The Prisoner in the Third Cell Read Online Free

disciples broke in with an observation. “Teacher, we have fasted almost to the point of starvation. We have prayed until our knees were sore. We follow your example in these things. You fast, you spend your life in prayer, you live a life of great restraint and discipline in all things. Your cousin tells stories, talks of lilies and birds, seeds and sheep, goes to banquets where he eats and drinks. He seems, in general, to be enjoying himself enormously. Some have even called him a drunkard and a glutton. Can you understand why some of us are a little confused?”
    After a long pause, it became clear that John would not respond. Finally John took a deep breath and stood. “The people are waiting, and I have something important to say to them.”
    John walked out into the midst of the gathered multitude and mounted a large stone. It was late afternoon. A cool breeze from the Sea of Galilee was blowing across the field. The sun was setting, and as it did, it bugled enormous golden rays across the sky.
    John looked out across the people and called his heart to remember again his life’s task: to bring Israel to full repentance, to level mountains, fill in the valleys, and prepare the way for God’s final and greatest work upon the earth.
    â€œOur king,” cried John, “has taken unto himself his brother’s wife. Herod has brought down the wrath of God upon himself. Nor will his wife Herodias be spared.”
    It would be no later than the next morning when Herod the Tetrarch would hear of John’s denunciation. And when Herod heard, he went into a rage. But his rage was nothing compared to that of his new wife, for she vowed the darkest possible vengeance upon John the Baptizer. And in that craving for revenge, she screamed to her husband that John be arrested and thrown into a dungeon. Immediately! Nor did that mark the end of her wicked scheme.

Chapter 9
    Protheus looked up to see the cause of the noise at the top of the stairs. He could make out the shadow of a prisoner standing between two Roman guards. Slowly, laboriously, the shackled prisoner made his way down the long, narrow stairwell.
    Protheus could not help but think to himself, “I always imagined you to be a giant of a man; yet here, in this place, you seem in every way to be so ordinary. You appear . . . almost vulnerable. ”
    The prisoner now came into full view. Protheus searched John’s face, but like so many others, he could find not a single clue in this man’s demeanor as to what his thoughts were. Was he afraid? anxious? hostile? Protheus was accustomed to being able to read a prisoner’s emotions at this particular moment. But today this prisoner provided him nothing.
    Protheus turned to one of the soldiers behind him.
    â€œCell three.”
    The soldier opened the iron-gated door; just beyond the grating, the cell dropped off into a pit some twelve feet deep. One of the soldiers was about to tie a rope around one of the bars and let himself down into the pit. Protheus interrupted.
    â€œOne moment. I will chain the prisoner.” With that, Protheus turned to the two Roman guards and motioned for them to unshackle the prisoner. He then walked over to the cell door and let himself down into the rat-infested pit.
    The place was dark, wet, and everything else that a dungeon was supposed to be. Protheus called up to the guards. “Step back from the prisoner.
    â€œJohn, let yourself down here by that rope.” John slipped the rope between his hands and lowered himself into the infernal pit.
    â€œThese chains fastened to the wall—I must clamp them to your feet and hands. The chains are long enough to allow you some movement. They are ordered from Herod. I am sorry to do this. You will remain in this prison until he decides what to do with you.”
    For several moments Protheus labored at the task of bolting the iron manacles around John’s wrists and ankles. When