The streets were chaotic, a combination of usual pre-Sabbath rush and the added excitement of Passover, an execution, and a small but startling natural disaster. And what made it worse was that he had no idea where to go to find a midwife. He attempted to ask a citizen, but they all went out of their way to avoid him; it was the first time he really noticed or cared, and Titus knew prodigious frustration. He was about to just grab someone and demand an answer when a familiar movement caught his eye, the flash of a cloak, the bounce of a step.
Titus froze. He stared. He beheld with complete disbelief the figure in the distance, knowing he must be going mad. Jason was dead. He had seen his death with his own eyes, he had watched them entomb him, he knew for a fact it could not be his friend that was standing on the end of the street and watching him.
But it was. Every sense and every fiber told him it was. The man looked like Jason, was dressed in the garments he had been buried in. He smiled like Jason had smiled and lifted a hand in the very way that Jason had beckoned.
Titus knew he was going mad, yes. But still, he followed. After all, if his mind was conjuring up images of the dead, perhaps it would have said image lead him somewhere useful.
Jason led him, but Titus found it impossible to draw near. If he ran, so did Jason. When he stopped, the figment did as well and would turn and wait and gesture again for him to follow. Titus did so, wondering where they were going, and wondering too why it was that the others in the street got out of the way of his vision. He was led down a street he had never had cause to visit before, and then the man before him was gone. Titus looked around in confusion, ran the length of the street to look for him on the other side, and found nothing. Giving an exasperated growl, he turned again.
“You are a long way from the garrison, soldier.”
Titus turned to find a woman standing in a doorway, wiping her hands on a faded piece of cloth. She looked amused, pleasant. She was probably in her mid thirties, attractive, but had that worn and tired look in her eye that seemed habitual to so many in the city.
Titus sighed. “I am looking for a midwife.”
The woman smiled. “You have found one. Though who would have given you my name, I cannot imagine.”
Titus shook his head. “No one told me. Please, can you come? My friend’s widow is in labor, and she is in great pain. I fear something is wrong, and her family cannot be found.”
The woman nodded, disappearing inside for a moment and reemerging a moment later with a satchel under her arm. She closed the door behind her. “Lead me to her.” They fell into step together, Titus setting a brisk pace. The woman matched it. “I am Tabitha,” she volunteered when they had journeyed a while in silence. “This woman–is she Hebrew or Roman?”
Titus sent her a suspicious glance. “Will that affect your decision to come?”
Tabitha smiled again, indulgently this time. “Mine, it will not. For many others of my profession, it would indeed. That is why I ask. I was wondering if I was your last resort. It is the only time I am ever called now.”
Titus knew he was in no position to question her credentials. He merely nodded. “She is Hebrew. Her husband was a centurion, his father the prefect.”
Tabitha did not slow, but she turned her face up to his with heightened interest. “I heard of their deaths. It saddened me. The father was a follower of Jesus.”
He was beyond shock at that point, so he could not have such a reaction to her knowledge of Cleopas’s beliefs. “His son had become one, too.”
Tabitha nodded slowly. “And you, soldier?”
Titus looked over at her, his mind suddenly at rest. He could tell by the look in her eyes, that faded echo of what he had seen in Jesus’s not so long ago, that she was a follower of the rabbi’s teachings. Someone who would know what he had said and would be able to share it. If his vision of Jason had been his own madness, then his madness had led him right where he needed to be. He still could not smile. “Today I saw things that have changed me. Things I do not understand. But I know that Jesus of Nazareth was more than a man. I know that his blood made me see my own sins and wish them away. And I know that I need to learn much in order to be the man this Christ would have me be.”
Tabitha put an encouraging hand on his arm. “There is hope. Jesus the Messiah judges with mercy. He spared my life when others would have stoned me, convincing the crowd to walk away. He knows we all sin and commanded the one without such a blemish to cast the first stone–there is no one who is righteous though, my friend. Your failings cannot be so great that you cannot overcome them with faith in our Lord; he forgave me mine, he will forgive you yours. You have but to desire it.”
Titus would have responded, but they at that moment came within sight of the Visibullis house.
“Titus!” It was the voice of one of his men, running for him from the direction of the garrison. “Where have you been? Pilate wishes to see you!”