to her. How could such a holy and mystical time have caused such unimaginable grief?

Lost in turbulent memories, Madrigal became like the ship floundering in raging seas. She would never be able to dull the pain of those final few weeks in Judea when her entire world had collapsed around her; when all she could do was watch, and then flee. She recalled the weeks preceding her departure and the image of Yeshua loomed large in her mind.

He was standing on the crest of a hill just beyond the gates of Jerusalem. His arms were outstretched. His white cloak hung from his tall, lean figure as he welcomed hundreds of followers who had come to hear him speak of his Father; a wondrous God who emanated love and spoke of forgiveness rather than vengeance. A God for all men, for all time. Madrigal saw Yeshua’s face, his smile exuding benevolence, even for the most depraved and forgotten of souls. He spoke words that should have led to peace. But instead they led to a spiral of death and destruction. The powerful Sanhedrin, a sect of Judean Governors, sought to slowly and methodically ruin him lest his God of promise lead to their own ruination. Terrified of losing their power, they plotted his demise until it became dangerous to even be thought of as a follower of the new Prophet. And as the threat of uprisings grew, the Romans drifted toward the Sanhedrin, knowing that only Yeshua’s elimination would restore Judea to the kind of order that would please the Roman Emperor. Soon, the smell of fear was everywhere. People were forced to huddle in secret to speak of Yeshua’s new way of thinking; speaking of it openly was to court danger and even death.

Madrigal glanced heavenward again. The moon, suspended like a jeweled orb in the midst of a black canvas told her that the merchant ship was passing through the depths of the night. And as danger and death lingered in her thoughts, Madrigal could no longer avoid what she so desperately had been trying to do; eliminate all thoughts about the person who had ultimately been responsible for her flight from Judea and condemning Yeshua to a terrible fate.

Japhet. She shuddered at the very thought of him. Beneath her, the waves gently brushed the ship’s hull like tiny bursts of clapping hands. The sound washed over her and she was a child once again at play in the courtyard of her home in Jerusalem. The House of Asher was a magnificent dwelling bordered by rows of Cypress trees. The courtyard where Madrigal and her little friends played was decorated with millions of colorful mosaic tiles which the children were trying to count with their bare feet. As always the game eventually bred boredom and soon Japhet, a precocious and very bright seven year old boy encouraged them to retrieve their sandals and follow him out into the square beyond. Madrigal did not hesitate. She adored Japhet and eagerly pursued him. Japhet was that way; he was the leader, the others all willingly followed. No one was as fun loving as Japhet. None possessed his sense of adventure or generosity of spirit. He was a sparkling star among otherwise typical children. And Madrigal could not understand how someone like that could have grown up to be so utterly bad.

Sea spray tingled Madrigal’s face and she wiped it away with her veil. The sky had completely cleared. It promised to be a long night, but perhaps it would be the last aboard this old vessel. Madrigal inhaled; the air had changed. The pungent aroma of damp moss was borne on the wind. It pervaded her soul, overwhelming her with joy and relief. It was the smell of the earth, of green trees and scented flowers. Her heart soared and as it took flight she could not resist remembering her first meeting with Yeshua.

She had been out walking with Japhet; even in their adolescent years they had remained close, fast friends. It was mid-afternoon in Jerusalem and the air was thick and humid. The earthy odor of fresh hay along with the remains of burnt offerings hung heavy over the city. Clutches of men, some young, some old, lingered and chatted animatedly. Women dipped clay urns into the well in the city square and merchants cried out inviting people to buy their wares. Here and there a Scribe could be seen standing slightly above a small group, on a stair perhaps, instructing the willing on the laws of the prophets. Like everyone else in Jerusalem, they had heard rumors of an extraordinary but controversial young man who many claimed was a new prophet. Neither Japhet nor Madrigal had heard the young man speak, but as they rounded a street corner and entered the city square all of that was about to change, altering the map of Madrigal’s life forever.

Come, Madrigal! Look. It is Eleazar and Nathaniel, Japhet cried, pointing toward two young men lounging next to the fountain in the city square. A third young man stood with them, a man Madrigal had never before seen. She suspected Japhet did not know him either. Like the others, the unknown young man had turned in response to Japhet’s call. Madrigal would later remember it as an event that was both curious and spellbinding. Eleazar, Nathaniel and even Japhet slowly began to recede from Madrigal’s world as the presence of the unidentified young man gained in prominence. He was all that she could see. His rich green eyes pierced the distance between them shattering it until it seemed that only she and he existed. A wondrous force borne along by an errant breeze enveloped her and as the young stranger’s eyes held hers, Madrigal saw in their depths an inner passion shaded with a disturbing sense of impending anguish. Overwhelmed, Madrigal remained rooted where she stood. Japhet, though, began striding confidently across the square. When he noticed that Madrigal was not following he stopped and turned around.

Hurry, Madrigal! What detains you? Japhet demanded. What is the matter? You look pale.

Japhet returned to Madrigal’s side and grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him.

Who is that young man with Eleazar and Nathaniel? Madrigal asked when finally she found her voice.

I do not know. Make haste and we shall find out, Japhet replied.

Madrigal allowed Japhet to lead her across the busy square toward the fountain where the three young men were chatting. Common pleasantries were exchanged and then Nathaniel introduced them to the young stranger. His name was Yeshua. Madrigal noted that he was quite tall. But Madrigal was tall, too, and was able to look directly into his eyes, which still held her in a grip of intense scrutiny. This silent exchange transpired quickly, but to Madrigal it seemed to linger. The relentlessness with which Yeshua studied her unearthed a curious well of kinship that surged deep within her soul, permitting her to languish boldly under his watchful eyes. The noise and clamor in the busy square ebbed and flowed. The babble of pleasantries had given way to talk of matters more serious, political matters which in Judea were a favorite topic. Yeshua’s voice dominated the group with a resonant, spellbinding quality. He spoke with calm authority that some would later claim bordered on arrogance. And as the words streamed from his lips it became clear to both Madrigal and Japhet that this was the extraordinary young man who so many in Jerusalem had become enamored with. This was the young prophet called Yeshua.

The intense heat coupled with the pungent aroma of food and fires clouded Madrigal’s senses, plunging her into an intoxicating trance. Spring had descended rapidly upon Judea that year; it was unseasonably damp and the heat was suffocating. But Madrigal knew that it was not the vagaries of the weather that had induced this feverish flush within. It was Yeshua’s all consuming presence and his uncanny worldly wisdom that had captured and enthralled her. As he spoke, Yeshua’s eyes never left her and Madrigal felt her trance deepen while her heart opened wide allowing Yeshua’s spirit to enter. Quick though the feeling was, it comprised such raw magnetism that it touched her, eliminating all apprehension and leaving her cocooned within a sacred center of calm. Here was a young man whose soul and mind were in such harmony with her own that it placed her, with indescribable effortlessness, into the lofty realm of the spirit. And as Madrigal stood there withering in the heat, she watched awestruck as tiny particles drifted down from the heavens, whirling around Yeshua in a shower of glittering white crystals. Yeshua took no notice of the phenomenon, but continued to expound upon the religious and political turmoil in Judea. The others, too, noticed nothing. Yeshua’s eyes never left Madrigals and though his words were intended for all of them, Madrigal knew that it was only she who understood their true meaning.

An insistent tug at her elbow interrupted Madrigal’s euphoria and reluctantly she wrested her eyes from Yeshua to find that it was Japhet. Clearly, he had heard enough, and was anxious to be away. How curious, Madrigal mused. Japhet was an incorrigible socialite and rarely, if ever, did he walk away from a spirited discussion. Madrigal remarked that Eleazar and Nathaniel had no intention of leaving and she, too, wanted to stay. But as Japhet’s grip on her arm grew more urgent she realized that to resist him further would invite embarrassment and grudgingly she succumbed to his wishes. But Japhet’s impatience did not go unnoticed. Yeshua recognized his urgency to leave but purposefully ignoring it he continued addressing Madrigal with even more directness.

Madrigal. Hear me before you leave and be assured that we shall meet again very soon.

Madrigal knew his words were providential. She had been wondering if and when they would meet again and Yeshua’s remark had instilled in her a sense of relief. From the moment he’d set eyes on her from across the square she knew that this extraordinary young man would somehow unlock the mysteries still lodged in her soul. A special truth resided between she and Yeshua and although it remained unspoken, it would soon be revealed. With his eyes still locked on hers, Yeshua imparted only a fragment of the power he possessed but it was enough to capture her soul in an unspoken but intense bond of kinship.

A lightheaded feeling washed over Madrigal and had Japhet not been standing close by plaguing her with his insistent tugs she would have collapsed onto the cobblestones. Instead, she fell against his shoulder. Taken aback, Japhet looked at her with confusion but Yeshua quickly reached out and gripping Madrigal’s shoulders he led her to sit on the edge of the well. Here he raised a ladle and bade her to drink, cupping her quivering fingers with his hands to assist her. Yeshua’s touch, both commanding and gentle revived her and looking up into his green eyes Madrigal allowed herself the privilege of basking in his light.

She would have remained seated there with him indefinitely but a discomforting sensation between her shoulders made her squirm. It was cold and painful, like the pierce of a dagger. And when she turned to discover the cause of it, she saw Japhet. But it was not the Japhet she had known since childhood, playful and gregarious. It was someone else. Someone she did not know. It was Japhet as she had never before seen him. His face, which Madrigal had once considered aristocratic and handsome, had drained of color rendering his skin a pale gray. His perfectly arched mouth was transformed into a hard line and in the depths of his hazel eyes Madrigal saw something else that she had never seen before. Hatred and jealousy.

A dizzying array of strange emotions assailed her then, rendering her completely overcome with confusion. Pushing away the ladle of water that Yeshua still held to her lips, she stood up. Uttering fragmented words of departure, Madrigal made her way to Japhet’s side. Foolishly, she thought this would appease him, perhaps even dispel the twisted look of disdain in his eyes. But it did not. And as Japhet roughly grabbed her elbow steering her away from the three young men, she looked askance at him only to find his features chiseled and hard and his eyes smoldering with silent rage.

By now, Japhet was almost dragging Madrigal across the square. When the road curved toward the Upper City, Madrigal finally pulled away from his grasp and leaned against a nearby wall. She was gasping for breath, and for an instant, her vision blurred. Clutching her silk veil, she wiped the perspiration from her face and eyes. Japhet made no effort to come to her aid but stood aloof and at a distance. His scowl had deepened and he was glancing down at the cobblestones. When he looked up Madrigal noticed that his face was infused with a red glow. He was grinding his teeth; and the sight of it filled her with a sickening nausea. Gathering her composure, she adjusted her veil, pushed away from the wall and walked past Japhet. But like a beast hunting its prey Japhet pursued her and in an instant his hand had encircled her arm, pressing his fingers into her flesh with such force that she uttered a little cry of pain. He spun her around until she faced him. Japhet was gasping for breath as though he had been running.

Do you take me for a fool?! Do you think I did not know what went on back there at the well? What do you think you are doing!? His words were a hiss, sliding around her like a snake.

Madrigal wrenched her arm from Japhet’s grip and met his gaze, straight on. His face was contorted with so many conflicting emotions that Madrigal found it difficult to even begin sorting them out. But one thing she clearly understood; the years of innocent friendship between them had ended that very afternoon, in the city square. And Yeshua had been the cause of it.

You might want to ask yourself the same thing, Japhet!

Madrigal hurled the words at him and walked away. Japhet trailed after her. She was painfully aware that their confrontation was beginning to attract attention; people were turning to stare at them. Madrigal knew what was about to happen and desperately tried to put as much distance as possible between she and Japhet. Behind her, she could hear him running, trying to keep up with her broad stride. But he soon caught up with her and again reaching out, gripped her arm roughly. This time she stood her ground; a confrontation was unavoidable.

Do not try to avoid this, Madrigal! I saw the way you looked at him; the way he looked at you!

You have a filthy mind, Japhet. I did not know you were capable of such thoughts. Madrigal spat out the words, ashamed by her own mounting rage.

How else am I to interpret what happened in the square? His eyes never left you. He was enthralled, enraptured. And you! Never did you waver under his scrutiny!

Stop this, Japhet. You are mistaken. It was not as it appeared, Madrigal countered.

Then enlighten me, Madrigal! What is it that I did not understand?!

Madrigal turned away and peered into the distance. Stillness began to settle over the city as merchants closed their shops. It was eerie. Japhet’s words lingered in her mind, scathing and painful. He had seen through it all and had been right. But he had mistaken the attraction between she and Yeshua; it was not of the flesh, as he had described it. And yet she was not about to tell him that it was beyond all things earthly; that it soared into the realm of the spirit. Japhet would neither believe it nor understand it. She began to walk away from him but his tenaciousness was unstoppable; she could hear the sound of his footsteps clamping hard upon the cobblestones as he ran to keep pace with her. But Japhet was swift and in another moment he was standing before her, blocking her path. When he placed his hands upon her shoulders, Madrigal was aware that he was trying another approach, a gentler one. But she knew it wouldn’t work; she could feel his palms, sweaty and trembling against her shoulders, and filled with revulsion Madrigal stepped back. She was confused and deeply disturbed that she should have such feelings for someone who once meant so much to her.

I have heard much talk about this man; this so-called new prophet, Japhet whispered. His face was so close to hers that she could see the red veins mapping the whites of his eyes. I know much more about this man than you do, Madrigal. And that is why you must hear me out.

Tell me. What have you heard? She asked, hoping to appease his wrath.

He is denouncing the teachings of the old prophets. The people are confused. They do not know what to believe anymore. And yet, his followers are increasing daily. Madrigal, the authorities have been watching him; the Romans and the Sanhedrin. It is rumored that very soon those who follow him will be detained and questioned. He is disturbing the peace, Madrigal.

Japhet’s words gave her pause; she did not know this, but she did not care, either. Her resolve stiffened and she refused to allow him to influence her. Japhet’s face, meanwhile, was still contorted with jealousy and hatred. Madrigal knew instinctively that his words were the result of these emotions; they were not born of justice, or fairness. She looked into Japhet‘s eyes and did not like what she saw reflected in their icy depths.

I am old enough to make my own decisions; to choose my own path, Japhet. You keep your own counsel and I will keep mine.

Those were Madrigal’s parting words. She turned on her heels and fled toward the Upper City. Japhet ran after her, but his feet felt heavy as though deadened by the weight of a great anchor. He could barely move, let alone run. But Madrigal fled quickly rounding the bend in the road ahead until she disappeared from sight leaving Japhet breathless and alone in the street.

Chapter Two

The sound of the ships’ hatch creaking open shattered Madrigal’s journey back to the past and with it the image of Japhet vanished like the morning mist upon the sea. The sound of voices reached out to her and turning from the rail she saw her companions on the deck. All were restive, stretching and yawning after yet another night in cramped quarters. Madrigal glanced at them, her eyes searching for Joseph. As usual he stood apart from the group with only his wife Miriam at his side. Madrigal studied him a moment; she knew he shared her thoughts. Joseph, meanwhile, always mindful of Madrigal’s well-being, caught her gaze and joined her.

Another sleepless night, I suppose, he said, touching her arm gently. Madrigal looked up at him. Although he had weathered much pain, Joseph’s eyes sparkled with joy even as he tried injecting a note of reprimand in his voice.

I think we will make landfall soon, she said. The air, can you smell it, Joseph? she asked.

Yes, he said. And anxious to recapture the welcome scent of land, Joseph inhaled deeply, his broad chest swelling. A smile crossed his face. Unlike the others, Joseph was deeply tanned. Despite their long sojourn at sea, he had spent most of his time on deck, watching and waiting for this very moment.

As soon as I opened the hatch I could tell that land was near, he said rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. But you must go below now, Madrigal and see to the safety of the Chalice. We cannot allow it to be discovered upon our arrival.

You have hidden it well? Madrigal inquired.

Joseph nodded. Behind a blue bolt of silk you will find strips of old leather cloth. Gather them, then open the cedar trunk. There you will find the Chalice underneath some trivial belongings. Wrap it in the leather cloth and use some twine to tie it up. You will be able to carry it then, unnoticed.

Madrigal touched his cheek. His skin felt rough from long days spent watching the empty sea like a vigilant beacon guiding their way.

You are a wise man, Joseph. I do not know what I should have done without you.

It has not been an easy voyage for any of us, Madrigal. And it has been made even more unbearable by my continued longing for our homeland, and the constant anguish over the safety of those we left behind. But now you must go below. No one will disturb you. Land is drawing near and you will need your strength for our arrival.

Despite his brave face, Madrigal knew the anguish he suffered. But what could she offer to soothe his soul when she herself suffered the same pangs of longing? Joseph’s face briefly softened and his blue eyes twinkled. Then, with a cursory nod toward her companions, Madrigal slipped into the hatch and disappeared below.

The remains of the morning meal had been stowed away, but the faint odor of bread and cheese still lingered in the dank hold. Madrigal’s stomach churned. She could not eat another meal aboard this vessel. Joseph was right; she needed to rest, but first the Chalice had to be dealt with. Behind the blue bolt of silk, she found the old cloth and gathering it up she crawled toward the cedar trunk. The lid creaked as she opened it then pushing aside some things she had stored, Madrigal found what she was looking for.

It lay on the bottom of the trunk. She plunged both hands inside, lifted the Chalice out and placed it on the planking. She leaned back on her heels a moment and just stared. The mere sight of it never failed to exhilarate her. Crafted of copper, anyone seeing the Chalice for the first time would never consider it beautiful; it was dented and worn in places. The only thing of note was its lid which was embedded with a flat clear crystal. Madrigal removed the lid and looked inside. White metal strips were crafted into its sides and lodged firmly on the bottom was a brilliant ruby. Whenever Madrigal beheld the Chalice she remembered the day it had come into her possession. It had been the very last time she saw Yeshua. He had been speaking to a throng of followers just beyond Jerusalem. The sun had been unspeakably hot and when his sermon had ended Madrigal sought the shade of an olive grove. Soon she heard footsteps approach and turning she saw Joseph standing behind her. He held out a bundle wrapped in an old leather cloth and urged her to take it. Yeshua wants you to have this, Joseph had said. He assured me that only you will know its significance.

Even now, hunched in the cramped hold, removing the leather cloth from the Chalice, its power humbled her. The importance of what had been entrusted to her was staggering. And memories, never forgotten, flourished once again, taking her back to Judea.

Madrigal’s remarkable abilities had left Ruth little alternative but to consult with her husband, Samuel. After much consideration both of them concluded that their daughter could learn no more from the elders in the Temple in Jerusalem. Madrigal was soaring well beyond the knowledge they had already imparted. It was clear that she yearned for more. They would send her to Qumran, the desert town near the Great Salt Sea. The Essenes dwelled here, peacefully devoting their lives understanding God’s teachings. In Qumran she would be taught how to cleanse her mind and emotions through meditation to more easily facilitate her energy flow from the physical to the spiritual world. Madrigal knew she was ready for this, and although she was loathe to leave her family she was anxious to be away.

The pursuit of higher learning was not the only reason for Madrigal’s desire to be away from Jerusalem. Many months had passed since her altercation with Japhet but still she felt a growing distance between them. Japhet had long since preferred to ignore what had happened that day in the square and still visited and walked with her. But Madrigal felt decidedly uncomfortable in his presence, and could think of no way to dismiss him with finality. Qumran had provided her with just the excuse she needed. When she finally told Japhet that she would be spending four years there among the Mystics of the desert, she discovered to her surprise that she needn’t have worried at all; he, too, was leaving Jerusalem for Antioch where he would attend an academy for instruction in the law. When you see me next, I shall be a Scribe, he had said, smiling, and then added with a decisively sinister air: And then I will be eligible to join the Sanhedrin where I shall effect real changes.

They parted on terms Madrigal considered inanely pleasant but which Japhet thought were genuine and warm. Madrigal realized then that deception was all he was capable of; she could expect no depth of emotion from Japhet. Qumran would give her the distance from him that she needed. And once there, she would have no other alternative but to terminate all personal contact with Japhet by the simple means of distance. On the face of it, Madrigal’s plan appeared simple enough. But it would not unfold this way.

The town of Qumran was an unusual hive of activity in an otherwise barren desert. It was home to the Essenes, the revered Tribe of Mystics; all of them direct descendants of King David. They had turned the desert into a magical place of higher learning and had also tempered the unforgiving landscape with innovations that made living there a surreal experience. Somehow, they had used the power of their bodies to find water; the presence of quaint wells scattered here and there, attested to that. And though the desert around the village was stark, the Essenes had managed to use the few palm trees available to yield maximum shade. Wherever a tree or cactus thrived, charming limestone dwellings were clustered, giving the place a welcome, lived in look.

The first few weeks at Qumran were difficult for Madrigal. She missed her family and her home dreadfully. But when she remembered why she was here, her loneliness diminished; her powers were latent, raw and uncontrolled and she had little mastery over their strength or when and how to use them. She had the gifts of a seer, but not the means of summoning what was important. She had the herbs to heal but not the knowledge to render them potent and most of all she had awakened the spirit of God within her but had not yet the means to use the light to battle evil.

The Essenes embraced Madrigal with enthusiasm. They had already heard much about her from her teachers in Jerusalem and so she was not quite a stranger. And like everyone else who met Madrigal for the first time it was her green flecked blue eyes ringed with black that they found most compelling.

Madrigal’s formal instruction began with a concept of which she was only vaguely aware; that the body had seven centers of energy. Each one had its own unique powers and could be used to great effect when properly taught. These lessons went on for weeks. Most in her group were able to grasp the concept, but very few were able to convert what they learned