When Jesus Wept

Chapter 19



Patrick was given his freedom, but there was much more to my promise. He had asked for a wife. He had asked for freedom and the hand of Adrianna, the cook’s helper.

Samson was Adrianna’s foster father. The winemaker came to me in the company of his round and robust wife, whom he called Delilah because she had so captured his heart. Samson was a free man, yet his wife was a second-generation slave in the House of Lazarus. It was known that the House of Lazarus had the finest winemaker and the finest cook in the land. The couple had adopted Adrianna when she had arrived at my estate as a small orphan of about five years of age. Adrianna had possessed no skills. She was a shivering, lonely little girl when she came to us. Samson begged me for the favor of bringing her home to his childless wife. Little Adrianna became a part of the family, learning the culinary skills of Delilah, and was grafted into our faith and our ways.

Delilah and Samson stood before me on behalf of their daughter. “Sir, Patrick is a good man, as we all know. And now he has asked for the freedom of himself—”

“Which I have granted,” I said proudly.

Samson continued, “And for the freedom and the hand of my daughter.”

I nodded. “A fair bargain, considering the saving of Faithful Vineyard.”

Samson’s eyebrows went up slightly as he considered what he wanted to tell me. “Though he is not a Jew, as we are, he believes in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”

I agreed with the good character of Patrick. “And so your daughter, who is also not descended from Abraham, is a good match for him.”

Delilah shifted uneasily and did not speak, though her lip trembled. “Sir, neither am I a Jew, but am descended from slaves of Gaul. Yet I would not return to my forefathers’ homeland if I were set free.”

I did not understand the emotion in Delilah’s face. The fear in her eyes. “What is it, good woman?”

Samson put his hand on Delilah’s arm. “Sir, Patrick is a Briton. Yes, he fears our God, and yet now that he has his freedom, he says he may take my daughter far, far away from this place and her mother. We have no child but Adrianna.”

“Perhaps, sir,” Delilah blurted, “he will take my girl back to his own kin in Britannia.”

Samson continued, “Here she is a slave in the household of a kind master, at least. But when she belongs to a husband, I will have no way to protect her if … ”

I suddenly understood. I had pledged the hand of Adrianna to Patrick without knowing all that was in Patrick’s mind. It had not occurred to me that I might lose my barrelmaker and, much worse, they might lose their daughter. “Has Patrick said he wished to return to his own country?”

“Not in so many words, sir. I was supportive of the match, but now I’m frightened. He speaks of his family in the great city of Verulamium where Isis is worshiped. Britannia is a godless place, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so. The Romans enforce their own ways upon the people. And if Patrick takes Adrianna away, we will see her no more.”

“Grandchildren,” Delilah whispered. “All I ever prayed for.”

“I gave the lad my word.” I stared at the seal upon my signet ring. “Patrick is a free man. And I have prepared the document to free your daughter.” Opening a leather folder, I displayed two documents. The first declared Adriana’s freedom. The second was the contract of marriage pledging Adrianna to Patrick. “Here. A ketubah.”

Delilah started to weep softly. “Oh, my baby girl. In a land of human sacrifice and demon practices!”

Samson patted her gently. “There, there, my dove. My angel. The Lord must surely go with her. Surely there are Jews in Britannia! Surely a synagogue among the pagan temples.”

The woman wept, drawing Martha to the door to gaze at our little gathering in sorrow.

Delilah cried, “But, sir, what shall I do? Oh, what shall I do without my baby girl near me?”

I could say no more. I had given my vow to Patrick in exchange for his efforts to save Faithful Vineyard. “I am at a loss how I can help. I gave my promise. If Patrick wishes to return to the far north … he will do what he will do. And there is nothing I can do to change what is.”

From the shadows, Martha cleared her throat. “Brother!” she declared. “There must be a way.” She stepped into the pool of light and set her hands on her broad hips in her determined way.

Delilah’s eyes shone with tears. Samson stared at her in surprise.

“Martha,” I greeted her.

She motioned for Samson and Delilah to leave us. “Shalom. There is work to do, Delilah. Supper to cook. Company coming. I will speak with my brother.”

The couple shuffled out of my chamber. Martha closed the door and whirled to face me. “Brother! What have you done?” I defended, “He asked me, and I—”

“He asked you!”

“To save the vines.”

“To save the vines, you sacrifice the wine? You are purest fool. Oh, you heartless creature! What have you done to sweet Delilah? And have you asked Adrianna if she wishes to be the wife of a pagan, one-legged barrelmaker from Britannia?”

She had me there. I had not thought to ask anyone. The girl was property, and I had the right to do as I wished. Freedom seemed a great gift. “My intentions were good. For the best, sister.”

“Ha!” She snorted, pivoted on her heel, and made for the door. “Come up with something fast, or you’ll have mutiny in the ranks.”



I had celebrated the end of a plague of locusts, yet now my house was a house of mourning.

At supper that night, Joseph of Arimathea the elder and Gamaliel, a great Torah scholar descended from a family of honorable Levites, sat at my table and feasted on lamb with mushrooms and wine sauce as we sipped the finest vintage yet created on my estate. Lamb, courtesy of Delilah and Adrianna. Wine, created by Samson, cured in barrels made by Patrick.

We had saved the vines, but now everything good and familiar seemed about to dissolve around me. I sucked the wine sauce from my lamb chop with a heavy heart.

Gamaliel commented, “Herod Antipas believes that Jesus of Nazareth is John the Baptizer raised from the dead.”

Joseph concurred. “The locusts fully destroyed the tet-rarch’s vines. He is casting around for who he can blame. Jesus is a sorcerer, some say. Did he cast a spell on the vines? Antipas, like his father, is driven by fear: fear of his Roman masters, of Pilate, of Caesar. Fear of what the people will do. Rebellion? Fear of his wife, Herodias. And now, after severing the head of a prophet at the demand of this woman, he fears that John the Baptizer is again alive and may do to him what Antipas himself has done to others.”

Delilah, eyes red with weeping, entered and cleaned away the main course. My guests pretended they did not notice her. As was proper, they complimented her as if she were not in the room. I tried very hard not to glance at her.

“Most excellent meal,” Gamaliel said to me. “I heard the Roman tribune mention the quality of your wines and the reputation of your cooks. A mother and daughter, is it?”

Delilah sniffed and wiped a tear with the back of her hand.

Joseph agreed within Delilah’s hearing. “Any household in all the empire would envy such a cook as this. You must never let the Gentiles suspect the skill of such a cook. They will steal her away to some far corner of the world.”

I replied. “Yes. A gift from God, she is. She has always been with our family.”

I heard a choked sob as Delilah padded quickly down the hallway.

Joseph leaned in. “Is she all right?”

I tasted the sweet honeyed pastry of our dessert. “Her daughter will be wed soon.”

Gamaliel licked his fingers. “Emotions of mothers run high in such times.”

Joseph returned to the subject. “This Jesus is truly a wonderworker. My son is fascinated by him.”

Gamaliel nodded. “The vineyards and orchards of Antipas. Stripped. I do not believe Jesus called down this plague upon him, but he will certainly be blamed for every calamity from now on. Good men are always suspected by evil men.”

“I myself saw Jesus perform several miracles.” I sipped my wine. “Here’s one you’ll appreciate. It seemed unmistakable. At a wedding, it was. He turned water into wine.”

Gamaliel laughed. “A trick. And if not a trick, then sorcery.”

I studied the deep red contents of my cup. “But no. I tasted it. Unlike any wine ever made. More delicious than—”

Gamaliel laughed again. “So Jesus is your competition, eh?”

“Jesus,” Joseph mused aloud. “A cousin of John the Baptizer. I wonder if he’ll raise up a rebellion to avenge the death of such a righteous man.”

Gamaliel nodded. “Caiaphas has put forth to the council that Jesus’ works will lead to the deaths of many. That is, if there is another rebellion. Another preacher claiming to be the Messiah! I cannot think of a worse time than now for this Jesus to be preaching the coming of Messiah to redeem the people.”

Joseph raised his cup. “There will never be wine as good as yours, even if the Kingdom of God comes to earth.”

My guests spoke long into the night about the events unfolding in Galilee with the followers of Jesus. They recounted the rumors of miracles that daily streamed in to the priests and Temple authorities. It was indeed a dangerous time for Jesus.

I was relieved when the evening came to an end, and Gamaliel and Joseph retired to their bedchambers.

Weary, I made my way toward my study. The certificate of Adrianna’s freedom and the marriage contract were on my writing table. I sat down and studied them with regret. Surely my cook and my winemaker would never smile again. I resolved that in the morning I would talk with Adrianna to hear her thoughts on the matter.