The eight lines left on the now desolate Aramaic weaving table meant a whole night had gone. The silence was also deafening across the night sky. So I muzzled up every ounce and left the chamber somewhat relieved.

At the Square there was a booming crowd of Corinthians, and traveling Bermudians and Jews alike. One whispered "Death", another said "innocence". You could only whisper for there was a wide hunt for his followers. To see for myself I surfed through the crowd for a better view of the podium. On a fishing boat I found hope and a chance to see the chaos that were rumored in town.

"Dear Sir, do you see anything??" Inquired someone.

"I think so"

I picked the young chap off the muddy ground and together we shared the moment.

"I know that man" said he.

"Which of them?"

"The Carpenter"

" The what? First or second?"

"You don't know him" he said looking amazed. For the first time I noticed his blue eyes. They were so clear that you would think they are diamonds. There was something divine about the child.

" The one at the center. He is innocent. He would have lived if he had abandoned his preaching."

" How did you know that??" I asked, somewhat embarrassingly. How can a child know so much?

"I have followed him all my life. Now you too can" he said. Then he begged to leave and disappeared into the crowd.

I have been too occupied to socialize. Perhaps I would have seen him face to face or heard about his campaign and trials. I have been in my comfort place. Maybe I would have touched him too like one old lady Mr. Mathew talked about at the bar. Oh dear, it was even The Christ that she touched