ISBN: 9781483522593
The work that you are holding in your hands is fiction. The facts concerning the particular characters taken from scripture are true. The events concerning those particular characters are what “could have happened” if this particular character had interacted with their lives.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all those who try to do the right thing with their lives and with their words. Don’t get discouraged when what is right goes against what your pride or what the people around you say. My pastor used to always say, “It’s never wrong to do right, and it’s never right to do wrong.” In my opinion, God blesses those whose motivation is to do right.
The thoughts of the righteous are right: but the counsels of the wicked are deceit. – Proverbs 12:5
When a man’s ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him. – Proverbs 16:7
The Little Champion
“Fresh fish!” A heavy set man, draped in a fine robe, called out. In his servant’s hand was a large fish, still wiggling from the catch of the day. The boy ducked to keep from being slapped by the fish’s tail.
“I can see that you are a man of great taste.” Another market voice chimed. “May I interest you in some jewelry that makes the others pale in comparison?” The boy rolled his eyes and hurried off to the blacksmith shop. This town always amazed him with new merchants coming in and going out on the ships of the Caesarean shoreline.
He slowly approached his father, who was banging and shaping a piece of red hot metal. No matter how many times he’d walked around, he seemed to always find something new in his father’s shop.
“What’s this?” The boy asked as he picked up an obscure piece of metal.
“I’m glad that you asked. That is the rest of this.” His father said as he lifted a large wooden shield from the ground.
Instantly the boy could see where the metal piece in his hand went on the shield. He snapped the piece into the cut grooves and his father patted his shoulder.
“That’s right. Tallow my boy.” He chuckled. “I knew this would rub onto you some day.”
Tallow handed his father the burlap sack his mother gave him.
“What’s this?” His father asked as he felt the sack.
“It’s lunch.” Tallow said with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Where did your mother get Ostrich eggs?” He uncovered the loaves from the burlap. “Don’t tell her I said that.” He said with a blush and Tallow grinned.
“Son. Will you take the bucket and get some water from the well?”
The knock of the bread on the table answered Tallow’s question. The water wasn’t just for drinking.
Tallow returned with the water and saw his father admiring his own workmanship in the shield before him.
“Come here, my boy.”
Tallow eagerly ran to his father’s side.
“Stand here.”
The boy stood up strait in an attention stance and looked up as a shadow passed over him.
The trunk armor his father dropped onto his shoulders made him stumble back.
“Stick out your arm.” His father chuckled.
The forearm shield swallowed his arm as its weight made his body sag.
“Someday, my boy. Some day.” His father said with a dreamy look in his eyes.
“Run along now, I’ve got work to do for Caesar’s men.” He said with a devilish grin. He turned and winked at Tallow as he lifted the iron shell from the boy’s body. Tallow smiled and ran outside.
A distant yelping caught his attention as he trotted down the street. His stride quickened when he heard boys’ laughter passing in the same direction.
Tallow grabbed two sticks from a pup tent on the way. He slapped a rock filled hand and cracked a laughing head in one motion.
“Get him!” A defiant high pitched voice commanded.
Tallow bolted through the marketplace as he heard the rocks crash behind him. He made his way through to a rocky plateau on the edge of town. He found a huge stone nestled in a rock wall pocket to make his stand.
The boys approached him with cocky, smiling faces, like a pack of wolves to a dying lamb. They flipped their rocks playfully between their hands with arrogant confidence.
“Now we have a bigger target to play with.” The same whiney voice from the marketplace cracked. He stepped out from the pack. His face was pudgy, and it overshadowed a chubby frame that held a rock for the battle ahead.
Tallow defied his threat with a thrust of his arms, crossing his sticks in an “X” pattern.
The boy scowled and hurled the stone with all his might. Tallow answered by batting the rock into another clutched hand. One by one, the gang of boys curled back and whimpered away after being struck by their own rocks. Parents, who had heard the flurry, grabbed their boys and glared at Tallow as they hurried off.
He stood alone on the rock and his body began to relax at the sight of the boys leaving. His hand reached to rub an itch on his cheek and returned with fingers tipped in blood.
“Come here boy.” The gruff voice of a Roman soldier called.
Tallow crept down from the rock, trying not to look the man in the face. It was hard to get around the soldier’s mountainous shadow, but he swallowed hard and stood at his feet.
With a soft gesture the man cupped the child’s chin in his hand and said, “You’ve done nothing wrong boy. You handled yourself well.”
A shy smile crept back on to Tallow’s face as the soldier smiled back.
“What’s your name, son? Where do you live?” He scooped Tallow up and flipped him onto his shoulders before he could answer.
“My name is Tallow,” he said giggling. “I’m the Blacksmith’s son.”
The soldier tickled and wrestled with the boy all the way to his house. He made him laugh and his fear soon turned into friendship. The soldier’s name was Darius and he took great interest in Tallow from that day on.
When the two reached the Blacksmith’s shop, the soldier flipped Tallow back to the ground. “Run along now. Your father and I have some things to discuss.”
Those words worried Tallow and his face showed it.
“Remember what I said, boy.” Darius bent to face Tallow. “It wasn’t your fault.”
With that the boy turned and walked out the door. He wasn’t really convinced of his own innocence, but he took Darius word for it.
The soldier turned to Barsiebus, who was glaring at him.
“What’s this about?” Tallow’s father blurted out.
Darius was irritated, but calm. “Friend, I know he’s your boy, but don’t get defensive yet. My name is Darius and I’d like to know more about the boy.”
“Well, uh....” Darius hesitated.
“Barsiebus.” Tallow’s father said as he reluctantly stuck his hand out.
“Barsiebus. Your boy, Tallow, walloped about five or six of the village brats in defense of a mongrel dog today. They had rocks and all he had was two sticks, but he sent them home to their mothers.” Darius told Barsiebus all that happened that afternoon.
“I’m almost sure that I’ve seen his style of swordplay in some of the Asian provinces.”
“He was born in the shade of a Chinese Tallow tree.” Tallow’s mother interrupted with a pitcher of water in her hands.
“That’s where I learned my trade as a Blacksmith, from a man named Hwang To. He was bigger than me, but gentle as a lamb and patient. Oh, I’m sorry; this is my wife, Rachael.” Barsiebus jumped up and waved his hand in her direction.
Darius rose to his feet and nodded his head in her direction with a smile on his face. “Ma’am, it’s good that I met you both. I have one more question. How old is the boy?”
“He’s barely nine.” Rachael panicked. She knew Rome would take her son to be a soldier.
“Barely nine?” Barsiebus laughed. “His birthday was seven months ago.”
“He’s incredibly sound for a boy his age.” Darius stated.
“That’s his mother’s fault.” Barsiebus said as he winked at his wife.
“Barsiebus, don’t be too hard on the boy. He was doing the right thing. Those boys deserved what they got.” With an approving nod from Barsiebus, Darius turned and walked out.
Tallow didn’t have any close friends in this village and after what had happened today, he was sure that he didn’t have a chance at getting any.
A wet muzzle on his hand said he had at least one. It was the dog from the marketplace. A set of brown eyes blinked at him from a matted coat of caramel colored hair. The dog was holding one leg up gingerly and balancing on the other three.
Tallow looked at the injured leg.
“Easy boy. I won’t hurt you,” he said when the dog pulled his paw away.
He was relieved to see that the wound didn’t go all the way through. He got some fresh water and clean rags from his father’s shop and dressed the leg as best as he could.
“Is this the one you were the ‘hero’ for today?” his father said from behind him.
“Uh...Yes, Sir. There was a hole in his leg, so I cleaned it up.” Tallow said, pointing to the ragged bandage.
“Give him these.” His father handed him a pan of spongy rolls from the morning. “If you tell your mother, I’ll deny it.” His father smiled at him.
Tallow set the pan in front of the dog. It hoisted itself onto three legs and lapped at the mixture.
“Tallow. The dog will be fine. We have some things to discuss.”
Tallow cringed with those words as his shoulders dropped down with embarrassment.
“Don’t get so glum. The soldier...Darius, is it?” The boy nodded. “said that you handled yourself quite well today. He was very impressed with your ‘swordplay’, as he called it. He told me everything and I believe as he does. Those boys deserve what you gave them and more. I just wish I could’ve been there to see it.”
Tallow’s face exposed a sheepish grin.
“He said that he would be keeping an eye on you, not just for your protection. He said that you will be warrior worthy in a few years.
Tallow spoke his thoughts. “Me. A warrior? I was just trying not to get hit. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I just got lucky. Those boys weren’t really trying and...” His thoughts were racing as his father brought them to a halt.
“Maybe news of this will get to Caesar. That couldn’t hurt your future.
From the expression on his face, Tallow could tell his father was stuck in his dream again. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be stuck in the same dream as his father or not.
Dreams may come and go, but Tallow’s life would soon be changed drastically. Caesar’s ears were filled with ‘Tallow’ more than once.
News of the fight traveled throughout the whole Roman garrison. More soldiers were stopping by his father’s shop to inspect his goods. His friend Darius had seen enough commotion about the boy and decided to have a talk with his captain.
“Captain, I request an audience with you.”
“Why so formal, Darius? You know my door is always open to you.” Malcus said with a little irritation.
“It is because the request I have is a formal one.”
“I’m listening.”
“Can you ask the men not to ‘patrol’ the market so much?”
“What do we need of patrols? Is there a faction that they need to put down?”
“No. They just want to gawk at the boy, ‘Tallow’.”
“Well, your tale of the boy’s fight made everyone a little inquisitive. I was planning to go by and see the blacksmith myself later today and...”
“Please, Captain, don’t do that. Let the boy breathe a little bit. The stories I’ve heard in the market are much larger than the one I told you, ranging from the sticks he used being elephant’s tusks, to the rocks being great boulders. I’m not saying to forget about the boy, but so many stories of such magnitude are hard for anyone to live up to.”