One day Jesus was in the house and the crowd gathered quickly; so many were striving to find a place where they could hear Him that it was impossible to find room to eat their noon meal, and Peter and the others were worried. "Why, He must be beside Himself!" some were saying. He could be trampled in a crush like that, and Peter, with help from the others, had to effect a hasty rescue, shouldering their way through the crowd and saying, "Give way, give way, there!" in loud voices. Peter could be an imposing figure, with his fisherman's roughness, strong build and a voice that was used to calling across the wind and the waves. And he carried that sword . . .

Finally they had dispersed the crowd into more orderly ranks. Jesus was seated, teaching, when a distraught family managed to bring to Him a son possessed of a demon. Jesus cast out the demon with His command, and some of the Pharisees who were there from Jerusalem to spy on Him and attempt to compile witness against Him began saying, "He must be possessed of Beelzebub himself!" and, "It's by the prince of the devils He casts out devils! "

Jesus, knowing their thoughts, lifted up His voice and said to them all before the crowd, "How can Satan cast out Satan? And, if a house be divided against itself, that house will not stand. And, if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand."

Letting the whiplash of His anger crackle through His words, Jesus said, "And, if I by Beelzebub cast out demons, then by whom do you cast them out? Therefore, they shall be your judges! But, if I by the Spirit of God cast out demons, then is the Kingdom of God come upon you! "

Peter was excited at His anger and words! Now He was showing the kind of miracle-working power He would use when He came into His kingdom!

" How can a person enter into the home of a strong man," Jesus continued in a more reasoning tone, "and spoil his goods, except he first bind the strong man, then he will rob his home?" Puzzled, Peter wondered if the Lord meant that He had to bind up Satan and his demons first before He could assume complete spiritual control of His new kingdom.

Jesus' voice was rising in power again, and He was looking straight at the Pharisaical delegation from Jerusalem. "And truly I'm telling you, whoever is not with Me is against Me, and he that does not gather with Me is scattering. And I'm telling you that every sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men, but the blasphemy against the Holy Spirit shall not be forgiven; it is an eternal sin. And whosoever shall speak a word against the Holy Spirit shall not be forgiven in this age or the age which is to come! Either make the tree good and the fruit of it good, or make the tree corrupt and its fruit corrupt, for the tree is known by its fruit!" He said with ringing power, "You generation of snakes! How can you, being evil, speak good things? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. A good man out of his own good treasure brings forth good things, but an evil man out of his evil treasure brings forth evil things! And I'm telling you that every idle word that men shall speak they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment. For by your words you shall be justified, and by your words you shall be condemned! "

To show Jesus His support, Peter stood to one side, fixing first one and then another of the religious fanatics in the front ranks with an icy stare, hand on the hilt of his sword. Peter reveled in the role he was playing of self-appointed bodyguard to Jesus, and the one upon whom Jesus would depend for His personal protection and safety (with God's help, of course). Peter had helped to convey Him out of dangerous situations before, but this was different! Here in Galilee Jesus was clearly in charge. He was the leader, and the people by the thousands looked to Him as "that prophet" who is to come, or as Elijah, risen from the dead.

Meanwhile, in Jerusalem, Herod Antipas, one of the three sons of Herod the Great and the ruler on the puppet throne, was becoming extremely uneasy.

Daily, impossible tales reached his ears of this "Jesus of Nazareth" who was said to be massing thousands of loyal followers from among the common folk; travelers from Syria and Babylon who had stopped along the caravan routes in Galilee were spreading the most impossible rumors.

They claimed this Jesus had power to heal the deaf and maimed, to cast out the demons from demoniacs with a word, and even had power to raise the dead.

Herod's tormented mind put another twist to the stories, for the events of the past couple of weeks had caused him to toss sleeplessly on his mat, groaning aloud as he strove to drive from his mind the ghastly act he had been forced to commit because of his own foolishness.

Curse that fiendish woman in there, his wife! She must have the eyes of ten cats and the cunning of a snake!

It was all her fault!

And now these wild tales about this "Messiah" up in Galilee had Herod convinced John the Baptist was back from the grave and would come to torment him.

He shuddered, remembering.

John the Baptist had said to him, "It is not lawful for you to marry your own brother's wife."

Herod desperately wanted to consolidate his own position, and marrying Philip's wife, Herodias, was one of the most important political moves he could make. Little could he know the scheming woman had vast political desires of her own. Herod was striving to bring other tetrarchies into his own orbit, and Herodias was hoping to gain the throne and probably poison Herod and become reigning queen.

He had gone ahead with the marriage and, as talk mounted behind his back, decided to teach John the Baptist a lesson. Herodias herself leaked her plots to have John killed, so Herod thought to outwit her by having John cool his heels in prison.

He would be taught a lesson that way, and watch his mouth. Further, while he was under the royal guard, he would be out of harm's way. Do him good to think about his sayings, and contemplate what the consequences were to speak against the crown, Herod thought.

What were his real reasons for marrying Herodias?

She had dark, exciting beauty, flashing eyes and black hair, a kind of knowing, experienced, direct look that could set the blood coursing through his temples and give him an excited quickening of the heart.

But she also had a teenaged daughter.

The daughter, Salome, was absolutely breathtaking. Herod found himself daydreaming as much about the daughter as the mother now and again. And when the wedding was over, and the girl had risen on tiptoe to kiss his sagging cheeks and press his shoulders with her little, exciting hands, the faint smell of her perfume and the touch of her hair on his cheek had set him fairly snorting like a Roman chariot horse in a race. He hoped Herodias didn't see the way he patted her in more than fatherly familiarity now and then as she came near him during their endless series of dinners and parties.

What tragedy! He didn't want to think about it, but the thoughts assailed his mind like vinegar and he couldn't shake them.

It had been on his birthday, just a little over a week ago, when Herodias had outwitted him.

They had been lounging before the low tables, nearing the end of a nearly four-hour Roman-style banquet. There had been endless courses of foods, and some, following the newly popular Roman custom, had turned to empty their stomachs in the vomiting troughs, rinse their mouths with wine and then continue to fill their stomachs with the endless array of delicacies the busy servants placed before them.

The third group of musicians had been playing, and a clanging of tambourines and cymbals announced a special bit of entertainment. Herod had belched his way through the kid and barley cakes, sipped more Idumean wine and peered through heavy-lidded eyes at the draped entry as a lithesome, scarcely clothed, beautiful young dancer began her slow, graceful, tantalizing dance.

As she came closer, Herod had sat bolt upright. It was Salome!

The child was a full-blown woman, he saw, for this was the first time he had ever seen her without her proper clothing in place.

She dipped and swayed, stepped lightly through an intricate dance of the Syrians, undulating her young hips and causing her slim waist and flat, brown little stomach to do the most fantastic things.

Herod thought he would go mad with desire.

With wine dribbling over his beard and staining his loosely fitting toga, he sat forward, completely entranced, as an idea began forming at the back of his wine-soaked brain.

When the dance was over, he gestured with his silver goblet and a servant leaned immediately to fill it with more wine.

"The girl! Bring her here at once!" he whispered.

Dracimus and Pargas seemed not to notice, and Herodias was not here this night, claiming a headache. But Herod's wine-clouded mind supposed his whisper was much softer than it was.

The girl came before him, bowed deeply and smiled.

"Come here, child, come here," he said, handing to her a bunch of grapes that had been chilled in the bottom of the water pots. "Sit by me."

She sat, and Herod congratulated her on the dance, expressing his amazement that she knew it so well and covertly eyeing her swelling bosom and strong young thighs. It was heady stuff indeed, having this young, beautiful creature sitting there with only the skimpy veils and decorated dancing costume that revealed a bare midriff and showed a good deal of supple skin.

Herod drunkenly made his proposition.

"Name the gift you desire, child," he said, expansively, and then added in an undertone, his eyes desperately striving to convey his whole meaning, "and it is yours, even up to half the kingdom!" he finished, spacing the words and emphasizing the word "kingdom."

"Oh, thank you, my lord," she said, sweetly, bowing lower and allowing his reddened eyes to peer lustfully down her bosom.

"May I have only a few minutes to think about my request and to change from my dancing costume?"

"Of course, child, of course," he breathed heavily, leaning over to pat her arm, not noticing the way she pulled back a little at the smell of his wine-laden breath.

Privately, Herod hoped the girl got his implied meaning. She had her own ambitions, no doubt. Her mother could be taken care of in one way or another, and, though Herod knew she could never be his if he poisoned the woman, there could be a convenient accident arranged.

He hoped the girl knew his promise of "half the kingdom" was genuine.

But the whole thing had gone sour as green wine. The dumb young thing had sailed straight to her mother, and Herodias, seeing Herod's plans and turning the situation to her own advantage, told the girl to go back into the banquet and demand John's head, all neatly laid out like some suckling pig on a charger, as a bizarre jest for the banquet.

Herod was dumbfounded. He had wanted to spare him, but he knew Herodias was wild with rage against John—wanted him dead. The woman must have a thousand eyes, he told himself. She sensed somehow that he could have gotten rid of her, married the daughter and gotten around all of John's objections; Salome is not "my brother Philip's wife," he said to himself, imitating John's tone when he had warned him of his infraction of Jewish law. Curses! The whole sordid mess was hanging around his neck like a decaying, uncured camel's skin.

He sighed, remembering.

He had to open his big mouth and make a wild promise right in front of his most trusted aides. And, to keep their respect and retain any semblance of true kingly office, he knew that once a promise had passed his lips it was as if it had the force of law.

The stupid girl!

Instead of seeing what he plainly implied—marriage (eventually)—she had gone prancing in to her mother, exactly as she had been instructed, probably, and spilled the beans. No telling what Herodias had thought; they had never discussed it. But she had proved more clever than Herod could ever have imagined.

Trapped, he had given in, calling the captain of the palace guard and instructing him to send orders to the prison. When he had struggled out of the aching hangover the next day, he could scarcely believe what he had done! He had remembered Salome coming back, walking in that sensuous, promising way of hers, and had been aghast when she had said, "You said I could have anything, even up to half the kingdom. Did you really mean it?"

"Of course, child!" he had exclaimed with a significant look and loaded tone of voice.

"Then I'll have the head of John the Baptist on a charger as a present for my mother!" she had demanded.

How could he have done it? he asked himself.

Yet he had.

The guardsmen had come back within less than an hour, and, like a grisly jest, as if to parody some special course at the banquet, they had borne John's head on a silver charger, garlanded with leaves and sprigs of grapevines. Sickened, Herod had told them to take the thing out of his sight, and, following Salome's gestures, they had carried it straight to Herodias.

Herod had been outwitted at every turn. Now, instead of being able to seek John's eventual blessing, he had become his murderer—no matter how hard he tried to claim charges of "treason, revolution, sedition" and say John was plotting the overthrow of Herod's government. Further, with John dead, Herodias had pointedly explained that none of the other religious leaders dared question his marriage to her, Philip or no Philip, and through subtle means had let him know she understood his secret hopes toward her beautiful daughter.

So now the streets of Jerusalem were alive with wild rumors about this "Jesus of Nazareth." Miracles had been performed, it was said. They claimed he had turned water into wine, could heal the sick, the blind and the dumb, could even raise the dead. Many claimed he must be "Elijah that is to come"; others said he was one of the great prophets, reincarnated, resurrected from the dead!

As for Herod, he was convinced in his heart that this must be John the Baptist come back from the dead!

He remembered how he had allowed John's servants to claim the headless body, and how they had apparently managed to arrange a special tomb.

Herod's scalp prickled. Was this the beginning of the end? He had been acutely aware of the incredible period of intrigue, betrayals, murder, corruption and exploitation that had marked the reign of his father who had at first seemed so skillful at retaining his throne. He was lucky to be alive, when he really thought about it.

He remembered how many times he had heard the story—and the warnings that had been given him by his mother as well as their household sages and teachers. His father, Herod the Great, had allied himself with the Arabian nobility and had become a ruler of Palestine under Hyrcanus II. But, when Rome decided to use armed might in Palestine, sending Pompey there personally, Antipater had been discerning enough to know Rome would finally prevail and so skillfully managed an alliance with Pompey's representative.

Herod's grandfather had managed to commend himself both to Caesar and Mark Antony and, after the famous battle of Pharsalia, was made both a procurator and a citizen of Rome as a result.

His father had begun ruling from early youth when Herod's grandfather had died at age seventy-five.

He had set the whole East on fire with his swift actions, brutal subjection of potential rivals; he had the dangerous archbrigand Hezekiah, who had made serious incursions into the Syrian border, murdered. The assassination of Hezekiah gave some of the nobility among the Jews in Jerusalem a pretext to get rid of him, since they all hated his Idumaean ancestry. And Hyrcanus had possessed the audacity to command him to appear before the Sanhedrin.

He had promptly appeared with a large armed force, and the members of the Sanhedrin who had been openly bragging about how they would take care of this youthful upstart who had exceeded their own authority in executing Hezekiah were meekly overawed and said not a word.

A trial of sorts had ensued, but Herod had sent off an envoy to persuade the governor of Syria to demand his acquittal, and the resultant deal found him in Galilee, absconding with considerable wealth.

Years later he had returned to Palestine, but the intervening period had found him in Rome after the Arabians, who were his people on his mother's side, had repudiated him and Antony made him a tetrarch. Later Antony used his influence to persuade the Senate (with the full agreement of Octavian) to name him king of Judea.

When he came back to Jerusalem, it was in the company of Antony and plenty of Roman troops, who were entirely at his disposal, and he laid siege to the city and took it by storm.

He had been smart enough then to marry Mariamne, a Hasmonaean princess, and put out the word to the Pharisees to accept his rule as a direct judgment from God.

A short while later, he had forty-five members of the Sanhedrin murdered and confiscated their possessions.

Little had he realized that his marriage to Mariamne had brought enemies right into his own household, and that his mother-in-law was plotting to have him overthrown, finding Cleopatra of Egypt a handy ally—for Herod had openly spurned her, and Cleopatra was blistering mad, no matter that her lover, Antony, was Herod's mentor.

It had been a turbulent, wild, impossible period of time. With the huge battle at Actium over, Herod the Great had executed Hyrcanus and then went to Rhodes to meet the victorious Octavian, whose ships had so recently burned the fleet of Herod's own protector and mentor, Antony. Octavian had confirmed Herod's position, and he had returned in triumph to govern Palestine.

Then had followed the ugly period when the monster (Herod thought of him as that now, father or no father) had listened to family intrigue and had two of Mariamne's own sons (who he suspected were plotting against him) assassinated—they were strangled at Sebaste.

Then, even on his own deathbed, he had listened to stories that his own son had been plotting against him, so he sent to Caesar Augustus and obtained permission to put him to death.

One of the most colossal blunders of all had been his decree to kill all the infants following the visit of the Magi, and then he had ordered his own son killed so that the father followed the presently ruling Herod's brother in death by only five days.

No wonder a traditional epigram began to be circulated by Emperor Augustus which read, "It was better to be Herod's swine than a son of Herod."

Somehow he, Herod, the present ruler, had to avert the abominable disasters that had plagued the lineage. Hadn't he begun to build a beautiful new city that he named "Tiberius" on the Sea of Galilee? Wasn't he already finishing fortifying the towns of Sepphoris and Betharamptha in Peraea?

He was wily and clever (it made him furious that rumors had reached his ears that this upstart "Jesus of Nazareth" had referred to him as a "fox"), and somehow it must be possible to prevent this mindless mistake from costing him his power and wealth.

As Herod was battling his tortured thoughts in his palace, Jesus and His disciples were stepping up their pace. Peter was continually amazed at the Lord's tireless physical strength, His seeming disregard for sleep and the way He would fast and arise early to spend much time in prayer.

The news of John's death had come as a terrible blow, especially to Andrew, and it required many a long talk from Peter to calm his brother and remind him of all that Jesus had said.

"He said there was no greater man!" Peter said for the tenth time, at least.

"I know. But I still believe we could have done something," Andrew argued.

They covered the same ground monotonously, Peter explaining, with John's help, that an armed attempt against the dungeon, guarded by Herod's own palace guard, was impossible; that the Sanhedrin needed only a small pretext and Jesus would suffer the same fate; that breaking religious traditions was one thing and open defiance of the law (even if it was corrupt) was another.

Andrew had been disconsolate, and Jesus had tried to help him understand.

The late summer blazed hot and dry, with only infrequent thundershowers to give the land the moisture it needed, and the trails were dusty and long.

All through the long months that followed, Jesus traveled ceaselessly throughout Galilee and Decapolis, continually returning to Capernaum as a kind of home base. He taught, preached, answered endless questions, healed hundreds of sick people and skillfully tangled up the Pharisees, who dogged His steps, with His direct words.

He preached in Chorazin, Nain, Cana, Bethsaida, Capernaum and Tiberius and in dozens of towns and villages on this and the other side of the sea until Peter lost all track of time.

On those occasions when Peter, Andrew, John and James were able to spend a day or so with their families in Bethsaida, Peter would rise early to help with the fishing chores. But it was always only a matter of one or two days at the most and they would be off again, following along as Jesus continually told the crowds, "Repent, all of you! And believe the gospel!"

They would create no small stir upon entering the smaller towns, for it was unusual to see a group of strong young men, accompanied by their servant women and animals, traveling about away from the main caravan trails.

Mary, Mary Magdalene and Joanna, who was wife to Chuza, a servant of Herod himself, traveled with them much of the time, seeing to their packs, washing their clothing in the streams and preparing their meals.

Always there were those who came following along from one town to the next to spread stories in the public squares about Jesus' powerful words and His mysterious talk of the "Kingdom of God" that was just ahead, or to tell how He had healed them or their children.

It would never require more than an hour, barely time for them to arrange lodging or to set up a camp near a stream or a well, when the local townsfolk began clamoring for Jesus and bringing their sick.

As winter neared, Jesus began spending even more time near Capernaum, teaching in His own home from time to time, or entering the synagogue and reading and answering questions.

Things had been going fairly smoothly for some time now, for they had avoided any direct confrontations with any officials from Jerusalem as long as they kept to the smaller towns. But, as sure as they spent more than one day at a time in a larger city, like Capernaum, the officials would show up, usually with a spy from Jerusalem with them, trying to trap Jesus in His words.

This was the second day of the week and they had only been back in Capernaum for a night and a morning when Peter was particularly puzzled by something Jesus said.

They were in the house again and a small group of officials arrived to request a special visit. Apparently, they hoped it would be a showdown, of sorts—hoped to put an end to Jesus' continual teaching.

They stood in the court and their leader said, pompously, "Master, we want to see some sign, some definite proof of Your authority from You!"

"An evil and adulterous generation seeks after a sign,' " Jesus said, "but there shall be no sign given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah. For, just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so shall the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth!"

What did He mean by that? Peter wondered. Though Peter was familiar with the story of Jonah, he had found himself seeing possible flaws in it and had experienced doubts, especially since he was a fisherman. Peter didn't know that much about saltwater fish, but he had exchanged tales with the fishermen of the Syro-Phoenician coasts and from Joppa on the few occasions when he had been there.

He marveled at their tales of huge fish, caught right off the bottom, and which had to be dragged aboard by large lines when they would try to swallow a huge glob of pigs' entrails that some of the gentiles were wont to use as bait! Peter had a difficult time understanding their stories, separating the fact from fiction, their belief in strange gods of the seas, in a boy who rode on a dolphin, and of monsters, dragons, serpents and the place far beyond the Gates of Hercules where some said there were vast and far lands peopled by giants with one eye, and of the songs of nude maids who would lure hapless sailors onto their rock-studded shoals, and of mermaids. But Peter could believe there were huge fish, maybe big enough to swallow a man; he just had trouble believing any man could survive it, let alone three days and three nights! But what did Jesus mean "in the heart of the earth"? Did He mean He would go in hiding somewhere? Did He mean out in the Arabah, that bleak, windblown tinderbox of heat, scorpions and centipedes that was the land of the wandering goat keepers of the gentiles? Would he descend into a cellar somewhere and remain there as a "sign" of some kind?

Jesus was continuing, "The men of Nineveh shall stand up in the judgment with this generation and shall condemn it, for they repented at the preaching of Jonah. And, behold, a greater than Jonah is here. The queen of the south shall rise up in the judgment with this generation and shall condemn it, for she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon. And a greater than Solomon is here!"

Then Jesus delivered another scorching warning to the scribes and Pharisees who were spreading the accusation that Jesus' miracles were done in cooperation with "Beelzebub," the prince of demons!

"But the unclean spirit, when it is gone out of the man, passes through dry, waterless places seeking rest and doesn't find it. Then he says, 'I will return to my house where I came from,' and when he is come he finds it empty, swept and garnished. Then he goes and takes with himself seven other spirits more evil than himself, and they all enter in and dwell there! And the last state of that man becomes worse than the first! Even so shall it be also unto this evil generation!

As usual, the word had been spread, and a large and growing crowd was here, many coming inside unbidden and many more jamming the door and foyer.

While Jesus was speaking, Peter noticed someone attempting to attract his attention outside. Squeezing past those who blocked the door, he looked for the man who had gestured and discovered another of the disciples, who said, "Listen! Jesus' own mother and His brothers and sisters are outside and want to speak with Him!"

Peter relayed the message to Jesus that Mary and the others (James, Joses, Simon, Jude and the girls) were standing around outside and couldn't come in because of the crowd. Hearing this, Jesus stretched out His hands, gesturing with a sweeping motion to indicate to the entire crowd, and said, "Behold, My mother and My brethren, for whoever it is who will do the will of God, My Father, who is in heaven, that person is My brother or My sister or My mother.

"My mother and My brethren are those who not only hear the Word of God but do it!"

Finally, Peter and the others had begun urging the people to leave, saying Jesus' family was waiting and that He was growing tired and that He would no doubt be speaking to them again later or tomorrow.

Jesus spent a little time with His family in private while Peter and Zebedee's two sons ran to the docks to obtain a boat at Jesus' instructions.

The minute Jesus exited from the house, the crowds began to swarm along after Him, and they soon came to the rock jetty where Peter, James and John were standing ready with the boats. After Jesus stepped aboard, they poled away from shore. The other disciples urged the people to be seated wherever they could to wait for Jesus to speak to them.

Peter urged Jesus to eat a quick snack and drink from the cooled water jug he had lowered overside into the cooler depths of the lake. And, thus refreshed, Jesus seated Himself atop the little cabin and began to speak to them in strange-sounding stories ("parables," He told Peter they were).

Hours later, after Jesus finished His lengthy teaching session, Jesus wanted to cross to the other side of the lake and avail Himself of darkness so the crowds wouldn't have time to discover immediately where He went, so they pushed away from the landing and set the sail to catch the nighttime breeze that would carry them across.