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 </div><p></p><span style="font-weight: 400;">It was on a starless night they came. Rome’s most dreaded military unit, in battle formation. Skilled warriors, sent for us. Like we were an enemy army. Like we weren’t just thirteen men. </span>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I wasn’t one for much talk, so I dove in, dagger first, drawing first blood. I slashed the ear of the army’s commanding officer. But the others didn’t join in. The ones that didn’t scamper away, stood there. They were strangely calm, like the master. Master hurried over and healed the severed ear, cautioning me. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Then, the soldiers dragged master away. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">*** ***</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I sat with the people around the fire, warming myself while I waited.They’d taken him behind the high walls of the synagogue. The fierce guards at the gate wouldn’t let anyone in. I worried immensely. It wouldn’t be a fair trial. The sadducees would never let master walk free. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I raised my head upon hearing approaching horses. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Four Roman soldiers dismounted and hurried towards us. Wet and shivering, they joined us by the fire. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;"> One of the soldiers with a ragged scar on his cheek, produced a flask of hot soup. The soldiers took turns at taking sips.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">My rebellious teeth chattered. </span></p>
<p><img class="alignright wp-image-32613" src="http://wrr.ng/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/ROCK-by-Elvis-Okeji-1.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="386" loading="lazy"></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Scarface looked in my direction,frowned and passed the flask to me. I accepted. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I took a long swig and sighed. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">” Hey, you there, you look familiar. ” scarface soldier bellowed. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I shrunk. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">” Aren’t you one of the followers of the healer of Nazareth? ” he queried. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I panicked. The other soldiers had started to reach for their swords. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I guffawed. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">”The one that calls himself the savior? I loathe him! ” I replied. ”Hail Caesar, ” I roared </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">The soldiers cheered and we went back to drinking. As I looked into the leaping flames, they reminded me of that night. The night we’d been with the master, when he’d been asking us who we thought he was. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I’d answered. What’d he think of me now.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>*** *** ***</strong></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">A cock crowed in the distance </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Grief tore at me. Master had known. He said I’d deny him thrice. He’d known all the while and hadn’t pushed me away. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I stood, watching them pull down his corpse from the cross he’d hung on, the grief, like steam, dissipated, mixing with the cold air of Jerusalem. I heard the master’s firm words, ringing in my head. It said : </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">” Peter, lead my church. ”</span></p>
 
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 Elvis Okeji </a>
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ROCK
