The Betrayed Series: Ultimate Omnibus Collection With EXCLUSIVE Post-Shiva Short Story by Carolyn McCray Page A

village and the shouts of men as they patched a roof. Jesus, however, seemed wholly unaware of the ordinary dealings of men. Instead his focus remained fixed upon the ephemeral.
    But as always, Judas’ interest waned as quickly as a starling’s, and his gaze wandered out over the open waters of their small sea. Boats with their stiff linen sails still dotted the water. The fishing must be good indeed if the men were still out this late in the day.
    A breeze stirred the reeds on the bank around them, carrying with it the smell of cooking sardines and a richer aroma. Perhaps the women were stuffing some large musht fish with goat cheese. Judas glanced at Jesus again to see if the scent registered. It was his favorite meal, after all. But his younger friend’s eyes never wavered from the heavens. Besides, it was doubtful that Mary, his mother, would be inclined to favor her oldest son with such a delicacy. She was still of ill temper that Jesus had not taken up an occupation since the family had returned home to Capernaum.
    But after the death of Joseph, Jesus’ interest in carpentry had died as well. Even though he had his mother and five younger brothers and sisters to support, Jesus had retreated even further into his meditation. James and Jude, neither past their bar mitzvah, were scaling the catches brought to shore by the fishermen or hauling firewood, anything to bring home coin.
    Reminded of his own obligation, Judas returned to work on the leather strap. His own father had died years ago, and he was used to providing for his mother and three younger sisters, but physical labor was beyond him now. His right leg was laid out straight, still too stiff to tuck under him. Unconsciously he rubbed his throbbing knee. On inspection, it looked no different from the left. The ache lay deep inside.
    They had been far from home, traveling south in the winter, following the harvests. The kindly act of helping a villager with a bogged oxcart had cost him dearly. His leg had been crushed under the heavy wheel. A Roman soldier had been benevolent enough to set the limb, but had admitted he was no physician. It had taken a month until they had found an Essene disciple with the knowledge to rebreak the leg and set it properly. Even then it had not healed with the strength it once had. He could walk and perhaps carry a light load, but to balance on a scaffold? To use his right leg to brace when swinging a scythe? The tender bone could not bear such strain.
    But his injury had not erased his younger sisters’ needs. Food, shelter, and dowries did not fall from the heavens. What else could he do but swallow his pride and learn the skill of leather craft?
    Even those who knew of his misfortune still felt unsettled at his profession, for most of his work was commissioned by the Romans. Who else needed studded belts or straps for their quivers? He knew the derision the others felt for him, but he did not cause the Roman occupation, and it would not end if he stopped making scabbards.
    The only one who had passed no judgment sat next to him on the bank. Two fatherless boys set apart from the others. One ostracized for his entanglement with their oppressors, the other for his aloof manner. Most could not sit with any comfort next to a boy who sometimes went days without speaking. And when he did grace people with words, most times it was to correct their recital of Scripture. No, most avoided this boy who seemed to know more about God’s will than even the high priests.
    Just this morning Judas had found his friend sitting alone at the edge of the sea before the mist had even risen from the waters. Judas had brought a breakfast of dried sardines and coarse bread, but Jesus had ignored both the food and his presence. Most days Judas would fill the empty air with word of Jerusalem, and if he ran out of such news he would whisper rumors of the town. However, Judas had to admit it was more to bait his austere friend than to truly inform him.