Enter the biblically historic world of Simon of Cyrene, where a world of grief, revenge, and Dennis Patrick Slattery and tender devotion awaits. There, families are torn apart, marauding soldiers enact their violent ways, and random events suddenly disrupt life. Along this journey there will be encounters with Pontius Pilate, Veronica, Mary, and the sons of Simon, Rufus and Alexander, as they seek to grasp the mystery of a compassionate Nazarene, serenely putting into practice the kingdom of God. Forced to carry the cross of Jesus, Simon of Cyrene, a little known biblical figure, reluctantly yields to his task. At the same time, Simon struggles with personal loss and a fiery desire for revenge. In Simon's story, the vulnerability of our own journeys is laid bare as we cross paths with a simple wooden cross and a redemptive twist of fate. In Simon's Crossing, this ordinary man, from Cyrene, steps boldly out of the pages of the Bible. He senses that his own life depends on the Nazarene staggering just ahead of him. Persuaded by sacrificial love, we too discover what it is like to cross over into the imaginal power of a story well-told, where salvation lies close at hand. Simon's story compels us to carry on as well.

Simon's Crossing

A novelBy Charles William Asher Dennis Patrick Slattery

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2010 Charles William Asher and Dennis Patrick Slattery
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-0249-7

Chapter One

"I don't like it, Father," Alexander said, watching the four of them ride away from where we stood, now closer to each other, watching them disappear in the distance. I reached up slightly to put my arm on his broad shoulders to reassure him. I could count on Alexander. He understood. He knew what was going on. It was not surprising that Pricilla said he was so much like me, while Rufus was close to his mother; he had even been reluctant to have ever gone to Jerusalem and left her here in Cyrene.

"Neither do I, son," I replied, hoping what he and I had seen, and Rufus had hardly noticed, would slip away as some unfounded fear. Pricilla, I knew, would say nothing, and yet she knew-knew all too well-that the Romans could hardly be trusted.

In our house, we soon forgot the soldiers, as the day passed pleasantly, absorbing the bitterness of the morning encounter at our well. Surprised and pleased that our sons would come so far to travel with us for Passover, we talked with them at every chance. How was Jerusalem? What about Pilate? How big is Justin? And our other grandchildren? How is business, Rufus? What do you like making the most-pottery or furniture? Alexander, are you really trading that much by sea with Cyrene? Why do you think the Romans are watching you? Selling much in the market? At this rate of questioning, the few weeks they intended to spend with us would pass quickly, and we'd soon join the caravan for Jerusalem.

On this first night of their arrival, Pricilla prepared a special meal, interrupted by tousling the heads of both her sons and affectionately stroking my, according to her, ragged beard. Her touch made the difference to us. Kidding her, we dodged her random grasping for us. Her warmth bound us together once again. The soldiers' intimidating presence became lost in laughter, the swirl of wine, freshly baked bread spread with fresh goat cheese ...

I looked at her for a moment, forgetting she was my wife, mother of our children. I saw the woman I had long desired. That hadn't changed. Her dark, deeply set eyes still drew me into her mysteries. I couldn't help but notice again the slightly uplifted tilt of her firm, rounded breasts, the tips of which had so often hardened at my slightest touch. She saw my look. I knew she understood, and it was as though she'd caught me with her knowing look. Blushing, she looked away, likely knowing that our sons did not notice the fiery glances between us, which would find us deeply into each other before long.

Later that night, our sons asleep and the two of us in our own room, she asked, "Simon, why did you look at me that way?"

"What way?" I innocently asked as I drew her toward me.

"Simon, the boys. We can't be loud."

"We won't be," I said, willing to make even the most irrational case for us not being heard by our sons. "Quiet, I'll be quiet." I knew she often rode our passion on increasingly loud moans.

"Simon," she said again. "Why did you look at me that way today?"

"Because I still want you like I always have," I replied.

Really, I had no answer. Her question curled into my rough hands as I deliberately, slowly rubbed the fragrant oil over Pricilla's shapely body, pausing here and there as a thickness in my throat absorbed any possible words. Her head tilted back, exposing her neck to my gentle kisses, which seemed to stretch her body taut in its need to find release.

"Not so loud, Simon," she reminded me as I listened to the ebb and flow of her increasingly loud moaning, for she had slowly and deliberately parted for my eager entry.

Digging her fingers into my shoulders, she cried out my name, as though I were far away, and then we both fell into a moment that I thought could last forever. I didn't know how much time had passed, whether it had been a few seconds or years, nor did I care.

And then her soft voice: "Oh, our sons, Simon. Do you think they heard?" she asked.

"No. We were very quiet," I lied.

"Sure, Simon," she said. "Do you think I'm deaf?"

And we laughed together into the final moments of release into each other. Exhausted, our bodies thrown casually around and over each other, silence enfolded us. Floating in some timeless place, only gradually did we withdraw from the moment that summarized the passionate intimacies of our life together, moments that had previously thrust Alexander and Rufus toward life.

Then sleep pulled us down and away.

Chapter Two

They came just before dawn. There was no neighing of horses to warn me. I did not hear them enter our room and stand alongside us. I had no time to react. I flung my arm and body toward Pricilla to protect her and myself. Then came the blow to my head, and I was thrown back into the darkness of the night on the long scream of Pricilla crying out, "Simon, help! Simon, help me! Somebody help me!"

I do not know about the time that passed. I did not feel it go by, and I did not see the horrors of those moments. The time I knew began again with the splitting pain in the back of my head, pushing through my skull. I could hardly open my eyes. Tried and failed. Tried again. I tried to wake up. I saw the ray of sun coming through the window. I felt someone's arms around me. "Pricilla?" I asked. "Pricilla, is it you?" I pleaded. My head was being cradled. It wasn't Pricilla's arms. No, not at all. Not her arms. It was the arms of Rufus, holding me tightly to his heaving body as he sobbed uncontrollably.

"Rufus," I forced myself to say through my throbbing head. "Rufus. What happened? What's wrong?"

Suddenly, he shouted, "It's all wrong! It's all wrong!" Then I heard him blurt out the words that would last my lifetime. "Mother is dead. They took Alexander. I couldn't help them. I couldn't. I'm so sorry. I thought you were dead too. I couldn't do anything. They tied me up. Made me watch."

"Watch what?" I shouted at him in anger, sending a piercing pain through my head. I was unable to absorb what he had said to me. "Watch what, Rufus?"

"You know ... what they did to her."

"No, Rufus, I don't know. I want to know. You tell me."

"They took her. First Abenadar, then the others. They forced the one called Albus on her. A soldier had to be able to do it, and Abenadar said Albus had his chance to show he was a man. He told Albus he couldn't do it. Then it happened."

"What?"

"Mother kept fighting back, fought each of them. She struggled the hardest against Albus. He kept doing it to her. Mother spit in his face. He licked her spit with his tongue. He then stuck his tongue in her mouth. She bit his tongue, tore a piece off, and spit it out. She fought back, screaming. The blood poured out of Albus's mouth. They laughed at Albus ... laughed at him."

"Go on, son. Tell me. I need to know," I said, my voice lowering as something collapsed inside.

"And then he suddenly cut her throat," Rufus said. "He killed her. He killed her! They made me watch him kill her." Rufus suddenly screamed and then broke into violent sobbing.

I reached over and grabbed his arm as Rufus went on. "I couldn't do anything. I was tied up, Father. I'm so sorry. There was no one to help. They took Alexander right away. Tied him up. Took him outside. It was just me. I couldn't do anything." Rufus continued to sob, burying his head in his hands.

I...