“I am like a candle that has gone out on the grave of a poor man.”—Ghalib Torches shine like scars on the dark, smooth face of this spring night when the clanking of steel against a rock startles eight of the apostles awake. A group of armed men—the high priest’s Temple guards and a few Roman soldiers—pass close by, muscles tensed in anxious anticipation.
Book Three, Section Three
Book Three, Section Three
Book Three, Section Three
“I am like a candle that has gone out on the grave of a poor man.”—Ghalib Torches shine like scars on the dark, smooth face of this spring night when the clanking of steel against a rock startles eight of the apostles awake. A group of armed men—the high priest’s Temple guards and a few Roman soldiers—pass close by, muscles tensed in anxious anticipation.