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From: "Eros' Dreams" <eros_dreams@hotmail.com>
Subject: {Adhara} North From Jerusalem {M/F, rom, religious themes} <*>
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This story contains religious themes mixed with erotica that some
might find uncomfortable, especially if you are Christian. Just a 
warning.

-- Adhara



NORTH FROM JERUSALEM
by Adhara Law
Copyright 1998 by Adhara Law (eros_dreams@hotmail.com). All rights
reserved. May not be reproduced or distributed, with the exception
of USENET posting and archiving, with express written permission by
the author (but if you ask nicely, I'll say yes ;-) ).


He was awakened by the burning rays of the midday sun that bored 
relentlessly through his closed lids. He opened them, slowly. When he'd 
last looked toward the sky, the deeply burnished sun had barely crept 
over the horizon. Now it stood sentry above him; yellowish-white, 
glaring.

He had long since passed the point of true pain; now there was only a 
dull ache that traveled along his shoulders, back and arms, ending at 
the wrists he could not move. He licked his lips and tasted blood, but 
he was not sure where it came from.

"Drink."

He heard the distant voice and strained to see where it came from. As he 
turned his face downward, a dripping rag appeared by his mouth. He 
grasped it between his lips and sucked eagerly at the moisture, nearly 
gagging at its bitterness but needing it all the same. It was taken away 
as quickly as it appeared.

His head hung from its own weight, his muscles drained of the strength 
to support it. The desert sand danced and shimmered as he scanned the 
ground. A few feet below him he saw a young man carrying the reed that 
held the rag up to him. His mouth worked to form words of thanks, but no 
sound came out of the dry, parched throat.

"It will be over soon," the young man said. "Be strong."

And with that, he was gone. His head lolled onto his shoulder as he 
surveyed the shadowless hill and saw others like him, hung bleeding and 
broken to die a slow and excruciating death, while carrion picked at 
their yet-living eyes. He wept, but only for them.

*   *   *

He knew that a molten desert by day could be a frozen wasteland by 
night, but this felt wrong. Cool, still air enveloped his body. He 
opened his eyes.

Walls of rock surrounded him as he lay on the dirt floor and looked up 
to see two very familiar faces. One of them was smiling.

"You are alive," the face said. He could not tell if the man was trying 
to convince him or himself. He tried to sit up but the man above him 
gently held him down. "You need rest."

His mouth creaked open as he forced his voice from his throat. "Joseph."

He heard faint sounds of someone stirring from the other side of the 
dark cave, and then she was beside him.

"I thought I had lost you forever," she said with reddened eyes, her 
voice strong but trembling nonetheless.

The blend of terror and relief in her face made his eyes water. He tried 
reaching for her hand but could barely lift his own.

Joseph put on a stern face. "You must rest, and then eat. You are still 
recovering from both your punishment and the herb."

The herb. The vinegar...

Joseph understood the expression in his eyes. "It was to make them think 
you had died. Any more and you would have."

At that, the woman could hold back no longer. Her tears fell out of her 
like a torrential storm as her hands, covering her face, tried in vain 
to stop them. "It's all right now, Mary," Joseph hushed, putting an arm 
around her. "He's safe now."

The inky veil of unconsciousness fell over him as he reached for her in 
comfort.

*   *   *

He awoke this time amidst the grass of a soft bed beneath him. Joseph 
was there, across the room, speaking quietly to an old man. When he saw 
that he'd awoke, he smiled and said something briefly to the old man 
which he couldn't hear, and then sat by his side.

"We had to move you. It wasn't safe there," Joseph said. He reached for 
a bowl on the table beside the bed. "Here. You must eat."

With more strength than he thought he had, he lifted his mouth to the 
spoon that Joseph offered him. He had never tasted soup as delicious as 
this. He thought that death had a way of wiping the tarnish off the 
dullest of things. 

"In two days," Joseph began as he fed him another spoonful, "we will 
have to leave this place."

He swallowed the healing broth eagerly. "Where is Mary?"

"She is seeing to your affairs."

He nodded and opened his mouth for a last bite before his head sank to 
the pillow. Every few hours for the next two days, he received the same 
treatment, either from Joseph or Mary. He felt his strength return to 
him, seeping slowly back into his aching skin and muscles. The monstrous 
pain from his broken legs was now only a constant throb. Though his 
bones and the wounds on his wrists, feet, and head would never 
completely heal, he was alive, and he was beginning to feel it.

On the morning of the second day in the tiny house, Joseph came to him. 
"It is time," he said.

The old man and Joseph carefully lifted him out of the grass bed and 
carried him outside, where the sun hid behind the dark crags of the 
mountains. He winced as they laid him as carefully as possible in the 
clean, fresh grass of a large wagon, covered to protect him from the 
desert sun. He felt the wagon jostle as someone else climbed in with 
him. He looked up into Mary's face.

Her eyes reddened as she smiled at him, taking his hand in hers. 
Relieved that he at last had the strength, he brought her small hand to 
his face and laid it against his cheek.

Joseph climbed in behind Mary, placing small bags and boxes to either 
side of him in the wagon. "We will go north towards Sychar, and then 
east to Joppa," he said as he made room in the small wagon. "We should 
not have any problems. I know the soldiers in Joppa well."

A few moments later, he felt the wagon move roughly forward as they set 
out on their way. Mary sat beside him, looking out at the home she was 
leaving, her hand on his. He strained to see her face from where he lay, 
knowing that her eyes were struggling to remember every detail of the 
place she knew she would never see again.

As the wagon moved slowly but steadily over the rough road towards 
Sychar, Joseph and Mary tended to him, never leaving him along for a 
moment. There were bags of herbs by his head that Joseph moistened and 
slathered onto the wounds on his wrists and feet, wrapping them in rags 
and checking them every few hours. On the second day of their journey, 
the wagon was pulled to the side of the road so that the rags holding 
the broken bones in his legs together could be changed with as little 
pain as possible. Then they were on their way again, turning east to 
Joppa and traveling as quickly as the oxen and wagon would allow.

It was nearly nightfall when he awoke to the sounds of creaking wagon 
wheels, bazaar merchants, and seagulls. Joseph peeled back the flaps of 
the wagon covering and looked briefly out into the night. "We are in 
Joppa." He turned and leaned over him. "It is good that we arrived so 
late in the day; we can find a room quietly and no one will bother us."

He propped himself up on his elbows, wanting to assist instead of lying 
helplessly and watching his companions do all of the work. Joseph 
disappeared while Mary sat quietly with him, sharing some dates. When 
Joseph stuck his head through the flaps of the wagon, he motioned for 
Mary to help him take the bags and boxes from the wagon. When that was 
done, they lifted him, as they had five days before, and brought him 
through a doorway into a room at a small inn. He smiled at them as they 
laid him comfortably on the small bed. 

When they had finished preparing for their stay, Joseph once again 
checked his wounds. "Are you in pain?"

"My legs...they ache terribly."

Joseph nodded and reached for a small pouch, extracting a small handful 
of brown leaves. "Chew these. They will help make the pain go away, and 
then you can sleep."

He took the leaves in his hand. "Joseph of Arimathea," he said, the 
quiet power of his voice restored after the long rest in the wagon. "You 
are perhaps the smartest man I know."

Blood crept swiftly into Joseph's face as he smiled and turned away.

He chewed the leaves quietly under the ever-watchful eyes of Mary and 
Joseph. The pain slowly faded from his legs as he felt the soft blanket 
of sleep fall quietly over him. The dim light of the room faded as he 
called softly for Mary.

*    *    *

Warmth and softness. Darkness. He awoke to these things, the dull ache 
of his limbs and the effects of the narcotic leaves he'd chewed creating 
a confusion he tried desperately to shake. He felt the warm velvet 
softness of bare skin pressing against his own.

"Mary..."

A finger gently lay against his lips. "Everyone is asleep," she said, 
her voice so quiet in the darkness that he had to strain to hear her. 

He turned to the sound of her voice and forced his eyes to adjust to the 
darkness that pressed in against him. Slowly he made out the shadow of 
her face, framed by her long, dark hair, as she lay against his 
shoulder. He painfully raised his hand to touch her cheek, caressing the 
soft skin there. 

She raised her head to look at him through the blackness. "I was 
afraid..." she began, but choked off the words as she ran a hand through 
his thick hair. 

He gently wrapped his fingers around her delicate wrist. "There is no 
need to be afraid now," he answered.

"But we have so far to go..." She touched her forehead to his rough, 
unshaven cheek. "So much can happen. We're not safe yet."

Lifting her face to look into her eyes, he smiled. "Mary, do you think 
that I could die, leave this world, without you?"

He felt her breath catch in her throat. Taking his face between the 
palms of her hands, she kissed him, gently for fear of bringing more 
pain than he already had. But he reveled in her kiss, drawing her closer 
hungrily.

He broke away reluctantly. "You are my wife," he said into the darkness.

"Then love me as you would your wife," she answered, her voice raw and 
deep.

He ran his hand, scarred and sore, over the back of her neck and through 
her hair, letting the pain as he pressed against her skin run through 
him like fire, tempered by the feel of her. He felt her stir next to 
him, moving to shift the loose robe he wore. The fabric slid over him as 
she exposed his chest and stomach, laying small kisses on his warm, damp 
skin. 

His eyes watered as he watched her, felt the terror in her when she 
thought she had lost him forever. She loosened her own dress and gently 
straddled him as she kissed the skin along his neck, his cheeks, and his 
chin. He breathed her name to her, gently took her arms in his hands. He 
ran his injured palms over her bare breasts as she lifted her brown 
dress over her head and sighed with pleasure.

The deep green of her eyes as they watched him for signs of pain or 
discomfort bore into him while she straddled him, moving him into her 
carefully and beginning the slow rhythm of their consummation. Small 
gasps escaped her. She leaned over him, spreading her long hair over his 
chest as he gripped her arms and leaned his head back. They were locked 
as one. A tear snaked down his temple as he embraced her, feeling the 
peace and union he tried so hard to bring to others with his teachings. 
She sensed him completely, knowing how to move so as to bring him 
pleasure without pain. As their breathing synchronized into one, he laid 
a hand to her cheek. "I love you, wife," he said, gasping as he released 
himself into her.

Her tiny, almost soundless cries followed his as she pressed herself 
into him. She lay herself next to his side and cradled his face in her 
hand. "You must rest now, husband." 

He felt the smile of her lips as they pressed into his, and he drifted 
into dreamless sleep with her by his side.

*    *    *

Joseph was gently shaking him. "I want you to rest," he was saying, "but 
we must get on board our ship first."

Mary was already lifting bags and boxes as he slowly surveyed the room, 
judging by the light streaming through the window that the sun had just 
risen. A young but tall boy was standing by the bed, looking as if he 
was awaiting orders. Joseph signaled to him and in an instant, they were 
lifting him carefully off of the bed.

Thankfully the inn was a short distance from the pier. Seagulls screamed 
and circled the boats that dotted the shoreline of Joppa. Few residents 
of the small sea town were out at this early hour; only sailors, too 
busy with their ships to notice a man, a woman, and a small boy carrying 
an invalid man with broken legs and bandages on his feet and hands, were 
out and about now. They walked the length of the pier and boarded a 
moderately sized ship, going below. He was placed delicately on a small 
cot below a window.

He heard the sailors call to one another as the ship began moving, 
rocking its way out of port and away from Joppa. He propped himself on 
his elbows to stare out the window to the rolling sea. "Joseph," he said 
quietly. "Where are we going?"

Joseph looked down at him, an almost fatherly smile on his face. "To 
France."

He felt the blankets of comfort descend over him as Mary took his hand 
gently in his.


------------------------------------------------------
Adhara Law: eros_dreams@hotmail.com




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