She startled to the fall of horses' hooves and the crunch of chariot wheels on the gravel outside.

She had been awake for several hours, having risen before the light of day. Her friends, Hermas ben David and his wife, Julia had yet to stir. Strong steps with military bearing approached the door. Mary stood, afraid to receive such a visitor. The frame of the Roman officer filled the doorway. Gold, brass and white tunic gleamed. Roman eagles glistened. A sword hung at his side in its scabbard. How many times had it tasted the blood of a neighbor or friend? How many times had it tasted Jewish blood?

"How may I help you, Roman?" she asked with the tone of a woman old enough to be his mother. He remained silent, looking at her. The expression on his face did not bear the usual attitude of stone. He did not look through her with superior eyes of haughty disdain. There seemed instead something else.

"Mary?" he spoke, a trace of compassion in his voice.

Throughout his time with his disciples, Mary had tried to follow Jesus. What with a large family and with Joseph gone, much of the time she could not. There was so much to do. Even so, her heart had followed him. She often imagined him teaching others, healing, being the exceptional, kind human being he was. Though she knew he had a unique purpose she thought of him and treated him the same as her other children. Or, at least, she tried to. Given the nature of his birth, it was sometimes a challenge. After all, she had raised him, watched him grow every day of his life through childhood, adolescence and into manhood. Yet she never forgot how he came to be, nor the great honor bestowed on her. To this day, she had never understood it but simply accepted it as the will of the Father. So it was that on this day in the city of Bethlehem, she had come to be near her son at Passover.

It took a moment for her to realize that the soldier had addressed her by her first name. "How is it that you know me?"

"How is it, dear mother, that in this place you do not know me?"

Mary examined the man closer. The dark eyes, strong jaw, the military bearing. Who?

"Urbanas ben Hermas!" she exclaimed at last. "Oh, I am so ashamed!" They embraced warmly. "Oh!" she said again, "You've grown up!" Words no adult likes to hear, especially a man who takes and gives orders; a man who had slain and ordered others to do the same; a man who had rejected his father's religion and accepted the hated Roman gods and Roman ways as inevitable and routine. These words, spoken by Mary, are the words every adult acquaintance who knew you in childhood inevitably declare. But Urbanus did not really mind. This woman, above all his parent's friends, was his favorite. Her son Jesus, his childhood friend, well, that was another story.

Jesus was everything Urbanus was not. The Centurion of Caesar's Court was glad it was so. He had never bothered to understand what Jesus did and taught. He only knew that he had embraced Judaism which Urbanus hated. He knew that Jesus had somehow managed to pass himself off as a teacher of sorts, yet he also knew that Jesus was despised by the Jewish leadership. For this, Urbanus conceded some level of respect and admiration. But it ended there. Jesus traipsed around the country teaching and preaching as if he were some messianic scion, living off the charity of others--a charlatan, in the view of this proud Roman soldier.

"I heard that you had come," said the soldier. "I've not much time. I must return to my men, but I wanted to see you, to welcome you." He waited as Mary told him that she appreciated his attentions and that she knew he was very busy and shouldn't have bothered. "Mary," he began. He hesitated. He did not want to speak the next sentence. "Mary," he began again, "your son--Jesus--has been arrested." The shock and surprise could not have been more staggering.

"Why?" she exclaimed. "How? Jesus wouldn't harm anyone! Who would do such a thing?" Despite the stunning news, Mary knew that she had been anticipating this for years. Anticipation did not lessen the shock.

"I don't know the details, but rumor has it that Herod empowered Caiaphas to take him into custody. I learned about it from a fellow soldier whose men carried out the deed. I don't know how or for what reason Jesus was arrested, but it is a fact." As an afterthought, and probably to get away from such uncomfortable news, Urbanus asked, "Where are my mother and father?"

"I think they are still asleep," said Mary absently. "Urbanus! Are you sure? How can you be certain?" Urbanus looked at her patiently, though annoyed by the question.

"I am a Roman centurion, mother. I know such things." He waited for the effect of his words. "Now, I must wake my father." He disappeared in the direction of his parent's quarters.

An old man's voice in her head: "A sword shall pierce your own heart also." Tears welled into the crinkles of her eyes. Her breath came in short gasps. Her stomach recoiled. I must go to him!