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Captured by the Centaur
Filthy Monster Erotica Book 3

By Harpie Alexander
& Charity Wells
 Copyright
Copyright @ by Harpie Alexander Romance 2020 & Charity
Wells
Editor: Jessey Mills
Cover Designer: Starlight Covers

This novel is a complete work of fiction. Everything included in

this novel: characters, places, events, accidents, storylines, etc. are
drawn from the imagination of the author, not based on real life.
Nothing told in this story is based on any real events, any real
person, any real business or story. Any resemblances of the
characters, or events that occur in this book are completely
coincidental.
All rights reserved. Under no circumstances may this publication
be distributed, transmitted, reproduced in any form, by any means
(including but not limited to: recording, photos, photocopying,
handwriting etc.) without the explicit authorization documented and
signed by the author prior, with the exception of brief quotations for
a critical review and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by
copyright law.
 Chapter One
Erica

Shivering, Erica wrapped the thin scrap of fabric tighter around

her shoulders. It was late, the night dark and cold, the frigid air
forming goosebumps all over her chilled body. She tried not to lean
against the bars of the slave wagon since it could freeze her fragile
skin. Though, she suspected her most recent bout of shivers had
less to do with the weather and more with the ache below her knee.
It had been magically amputated after her last failed attempt to
escape. Lately, however, it had become swollen and painful, making
it more difficult for her to get around.
“Are you alright?” Adriel asked with a sad, sympathetic smile.
“You don’t look so well.”
Erica wondered once again if the tall Fae woman with the pretty
pale skin and powder blue hair could read her mind. She wouldn’t
have been surprised if Adriel could do such a thing. The Fae were
beings of magic after all, so telepathy wasn’t that farfetched. Sadly
though, their magic had been drained the moment Adriel and the
others were captured.
She could almost see the dreadful iron shackles working to drain
the women of their powers. Once those terrible bracelets were
clamped onto them, they lost a great deal of their inner vibrancy. It
was a horrid shame. Without the evil jewelry, everyone could have
been freed long ago.
Realizing she had yet to respond, Erica shrugged, too weak to
muster a real reply. Her lackluster reaction only made the worry lines
on Adriel’s face deeper as the sadness in her ethereal eyes grew.
“No, I’m fine, I promise,” Erica insisted.
“I think you need to see the healer,” Adriel said, her face in a
concerned frown.
“I agree. You look pale,” Neela added, her tired eyes only half
focused on the shadowy forest landscape that rolled by the creaking
wagon.
“Possibly, but we all know that’s not going to happen.” Erica’s
tone was full of sorrow. Not just for her, but for everyone else too.
Life wasn’t easy or fair, and there was no point in being angry over
things she couldn’t change. Growling loudly, her stomach voiced its
newest complaint for all to hear, turning the dour mood even
gloomier. Erica blinked her heavy eyelids a few times while she tried
to ignore her exhaustion and the unrelenting hunger. Everyone
aboard the wagon was hungry, tired and cold, but there was little to
be done about the barbaric conditions. No one was impervious to
the constant battering of the elements as they traveled. Resigned to
her fate, she went back to look at the scenery rolling by outside her
cell, which was her only distraction.
It was quite unfortunate that Narvis, her one-eyed ogre master,
didn’t care about the health of his slaves as long as he was well
compensated with coins. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Erica
knew she hadn’t earned him any since her accident. Not one of his
clients was interested in the scarred, crippled human with dirty
blonde hair. Not when Fae women were brighter, prettier and more
colorful to look at. It was clear that the males who regularly flocked
the caravan wanted something exotic and undamaged. Still, it
terrified Erica that he insisted on keeping her around, feeding her
scraps and offering just enough water to keep her alive.
Why bother at all? What was his plan? Why not just let her go?
Or sell her? At least then he’d make some money off her.
The answers she sought eluded her, but she had all the time in
the world. It’s not like she had anything better to do. Erica couldn’t
even recall when she’d had her last customer. After her accident,
and the infection that nearly killed her, interest in her had simply
disappeared.
What had it been? Several weeks? A few months?
Time was a difficult thing to tell without watches and phones,
especially when trapped in a strange unforgivable place caught
between worlds.
Adriel had once explained that Erica must’ve somehow slipped
through the human world and into hers, a place she called Atvain.
Apparently it was the world between the human one and the next.
One of their guards, who happened to be a goblin and overheard the
conversation, called Adriel a lying soul-sucking slut and stated that
they were actually in Grekor. This had led to a noisy disagreement
between her captured Fae friends and the guards until Master Narvis
intervened, threatening to cull the next slave who embarrassed him
in front of his clients again. He warned everyone that the culls would
be slaughtered and fed to the centaurs. Everyone had shut their
mouths quickly and the subject was never brought up again.
Well, except for when Adriel quietly admitted that there is no
true name for the world because it was apparently a mixture of
many, many worlds which had collided together at the beginning of
time. The borders overlapped and changed constantly, sometimes
swallowing bits from other worlds and sometimes spitting them out
again. No one knew exactly where they started or stopped.
Adriel’s answers hadn’t made much sense to her, and now,
many moons later, they still didn’t. Not really. All Erica knew was that
she was never going back to the human world. She’d never see her
home, family or friends ever again. The only thing she could do was
try to make the best of a hopeless situation.
Well that and avoid pissing off Narvis. After what he said about
the centaurs, she didn’t want to risk being thrown to them. For all
she cared, they could keep their rabid carnivorous selves the hell
away from her and her friends!
Giving up on trying to convince her to ask their master for
mercy, Adriel sighed and went back to quietly humming an old Fae
song, though she did scoot closer to Erica in an attempt to offer her
some warmth and support, at the very least. Erica, who still sat
silently watching the scenery, did appreciate the kind gesture.
However, their serenity was short lived.
“Move out of the way!” Narvis shouted in anger as the wagon
came to a sudden stop, lurching everyone in the cage forward.
Without concrete and paved roads, traveling was always a bumpy
ride, especially when Narvis’s favorite was behind the wheel.
“For Heaven’s sake,” Erica grumbled irritably. Smashed against
the front of the cage along with everyone else, she peeled herself off
the bars and crawled out of the way as much as she could, careful
not to irritate her leg.
“Dragek probably hit something again. I wish he would learn to
fucking steer,” Uulula muttered, then sat up straight and righted
herself, looking between the bars to see what was going on.
Unfortunately, Narvis’s private carriage sat at the front and because
it was so large, it always blocked out the view. No one could see
past it.
There was no doubt about it, Dragek was truly a lousy driver,
but he was the only one Narvis trusted behind the reins when he
wanted to rest his eyes. Dragek was so painfully loyal to Narvis that
it was laughable. The twisted little troll practically licked the master’s
boots if he so much as looked at Dragek. As a result, he was
viciously protective of the wagon and had been known to maim any
male dumb enough to get too close without paying. He was also
overly watchful of the slaves and not in a kindly way.
“I don’t think that’s what’s happening here,” Neela complained,
also trying to see what was going on. “I think we’ve arrived at a
settlement of some sort. Look, wait a second, I was right. There’s
the wall surrounding the village. It blends so well into the
surrounding wood—Oh for fuck’s sake.”
“What is it?” Erica turned her head in the direction of Neela’s
finger. “What do you see?” she asked, but no matter how hard she
squinted, Erica just couldn’t make out what the Fae woman was
talking about. That didn’t surprise her all that much, her night vision
sucked.
Moments later, over Narvis’s angry shouting to wait until they
fucking parked in the settlement, a crowd of males surrounded the
wagon, forcing it to crawl toward the town. It was no surprise they
had caught the males’ attention—they probably saw them coming
from miles away. Everyone, including Erica, was barely clothed, with
exposed flesh anyone would find tantalizing. Eager, hungry eyes
stared at the women inside.
The wagon swayed violently as males pushed and shoved each
other, trying to stick their hands through the bars of their cell for a
free quick grope to ‘test the products.’ Erica’s stomach churned. This
part always made her sick, and it didn’t help that every which way
she turned, hands grabbed at her face, hands and breasts. Angry
cries escaped the other women, but not Erica. She was silent as
night. No point in fighting what couldn’t be fought. Everyone had to
endure the aggressive, unwelcome touches, which wouldn’t stop
until Narvis could placate the males and somehow gain control of
the crowd. What they really needed was more security while on the
road and to hunker down for the night.
That’s when they were supposed to be working. Everyone
except for her, that is.
When the time came, Narvis would park the caravan in a
sheltered area and let the horses have a well deserved rest. Once
that was finished, then he would sell everyone off to the waiting
males who wanted a few moments of lust in exchange for some
coins. And after that male was done, another took his place. It went
on and on until Narvis was satisfied with the night’s profit and was
ready to seek his own pleasures and rest.
A fresh wave of tremors rolled through Erica’s body as she
spared a quick, nervous glance at the crowd again. ‘People’ was
honestly a rather gentle word for what they were. While most of
them appeared humanoid in some way or another, none were
entirely normal. Many resembled creatures and beasts conjured up
from her worst nightmares. There were even a few that were…well,
there were no proper words to describe their monstrous forms. She
just considered them a demonic group of wings, horns, scales and
tails, greedily eyeing them like sacks of meat. Though really, who
was she to judge? Maybe they were nicer than they looked?
It’s not like they would pick her anyway. Just a few grabs until
they realized the truth. No one wanted a cripple and strangely
enough, that bothered her. Why wasn’t a girl with a perfectly good
pussy not good enough to fuck despite her missing leg? She didn’t
understand it. They weren’t paying for a forever mate. A few coins
for a short fuck, or maybe even the night, not a lifetime.
Pity, she thought to herself, then she scoffed at the strange
direction her train of thought had taken. One of these monsters
buying her? Hah.
 What she wouldn’t give to be rescued from this horrid half life
she’d wound up in. To have someone who loved and cherished her,
protected her from the other monsters in this world. Hell, what she
wouldn’t do just to fall into the bed of one of these bastards, even if
it was just one night. Erica wouldn’t deny that she found many of
them too beastly and downright monstrous to ever lie with, but she
was incredibly lonely and that changed things.
She craved touch, even if it was to be used callously and then
be discarded in the morning. It had been far too long since she’d
had the chance to snuggle up to someone and share their heat.
Have them wrap an arm around her, maybe hold her close while she
pretended that everything in the world was fine, that she wasn’t a
slave, that she wasn’t a whore forced to spend her life in a cage and
fuck monsters for their money.
Her first few weeks in this world had been the hardest. She’d
fought viciously, tried to escape, tried to regain her freedom. They
tried to beat her spirit out of her. They nearly succeeded and she
had the scars to prove it. Eventually, laying under a monster while
he used her was just something she endured to survive. After some
time, she got used to it. She even encountered a few who liked her
pleasure as much as their own. Those moments had been almost
nice. Heavens, she was so fucked up now.
She knew she shouldn’t want comfort or even love from a
monster. She should want to go home and find a human man to
settle down with, but that option was no longer available to her
anymore. That ship sailed the moment she randomly decided to go
for a jog because she wanted to lose some weight. She lost weight
alright, just not from jogging.
Erica sighed, thinking about the common phrase, if life gives
you lemons, you make lemonade. For fuck’s sake, she just wanted to
find a tiny bit of happiness and make some damn lemonade. Was
that so terribly wrong?
She could live with her choices. What she couldn’t live with was
that niggling little bit of jealousy she sometimes felt toward the
other women. She knew her companions didn’t want to be there
anymore than she did, but that didn’t change the gnawing envy she
felt when they sometimes returned in the morning with a glow and a
satisfied smile on their faces. She couldn’t help it.
She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that everyone enjoyed
being with their clients. Some came back injured, extremely pissed,
or horrified by their encounters, like Jada and Neema often did. The
two younger Fae girls were rather popular with some of the more
aggressive species that came around. Erica was still willing to risk a
bad night for the chance at a night of passion with someone who
actually wanted her to enjoy it as much as he did. To have them
caress her skin and touch her in places that hadn’t been touched in
who fucking knew how long. Just to be touched at all.
Desperate to be a whore. Her. Erica shook her head at the
ridiculous thought as if it would somehow make it untrue.
Stupid accident…stupid infection…stupid healer for taking my
leg instead of fixing it!
She took a deep breath and exhaled, then glanced down at the
stub of her left leg. It had been removed just above the knee after
she broke it falling in a deep trench while trying to escape again. Her
foot had become lodged in between the rocks as she tumbled down
the embankment, twisting her leg until it cracked under the pressure
and tore through her skin just below her major joint. It had taken
Narvis and his trackers hours to find her, but by then infection had
set in, causing a fever and delirium.
For whatever reason, luck was on her side. Somewhere in this
sick, twisted cosmos she was meant to survive. Sometimes though,
she almost wished that she hadn’t because her life had become so
much more complicated after the incident. For starters, she couldn’t
walk without assistance and it’s not like she had a pair of crutches
lying around, nor would Narvis provide her with them or a
prosthesis.
At least before, when she was earning coin for Narvis, she was
getting more food and occasionally getting off, if she was lucky
enough to have a partner who enjoyed pleasuring her. Though that
was fucking rare, there had been a few perks to her sorry excuse for
a life.
 ∞∞∞

Not long after chasing off the eager crowd of males with
promises that the women would be available later and passing
through the village’s gates, Erica overheard Narvis directing Dragek
to turn down a particular road to set up for the night. Soon they
were parked next to a warm, cozy-looking inn, which was most likely
done on purpose. It was likely that Narvis had made a deal with the
innkeeper.
Narvis always got a discount on the cost of using a hostel’s
courtyard in exchange for encouraging his clients to use the inn. The
innkeeper kept the profits from any of Narvis’s customers who
wanted to bed a female inside, so they were always willing to give
Narvis a good deal. It was smart, but it was also cruel. Erica could
almost imagine the feeling of laying down on a soft bed with a plush
pillow to rest her head on.
Observing the inn and the people milling about, Erica found
herself drawn to its familiar appearance. It was a two story, cabin
style building with oversized double doors and blue-tinted glass
windows that glinted in the moonlight. It was rustic and quaint,
which reminded her of something she’d expect to see in a small
community somewhere in Europe. Erica’s heart lurched from
homesickness.
The charming exterior, as simple as it was, was the most
advanced architecture she’d come across so far. She didn’t pretend
to know how to make glass, but it was the first time she’d seen any
glass since she somehow crossed through the boundaries separating
the worlds. It was rough and primitive, but it still gave her some
hope.
Maybe this inn was close to one of those borders? Who knew
how many other little towns and villages there were and what kind
of technology they had? Maybe there are places even more
advanced than this…
 As soon as Narvis was set up, Erica found herself sitting in the
back corner out of everyone’s way, watching morosely as women
around her were chosen for fucking. One by one her friends were let
out for a few hours—or longer, depending on how much Narvis was
paid—and disappeared into the night.
The emptier the cage became, the more anxious Erica felt. The
warm light of the inn beckoned her, but she was helpless to answer
its call. Noisy, horny males surrounded their cage, all eyes checking
out the inventory.
Erica did her best to appeal to their carnal natures, but they
didn’t seem all that interested in a skinny human female. She hated
how she was lonely and desperate enough to want to be chosen, but
she squared her shoulders and thrust out her chest anyway, trying to
accentuate her feminine features in the only way she knew how. If
she could catch someone’s attention and incite a haze of lust,
perhaps she could find a male who didn’t care about her injury and
wanted to spend the night with her.
Erica’s eyes lit up as a large figure approached, pushing his way
through the rowdy crowd. He was an orc as far as she could tell. Tall
and green, his skin was adorned with golden hooks and piercings,
particularly through his nipples and across his upper chest and
collarbones. He wore nothing but a leather loincloth and a dagger on
his hips, giving her the best display of his attractive, muscular body.
Eyeing the last few women in the cage, he noticed Erica’s
obvious interest. “Do you like what you see, little human?” he
purred.
Erica nodded, licking her lips. Of course she liked what she saw,
he wasn’t bad looking at all. In fact, for an orc he was rather
handsome, especially since he looked a lot like a human male, which
was more than ideal. Eager to be chosen, she scooted closer to the
bars where he could touch her if he wanted, and gave him her best
sultry look. If he wasn’t entirely on board, she hoped her enthusiasm
would seal the deal.
Her heart skipped several beats when he returned her heated
gaze, eye fucking her like she was candy. He reached out to grope
her breast. His touch was light and gentle as he caressed her and
tweaked Erica’s nipple through her thin shirt. It was brazen of him,
especially when he had yet to pay Narvis, but it was so much more
than what she could have wished for. She was hoping for contact of
some kind and here he was showing that he would possibly be a
decent lover as well.
“How much for this one?” he asked, finally calling to Narvis over
the mob that had carried away almost all of the other women.
Heavens, Erica even found his gravelly voice appealing, which
turned her faint hope into real excitement.
“Who?” Narvis replied, trying to see over the big males in his
way.
The handsome orc turned, pressing closer until the only thing
separating them was the bars of her cell as he pointed her out.
It took everything she had to hold back a happy squeal. She
had been waiting for someone to select her for so long, it was
beginning to feel like a dream. If she hadn’t been able to feel the
heat of the orc’s body from where he stood against the side of the
cage, she might have even pinched herself in disbelief.
Shivering from the cold, she basked in his warmth and risked
putting a soft hand on his shoulder. Amused, the orc grinned at her
audacity.
This can’t be real, she told herself as he winked at her. It just
can’t be. No one wants anything to do with me, not once they get a
good look at my ugly stumpy leg. She shook her head, trying to
dislodge the self-pitying thoughts. Erica closed her eyes, silently
whispering thankful prayers to whatever gods existed in the strange
world.
“That one? You want that one?” Narvis asked skeptically when
he came around back and approached his customer, clutching his
bag of coins. He shook his head, his only eye staring directly at
Erica. “No, trust me, you don’t want that bitch. She’s foul-tempered,
ugly and mutilated. Just look at her.”
Erica let out a mortified squeak when Narvis shoved his arm
through the bars and hiked up her skirt, revealing her injury. The
orc’s gaze swung between her swollen, red stump to her face and
back again. The sudden shock in his expression turned to disgust at
the sight of her missing leg. Heart sinking, Erica forced back the
tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She hated this. She
hated being alone even more than she hated being a whore.
It was already bad enough she had such a hard time getting
around, but it was downright horrifying how these creatures treated
her once they knew of her imperfection. Like they were all that
perfect and beautiful themselves, fucking hypocritical monsters.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal. The only thing a whore
needed was a fucking pussy and she sure as hell had one. She
wasn’t useless and she wasn’t worthless, different maybe, but she
still deserved love and affection as anyone else. Erica told herself
this over and over, but it didn’t change the fact that for some reason
her value disappeared the moment she’d lost half her leg.
It was ridiculous.
“No! Please pick me. I can still warm your bed!” she begged,
mortified that her desperation had come to this despite how the orc
proved to be just like all the others who came before him. Unkind,
uncaring and completely unreasonable. She deserved better than
this, better than him, but somewhere deep inside a dark voice
whispered, you have to take what you can get and fight for what
you want.
Narvis let out a grunt of mean laughter and shook his head a
second time. Then he leaned down and whispered so quietly that
Erica was certain she was the only one to hear his voice and smell
his putrid breath.
“Not every male cares if a cunt has both legs, you know. I’ve
turned away dozens of offers for you. You stupid human, I only keep
you around so the others will see your punishment and misery. If
you had learned your place sooner and not tried to escape, you
could be enjoying yourself right now. Instead, I let you suffer and
starve to keep the other cunts in line. The healer could have saved
your leg and they all know it. They won’t ever try to escape now
because they know I’ll do the same or worse to them.”
“Fuck you Narvis and fuck you, you ugly green shit!” Erica spat
vehemently, filled with so much rage and hatred, her body trembled
as she glared at them. That voice in the shadows of her mind was
right. If she wanted her life back, she needed to fight for it. She
wanted was more than slavery, more than a pity fuck, and more
than what she had been willing to settle for.
“Don’t mind her, she’s just a jealous bitch,” Narvis replied,
dismissing her in so few words. Then, he moved to the back of the
wagon and opened the locks.
“Clearly,” the orc muttered. “I find I would prefer a more docile
female tonight.”
“Neela, come,” Narvis barked, snapping his fingers. “This one is
quite pleasant and docile. I’ve had her myself on many occasions.”
“A discount for the insult from your troublesome whore?”
“Of course good sir,” Narvis replied in a weaselly tone, glaring at
Erica as he took the orc’s money.
“You will regret that,” he uttered quietly.
Neela didn’t even look Erica’s way as she was let out and carried
off, into the cozy fucking inn no doubt, but she was no longer upset
about being rejected or the fact that Narvis was pissed now. In fact,
she actually felt kinda bad for Neela, who was a second choice and
maybe wouldn’t be treated as well by the orc who claimed he
enjoyed docile women.
It was in that moment, when Erica was left all alone and
unwanted as the horde of males surrounding her dissipated, that she
decided this was not going to be her fate any longer. She was a
person with feelings and needs, who deserved more than to be used
as a plaything for some or a warning to others. One way or another,
one leg or not, Erica was going to escape Narvis and his band of
goblin guards. Even if it killed her, she was going to find a way.
 Chapter Two
Erica

In time, Erica fell asleep. Her body hurt from the cold and hunger
she felt, but even those discomforts couldn’t keep her awake.
Curling in on herself, she slept fitfully, only becoming vaguely aware
of the comings and goings of the other women. After midnight,
Narvis would lock the door for the last time and the women would
finally be alone except for the guards. Maybe then they could all curl
up together for warmth and get some real rest.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Erica woke to the sound of
excited whispers. Stiff as a board as she sat up, then stretched her
arms over her shoulders and yawned—exhaustion and starvation still
in the forefront of her mind. A gust of icy-cold air blasted into her,
startling her awake with a small yelp and a full body shiver. When
her eyes popped open, she was surprised at how dark it still was.
"Shhh, you’ll wake them! You must be quiet!" Adriel scolded
someone quietly.
"Wake who?" Erica asked warily, now realizing how many of the
others had returned, which was odd. She had been expecting to
spend most of the night alone.
Her stomach growled loudly, interrupting the silence. After
throwing insults at Narvis, the ogre had refused to feed her. Figured
he would be that mean-spirited. When no one responded, Erica
peered through the darkness around her, eyes widening in shock at
the sight of three of the Fae, Neela, Uulula and Adriel, kneeling at
the back of the wagon. Faint, sparkling magic seeped from their
conjoined hands and merged into a lightly glowing haze that
hovered in the air between them.
“What are you doing?!” she whispered, quickly covering her
mouth to muffle the rising pitch of her voice.
“We’re breaking out!” Neela replied in a soft hiss, not shattering
from the connection or her concentration as she spoke.
 Huddled next to the opening of their cage, they focused on the
bulky old lock. They were trying to cast a spell to break it open.
What Erica should have asked was how they were doing magic when
it was constantly being drained out of them, bottled up and stored
until Narvis could sell it to other beings to make talismans or
potions.
Erica’s mind imagined all the horrible things their master would
do to punish them should he discover what the Fae were up to. The
only other woman Erica knew of who had attempted to escape had
met a terrible fate, far worse than her own. Just because he could,
Narvis had sold Viola to a rotten, putrid swamp monster who looked
more likely to eat the poor girl than fuck her. The creature’s smell
alone was almost worse than Viola’s terrified shrieks as the beast
carried her off into the distance. They never saw her again.This was
bad, oh so bad.
“Why are you doing this? He’ll kill us all if he catches you!” Erica
warned them, as if they didn’t already know. Of course they knew
the ramifications of their actions, they were the ones to comfort her
when she had returned, injured and sick. They kept her sane after
the healer took her infected leg, leaving her scarred and in pain.
“He’s not going to!” Adriel replied in a hard, calculated tone.
“And how do you figure that? Someone could come out at any
moment and see what we’re up to. It’s not worth it. You know it’s
not worth it! Narvis did this on purpose!” Erica pulled her skirt up
and exposed her leg for dramatic effect, but the women were too
busy to pay attention. “The damned guard will be here soon. You’re
gonna get caught. I don’t want to see any of you get hurt.”
“The guards are gone. They all went inside the tavern and got
drunk after Narvis went to bed. Apparently they’re giving out free
drinks. Don’t know why, but who the hell cares! It’s gotten them out
of our way for a while. Adriel’s client was a little rough on her and he
actually cracked her bracelet! Between the little bit of magic we all
still have and the extra leaking from her, we have enough. This is
our only shot. You of all people should understand we can’t keep
living like this!” Uulula shot her a look over her shoulder.
 Erica couldn’t understand how the woman could be so calm and
collected when their lives were at stake. The risk they were taking
was tremendous and if Narvis came back before they escaped, it
wasn’t just their lives that would be in jeopardy. Everyone would be
blamed and punished.
With worries and doubts clamoring through her, Erica ultimately
decided she couldn’t allow them to get caught. They were all she
had and after everything they had been through, they needed to
stick together. If that meant supporting them in their suicidal
attempt to escape, then so be it. Count her in.
“You’re right. We need to get out of this hell hole,” Erica said,
her vigilant eyes roaming in every direction, scrutinizing each
shadow. “I’ll keep watch, just make it quick before anyone can
notice what’s happening.”
“That’s the plan.”
Erica vaguely heard the reply, she was too focused on the open
street now to think about who was talking. All she cared about was
making sure everything was quiet, and if it didn’t stay that way, she
could alert the others. As with any town and settlement they visited,
there were always taverns with drunkards stumbling about all hours
of the day and night. It was no problem, so long as they kept to
themselves and didn’t come in the direction of the caravan.
The street briefly lit up in front of the tavern as someone made
their exit.
“Someone’s coming!” Erica urgently whispered, her eyes
narrowing on the shadowy figure coming their way. Light shone on
his face as he passed by a window. It was the orc from earlier,
drunkenly wobbling down the street. Was he coming back for a
second round with Neela?
“Just don’t let them see us! We’re almost done, any moment
now!” Adriel assured her.
“Just make it quick, I can’t stop him if he comes this way!” Erica
whispered as quietly as she could, worried that the orc would see
them and sound an alarm. She breathed a small, relieved sigh when
the orc turned toward an alley, his hands fumbling at his loincloth as
he went. He must be going for a piss, Erica realized.
 “Done!” Adriel exclaimed. The lock cracked, the sound loud in
the night as it clanked against the bars and then thudded to the
ground.
The orc’s eyes shot up at the noise and he spotted her leaning
against the bars of the cage and staring at him. Suspicious, he
stepped toward them. If he came any closer, he might see the
broken lock on the ground.
Erica did the only thing she could think of. She pulled herself up
to stand and yanked up her skirt, flashing her legs for him. “Come
on honey, I knew you’d come back! You know you want a taste of
the crippled human!”
Bleary recognition lit up his face and he grumbled something so
low she couldn’t hear it. He still looked disgusted at the sight of her
bad leg, but didn’t tear his eyes away. Long, tense moments passed
where she was uncertain what he was going to do. He wavered,
looking unsure as if he was going to take her up on her offer. Worry
shot through her. There was no way she would enjoy being with
someone who’d been such a dick to her already. Not to mention if he
really wanted her, he’d have to find Narvis and then their jig would
be up.
Eventually, his lip curled up in distaste and he turned away.
Erica exhaled a deep sigh of relief as she watched the orc shaking
his head while he departed. Whirling around, she faced Adriel, who
was now pushing the door open and jumping out. Following her,
Neela and Uulula jumped out as well, then the other two Fae
climbed down. Erica’s eyes popped out. They did it! They honestly
did it!
Adriel held out her hand and urged Erica to follow. “Come on,
let’s go!”
“Go without me! I’ll only hold you back!” Erica shook her head.
Water welled in her eyes. No matter how much she wanted out,
going with her friends would ruin their chance of escape. She
couldn’t run and they couldn’t carry her for long.
“Nonsense, we’re in this together!” Neela said, her eyes begging
Erica to follow.
 “What about the others?” Erica asked, looking back over her
shoulders to the inn behind her. If they left now, they wouldn’t be
able to save them.
“We all agreed long ago, that if anyone had the opportunity to
escape, to do it. We can’t wait for them, we’ll lose our only chance.
They’ll understand,” Adriel stated, keeping her arm extended.
“The others will understand, you have to believe me. They
would. They may find a way out too, and if they don’t, we can come
back with help and save them, but we can’t do that if we get caught.
So, are you coming with us or do you want to be treated like shit by
Narvis for the rest of your life?!” Uulula said, arguing her point with
conviction.
Erica knew what she’d said was true. Narvis would never let her
live it down if she stayed. She’d forever be the one to blame for
losing some of his best whores. Nodding, she crawled toward the
Fae, clasped on to Neela and Adriel’s hands and climbed out with
their assistance.
With no time to lose, Uulula and the other females ran up
ahead, using what little of their magic they had left to cloak their
escape. Adriel and Neela kindly wrapped their arms around Erica’s
waist, bearing the brunt of her weight as they made their way out of
the village as fast as Erica could go. Waiting for them at the treeline,
the others wasted no time crafting torches to light their way. They
weren’t anything spectacular, but some light was better than none.
As she hobbled into the dark woods, Erica peered over her
shoulder one final time. The wretched wagon she’d lived in for so
long came into view and she said a silent prayer of hope for the
others. She wasn’t sure if they’d ever make it back to help them, but
she hoped so. They deserved their freedom too. All of them did.
After hobbling through the forest for a while, Neela suddenly
ran off. The beautiful Fae woman returned moments later with a
thick branch nearly as long as she was tall. Together, she and Adriel
snapped it in half and then cast another weak spell to reshape the
wood into a set of primitive crutches. With a kind smile, they held
them out to her. Squealing with delight, Erica lunged for the three of
them, nearly falling over before she wrapped her arms around them
and hugged them tight.
“You have no idea how much this means to me,” she said, teary
eyed.
“We can’t grow your leg back, but we can do this for you,”
Neela said, hugging her back.
Sniffling now, Erica rubbed her eyes and wiped her nose with
the back of her hand. A thought popped into her mind and she
suddenly asked, “Even with Adriel’s broken shackle, how did you
even manage to do it? I thought Narvis syphoned all your magic?”
“That’s what we wanted him to believe.” Uulula held up a small
charm for her to see. “But what he didn’t know was, I stole one of
his trinkets after he had me in his bed one night and while he was
draining our magic, we used it to store up what he couldn’t take. It’s
not much, but it’s enough to keep us alive until we can get these
stupid bracelets off completely and our magic is released. For that,
we’ll need to find more Fae. Only with their power can we be fully
restored.”
“Then let’s go!” Erica said.
She was willing to do whatever it took to help her friends and if
that meant traveling to the ends of this strange world, she would
gladly join them in a heartbeat. Without them, she wouldn’t have
had her freedom back or crutches to help her walk. She might have
even died from the infection in her leg without them as well. But
most important of all, without them and their support, she’d be all
alone.
Neela handed her the crutches they’d made and helped hold her
until she was properly balanced. In her excitement, she almost didn’t
notice as Adriel backed away, shifting nervously on her feet. With
her stomach churning, Erica felt a sudden bit of unease at the Fae’s
uncomfortable expression. When she looked over at the others, they
stared down at their feet, the sky, or anywhere else as long as it
wasn’t her, which made her think that something was very wrong.
“I can’t go with you, can I?” Erica stated in a quiet, sad tone.
Adriel let out a deep, unhappy sigh and shook her head. “No,
I’m afraid not. This is as far as we can take you. We aren’t far from
the borders. If you come with us, all our lives will be in peril. No one
but Fae are allowed to enter Fae territory. If you thought Narvis was
evil, you can’t imagine what my kind would do to you or to us, if we
exposed our lands to unwelcome outsiders. It’s not you, I promise.
But we have to leave you here, it’s the only way we can save the
rest of our people.”
Erica’s heart sank while she listened to Adriel’s terrible words.
Terrible because she didn’t want to lose the only friends she had.
But as much as she hated it, she understood. It would be unfair and
selfish if she begged them to stay and she couldn’t risk them getting
hurt for trying to take her with them. Painfully, she nodded and for
some reason, it was the hardest thing she’d had to do in a long, long
time.
More tears filled her eyes as the women embraced her again.
“I’m so sorry,” Neela said. “I wish you could come. Maybe one
day things will change.”
“Don’t be. I was never meant to be here to begin with. Go, get
your magic back, and rescue the others before I change my mind
and beg you to stay,” Erica said, with a sad laugh.
“It’ll be dawn soon. Go north, it skirts the borders and leads
away from the village. Not everyone here keeps slaves, you might
find a friendly homestead somewhere. If we can, we’ll come back
and find you,” Adriel promised before letting go.
After saying their goodbyes, Erica watched as her Fae friends
disappeared into the shadows, leaving her all alone in the creepy
forest. Disheartened, she knew somehow that despite their promises
and their kind words, this was the last time she’d ever see them
again. While they went on their journey, she had her own to figure
out.
With the slightly uncomfortable pair of crutches and the inky
darkness of the woods surrounding her, she was struck by a sudden
thought that left her terrified.
Carnivorous Centaurs lived in these woods, hungry and waiting.
How long would it be until they found her?
 Chapter Three

Hetak

Hetak sighed irritably as his hooves squelched into the thick mud
with every step he took. It had rained earlier in the day and mucked
the trails. The muggy humidity afterward had masked the scents in
the air. If it weren’t for that, he might have already caught up to the
thieves who stole his cart.
His tail snapped as he thought of how all his hard work had
disappeared in a single moment of inattention. Three weeks of
hunting and trapping on this side of the forest. Three weeks of
smoking meat and scraping pelts. Almost all of it was gone because
he took too long tracking one last buck to help feed and clothe his
people through the coming winter.
The other hunters would be returning with their harvests soon,
Hetak would be damned if he returned empty-handed. He wanted to
catch the outsiders who came into his camp and took his meat and
his furs, but he also wanted to break them under his hooves for their
audacity.
By the time he’d discovered the theft, the trail had already been
cold. Even worse, a sudden downpour around midday had washed
away most of their tracks. If they continued west as they had been,
Hetak knew he’d come upon the village of Grishan, a predominantly
orcish settlement. Perhaps the thief made his way there?
Unfortunately, once the cart passed through the village gates, the
goods would be unretrievable without a war party at his back and
that was not an option. Still, he did not wish to see the rewards of
his exhaustive hunt go to waste in that cesspit of a town, but a
centaur alone was no match for a horde of orcs despite the
fearsome reputation of the local herd.
 Hetak didn’t know what possessed the thieves to ’risk’ their lives
over a few slabs of meat and some fur, but when he found them, he
planned to make sure it never happened again. Peaceful dealings in
the past had ended with their homes destroyed and so many lives
lost. His people simply couldn’t afford to risk it again. The terrible
lies were the only things keeping them safe. Having the truth
uncovered could destroy them all. And that was unacceptable.
As daylight faded, a faint sound caught his attention. Slowing
his steps, he searched the forest for the source of the noise. Brush
rustled and twigs snapped nearby. Easing forward in the direction of
the movement, Hetak slowly pulled out his bow, ready to attack
whatever prey he’d come across.
Silently stringing his bow, Hetak nocked an arrow and held it
ready. The sinew gave a quiet creak as he drew back on it, giving it
just a little tension. Then slinking through the shadowy trees, he
hunted for the intruder he could hear.
Out of the corner of his eye, Hetak spotted a figure to his left
slowly making its way through the trees. Curious, he silently circled
around behind to investigate, keeping to the shadows as he went. It
was a small two-legger. A villager maybe? Hoping he had finally
located his thief, he crept closer.
The person hobbled slowly, using a pair of oddly shaped sticks
to prop itself up while it walked. As Hetak drew closer, his eyes grew
wide with surprise. It wasn’t just any villager he happened to come
across. The lone figure belonged to a female. What was she doing
out there all by herself? Unable to pull away, even though he knew
finding his thief was important, Hetak studied the female before him.
Her clothes were dirty and threadbare, completely inappropriate
for the chill in the air. Not to mention, she limped heavily. He
wondered if she was injured somehow, since that would explain the
strange walking sticks she used.
“Son of a bitch!” she yelled, tripping suddenly. As she stumbled
and fell, curses flew from her mouth as she pushed herself up.
Sitting back on her legs, she shoved her dirty mane away from her
face with pale hands and looked up at the sky. “Why!? Why am I
here!? Why does my life suck so damn bad!?”
 Her screams cracked at the end and she slumped, sobbing into
her arms. Hetak found himself lowering his weapon while he listened
to her. He was drawn in by her sorrowful cries. Had someone
attacked her? Was that why she was in such a pitiful state? Perhaps
something was stolen from her as well…
Hetak emitted a low grumble of frustration, shaking his head as
he looked back in the direction his cart had been taken. He really
needed to find that thief, but it seemed this female needed his help
more. He would be a poor example of a stallion if he ignored an
injured female.
Unstringing his bow and hooking it over his back, he stepped
into the clearing to approach the distraught female. When one of his
hoofs connected with a rock jutting out of the dirt, it sprang free and
clattered as it skipped away from him. The sudden noise caught the
female’s attention. Gasping, her head whirled around to face him,
her eyes opening wide as she stared in shock. Hetak stared back. He
too was surprised, he wasn’t expecting to see a human. They were
incredibly rare in this part of the land, especially considering they
didn’t originate from this world.
She flipped around fully, terror filling her eyes as she watched
him emerge from the shadows. As he moved toward her, she
scrambled backward and pushed away from him with a horrified
scream.
“Stay away!” Grabbing one of her sticks and swinging it like a
weapon, she slid further and further away from him. Her flailing
caused her skirt to hike up and Hetak realized she was missing the
lower half of one leg. The remaining stump was twisted, badly
scarred, and showed signs of lingering infection.
“Easy female,” he said softly as he held his hands out in a
nonthreatening manner. “I won’t harm you. I just want to help.”
Hetak kept his voice low while approaching the frightened
human. He wasn’t too familiar with their species, but he was very
familiar with frightened prey. Many of which became dangerous
when cornered and afraid.
“Help me? Yeah right. More like help yourself!” she accused, her
voice trembling with fear. “I’ve heard what your kind are like. I’m as
good as dead. You’ll eat me and discard what’s left of my carcass
into whatever wasteland you came from!” she yelled, jabbing her
stick at him.
Hetak barely stifled his laughter at her accusations, but he failed
to hide his grin. He dropped his hands to his sides and shook his
head ruefully. It figured that the only human he’d seen in years
would have heard the rumors about his people. The female
continued to scoot away from him, watching with suspicion and
holding her stick weapon at the ready.
“Cease this nonsense and come with me so I may see to your
wounds,” he fussed as he stepped out of range of her makeshift
weapon. It wasn’t really a weapon, but he wasn’t going to tell her
that, not when she was so worked up. “No doubt you are in need of
food and other care as well.”
“Why in Heaven’s name should I go with you? I am perfectly
capable of taking care of myself, you know! I don’t need a
carnivorous centaur bothering me.”
Her voice was proud and she held her chin high even as she
attempted to mask the uneasy tremble in her voice. Her feigned
confidence was rather adorable and Hetak found himself enjoying
her spirited denials.
“I have no doubt about that, but unless you plan to weather the
coming storm alone, I suggest that you allow me to offer a modicum
of assistance.”
“Storm?” she asked as she looked up at the sky, biting her lip at
the sight above them.
It was nearly sundown, and Hetak could see the heavy, gray
clouds rolling across the sky. The weather was cold enough now that
the rain could easily turn to sleet or even snow. He didn’t know how
long they had, but if he didn’t convince the female to trust him, he
doubted she’d last the night. Not in her current condition anyway.
“I assure you, female, I have no interest in eating a dirty, skinny
human like yourself, much less doing anything else to you,” Hetak
stated seriously, doubling his efforts to convince her. “Let me help
you, before you end up freezing to death in the mud out of sheer
stubbornness.”
 Oddly enough, sadness filled her eyes at his words, but she
made no move to drop her staff despite her trembling hands. Hetak
kept his unwavering gaze on her and waited her out. He couldn’t
understand why the assurance that she wasn’t going to be eaten
made her sad. Whatever the reason, her guard wavered and
eventually, she dropped her stick. It was progress of sorts.
“Do whatever,” she mumbled, shrugging. “I don’t care
anymore.”
Hetak frowned. He only wanted to help, but the more they
talked, the more despondent she became.
“You are obviously lost and injured, I want only to help you.”
Moving toward her again, Hetak reached down and gently took
the stick from her hands and set it out of her reach. Then, he
carefully slipped his hands under her body and lifted her from the
muddy ground.
She hung limply in his arms, not responding while he shifted her
into a more comfortable position. Her delicate arms folded against
her chest and she rested her head on his shoulder with a tired sigh.
She weighed so little and Hetak could feel how thin and cold she
was. He needed to get her to safety and soon.
Turning in the direction of his camp, Hetak trotted back the way
he’d come, no longer caring that his weeks of labor were now for
nothing. He would retrieve none of the stolen hides or food.
Strangely, he was unbothered by the thought. More concerned with
helping the pitiful female in his embrace, Hetak ran as swiftly as he
dared with his new, unexpected burden.
 Chapter Four
Erica

Erica found being carried by a centaur was weird. Even though

Hetak held her tightly to his chest like a human would when carrying
someone, she still bounced and jostled oddly with his swift steps.
She couldn’t tell if it was because of their speed or because he had
two extra limbs that powered his movements. Hooves pounded a
rhythm into the ground and his breathing was deep and even under
her ear. The stallion’s skin was warm and smelled of leather and
herbs, not at all what she thought a cannibalistic creature would
smell like. Erica decided that she rather liked how this male smelled.
Traveling at a pace faster than anything she could have
managed on her own, even if she had both legs, the centaur’s
hoofbeats ate up the miles like they were insignificant. In almost no
time at all, they had passed so deep into the forest. Erica guessed it
would take her days just to travel all the way back on her own. Not
that she planned to.
With nothing else to do but wait out the ride, Erica’s eyes
shifted to the angry sky overhead. The handsome centaur was right,
there really was a storm rolling in. The cold wind picked up pace,
biting into her exposed skin. Shivering involuntarily, she turned her
body so that her hands were tucked against his chest.
“We are almost there, human,” the centaur assured her.
His pace quickened while he dodged in and out between the
trees. He was moving so fast now, the surrounding forest was a bit
of a blur. “Just a little farther to my camp.”
His voice was deep and rich, sending a lick of heat down her
spine in spite of her lingering apprehension. He was nothing like
Narvis had led her to believe. So far he’d been patient and ever so
kind to her. And now he was even showing genuine concern. It was
one thing to say he wanted to help her, but now he was proving true
to his words.
 “Soooo, you really aren’t planning to eat me or anything right?”
Erica asked, unwilling to let the quiet descend once more.
The centaur chuffed under his breath then hitched her a little
higher in his arms before he answered. “No human, I do not intend
to eat you.”
“What’s your name?” she requested suddenly, finally looking up
at him. Warm brown eyes met her own and he gave a little smile.
“I am Hetak of the Wandering Wind Tribe,” he replied easily, not
winded despite the swift lope he used. “What do I call you?”
“I’m Erica…Erica Murphy. I’m…um…I’m sorry for screaming at
you like that,” Erica said, floundering over her words. “You’re not
what I was expecting.”
Hetak’s eyes crinkled in amusement before he returned his
attention to the path he was taking. “It is nothing, Erica Murphy.
Your reaction is to be expected. I took no offense.”
“Still, thank you for not leaving me to die.”
“I would not have left you. It is simply easier if you allow me to
assist, rather than having to capture and throw you over my
shoulder. I dislike getting kicked,” Hetak admitted, glancing at her
again. Erica gave him a little frown and he chuckled at her
expression. “You have naught to fear from me. Regardless of how
our first interaction went, I still intended to help you, not harm you.”
“Yeah, well, you try anything and I’ll geld you before you can
blink.” Erica threatened with a scowl, glaring up at the centaur so he
could see how serious she meant the threat.
Hetak startled her when he threw back his head and burst into
loud guffaws of laughter. “You are a spirited female, Erica Murphy.
Why are you not home with your mate? How did one such as
yourself come to be lost in this forsaken forest?”
Erica’s mood took another nosedive at his questions. She sighed
heavily before choosing to answer him honestly. “Slaves don’t have
mates to stay home with. And I got lost so I couldn’t be found by
my former master. If he were to catch me, he’d probably kill me this
time.”
Hetak’s expression turned serious and his steps faltered. “This
time?” he prompted after a quiet, thoughtful moment.
Another random document with
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the western side, within the precincts of the castle, are ruins of many private habitations. At
both the western corners, runs a succession of dark, strongly built, low apartments, like
cells, vaulted, and with small narrow loop holes, as if for musquetry. On this side also, is a
well more than twenty feet square, walled in, with a vaulted roof at least twenty-five feet
high; the well was, even in this dry season, full of water: there are three others in the castle.
There are many apartments and recesses in the castle, which could only be exactly
described by a plan of the whole building. It seems to have been erected during the period
of the crusades, and must certainly have been a very strong hold to those who possessed
it. I could discover no traces of a road or paved way leading up the mountain to it. In winter
time, the shepherds of the Felahs of the Heish, who encamp upon the mountains, pass the
night in the castle with their cattle.

“Banias is situated at the foot of the Heish, in the plain, which in the immediate vicinity of
Banias is not called Ard Houle, but Ard Banias. It contains about one hundred and fifty
houses, inhabited mostly by Turks: there are also Greeks, Druses, and Enzairie. It belongs
to Hasbeya, whose Emir nominates the Sheikh. On the north-east side of the village, is the
source of the river of Banias, which empties itself into the Jordan at the distance of an hour
and a half, in the plain below. Over the source is a perpendicular rock, in which several
niches have been cut to receive statues. The largest niche is above a spacious cavern,
under which the river rises. This niche is six feet broad and as much in depth, and has a
smaller niche in the bottom of it. Immediately above it, in the perpendicular face of the rock,
is another niche, adorned with pilasters, supporting a shell ornament.

“Round the source of the river are a number of hewn stones. The stream flows on the
north side of the village, where is a well built bridge, and some remains of the ancient town,
the principal part of which seems, however, to have been on the opposite side of the river,
where the ruins extend for a quarter of an hour from the bridge. No walls remain, but great
quantities of stones and architectural fragments are scattered about.

“I went to see the ruins of the ancient city of Bostra, of which the people spoke much.
Bostra must not be confounded with Boszra, in the Haouran; both places are mentioned in
the Books of Moses. The way to the ruins lies for an hour and a half in the road by which I
came from Rasheyat-el-Fukhar, it then ascends for three quarters of an hour a steep
mountain to the right, on the top of which is the city; it is divided into two parts, the largest
being upon the very summit, the smaller at ten minutes walk lower down, and resembling a
suburb to the upper part. Traces are still visible of a paved way that had connected the two
divisions. There is scarcely any thing in the ruins worth notice; they consist of the
foundations of private habitations, built of moderate sized square stones. The lower city is
about twelve minutes walk in circumference; a part of the four walls of one building only
remains entire; in the midst of the ruins was a well, at this time dried up. The circuit of the
upper city may be about twenty minutes; in it are the remains of several buildings. In the
highest part is a heap of wrought stones, of larger dimensions than the rest, which seem to
indicate that some public building had once stood on the spot. There are several columns of
one foot, and of one foot and a half in diameter. In two different places, a short column was
standing in the centre of a round paved area of about ten feet in diameter. There is likewise
a deep well, walled in, but now dry.

“The country around these ruins is very capable of cultivation. Near the lower city are
groups of olive trees.
 “I descended the mountain in the direction towards the source of the Jordan, and
passed, at the foot of it, the miserable village of Kerwaya. Behind the mountain of Bostra is
another, still higher, called Djebel Meroura Djoubba.” [Burckhardt’s Syria, pp. 37‒42.]

From Conder’s Modern Traveler I also draw a sketch of other travelers’ observations on
the place and the surrounding country.

“Burckhardt, in coming from Damascus, pursued the more direct route taken by the
caravans, which crosses the Jordan at Jacob’s Bridge. Captains Irby and Mangles left this
road at Khan Sasa, and passed to the westward for Panias, thus striking between the road
to Acre, and that by Raschia and Hasbeya. The first part of the road from Sasa, led through
a fine plain, watered by a pretty, winding rivulet, with numerous tributary streams, and many
old ruined mills. It then ascended over a very rugged and rocky soil, quite destitute of
vegetation, having in some places traces of an ancient paved way, ‘probably the Roman
road from Damascus to Caesarea Philippi.’ The higher part of Djebel Sheikh was seen on
the right. The road became less stony, and the shrubs increased in number, size and
beauty, as they descended into a rich little plain, at the immediate foot of the mountain.
‘From this plain,’ continues captain M., ‘we ascended, and, after passing a very small
village, saw on our left, close to us, a very picturesque lake, apparently perfectly circular, of
little more than a mile in circumference, surrounded on all sides by sloping hills, richly
wooded. On quitting Phiala, at but a short distance from it, we crossed a stream which
discharges into the larger one which we first saw: the latter we followed for a considerable
distance; and then, mounting a hill to the south-west, had in view the great Saracenic
castle, near Panias, the town of that name, and the plain of the Jordan, as far as the Lake
Houle, with the mountains on the other side of the plain, forming altogether a fine coup
d’œil. As we descended towards Panias, we found the country extremely beautiful. Great
quantities of wild flowers, and a variety of shrubs, just budding, together with the richness of
the verdure, grass, corn and beans, showed us, all at once, the beauties of spring,
(February 24,) and conducted us into a climate quite different from Damascus. In the
evening we entered Panias, crossing a causeway constructed over the rivulet, which flows
from the foot of Djebel Sheikh. The river here rushes over great rocks in a very picturesque
manner, its banks being covered with shrubs and the ruins of ancient walls.’

“Panias, afterwards called Caesarea Philippi, has resumed its ancient name. The
present town of Banias is small. Seetzen describes it as a little hamlet of about twenty
miserable huts, inhabited by Mahomedans. The ‘Castle of Banias’ is situated on the summit
of a lofty mountain: it was built, Seetzen says, without giving his authority, in the time of the
caliphs.” [Modern Traveler Vol. I. pp. 353‒6.]

The distance, in time, from Mount Tabor to Caesarea Philippi, may be conceived from
the account given by Ebn Haukal, an Arabian geographer and traveler of the tenth century.
He says “from Tibertheh (Tiberias, which is near Tabor) to Sur, (Tyre,) is one day’s journey;
and from that to Banias, (Paneas,) is two day’s easy journey.” [Sir W. Ouseley’s translation
of Ebn Haukal’s Geography, pp. 48, 49.]

This was an occasion on which Christ did not choose to display

his glories to the eyes of the ignorant and impertinent mobs that
usually thronged his path, drawn together as they were, by idle
curiosity, by selfish wishes for relief from various diseases, or by the
determination to profit by the mischief, which almost always results
from such a promiscuous assemblage. It may be fairly considered a
moral impossibility, for such disorderly and spontaneous assemblies
to meet, without more evils resulting, than can possibly be
counterbalanced by the good done to the assembly as a whole,
whatever it may be to individuals. So, at least, Jesus Christ seems
always to have thought, for he never encouraged such gatherings,
and took every desirable opportunity of getting rid of them, without
injury to themselves, or of withdrawing himself quietly from them, as
the easiest way of dispersing them; knowing how utterly hopeless
must be the attempt to do any great good among such a set of idlers,
compared with what he might do by private and special intercourse
with individuals. It is worthy of note, that Matthew and all whose calls
are described, were about their business. Thus, on an occasion
already mentioned, when Jesus was walking by the sea of Galilee,
with the simple object of doing most good, he did not seek among
the multitude that was following him, for the devoted laborers whom
he might call to the great work of drawing in men to the knowledge of
the truth as revealed in him. No: he turned from all the zealous
loungers who had left their business, if they had any, to drag about
after the wonderful man who had attracted general attention by his
great and good deeds. He dispatched them as fast as possible with
a few words of instruction and exhortation; for though he did not
seek these undesirable occasions, yet he would have been as much
wanting in benevolence as in wisdom, if, when all the evils of such a
throng had occurred by the meeting, he had not hastened to offer the
speediest antidote to the mischief, and the best compensation for the
loss of time to the company, by giving them such words of counsel,
reproof, correction or encouragement, as, even when cast like bread
upon the waters, or seed by the way side, might yet perchance, or by
grace, “be found after many days,” returning to the hands of the
giver, in gratitude, by springing up and bearing some fruit to the
praise and glory of God. Having thus sent off the throng, he
addressed himself to the honest men whom he had found quietly
following their daily employments, and immediately performed with
them there, and, as is evident, mainly for their benefit, a most
remarkable miracle; and when they had been thus impressed with
his power and wisdom, summoned them to his aid in converting the
world; sagely and truly judging, that those who had been faithful in
few things, would be the best rulers over many things,――that they
who had steadily and faithfully worked at their proper business, had
the best talent and disposition for laboring in a cause which needed
so much patient industry and steady application in its devotees.
These were the men whom he hoped to make by his instructions, the
successful founders of the Christian faith; and these were the very
men whom, out of thousands who longed for the honors of his
notice, he now chose as the objects of his special instruction and
commission, and called them apart to view the display of the most
wonderful mystery of his life.

Among these three favored ones, we see Peter included, and his
name, as usual, first of all. By this it appears, that, however great his
late unfortunate misapprehension of the character and office of
Christ, and however he may have deserved the harsh rebuff with
which his forward but well meant remonstrance was met; still he was
so far from having lost his Master’s favor on this account, that he yet
held the highest place in the favor of Jesus, who had been moved by
the exposure of his favorite’s ignorance, only to new efforts to give
him a just and clear view of the important truths in which he was
most deficient; for after all, there was nothing very surprising in
Peter’s mistake. In pursuance of this design, he took these three,
Peter, James and John, with him, up into the high mountain peaks of
Hermon, from which their eyes might glance far south over the land
of Israel――the land of their fathers for ages on ages, stretching
away before them for a vast distance, and fancy could easily extend
the view. In this land, so holy in the recollections of the past, so sad
to the contemplation of the present, were to begin their mighty
labors. Here, too, bright and early, one of the three was to end his;
while his brother and friend were to spread their common Master’s
dominion over thousands and millions who had never yet heard of
that land, or its ancient faith. Jesus Christ always sought the lonely
tops of mountains, with a peculiar zest, in his seasons of retirement,
as well as for the most impressive displays of his eloquence, or his
miraculous power. The obvious reasons were the advantages of
perfect solitude and security against sudden intrusion;――the free,
pure air of the near heaven, and the broad light of the immense
prospect, were powerful means of lifting the soul to a state of moral
sublimity, equal to the impressions of physical grandeur, made by the
objects around. Their most holy historical associations, moreover,
were connected with the tops of high mountains, removed from
which, the most awful scenes of ancient miracle would, to the fancy
of the dweller of mountainous Palestine, have seemed stripped of
their most imposing aids. Sinai, Horeb, Moriah, Zion, Ebal, Gerizim
and Tabor, were the classic ground of Hebrew history, and to the
fiery mind of the imaginative Israelite, their high tops seemed to
tower in a religious ♦ sublimity, as striking and as lasting as their
physical elevation. From these lofty peaks, so much nearer to the
dwelling place of God, his soul took a higher flight than did ever the
fancy of the Greek, from the classic tops of Parnassus, Pelion, Ida,
or the skyish head of blue Olympus; and the three humble gazers,
who now stood waiting there with their divine Master, felt, no doubt,
their devotion proportionally exalted with their situation, by such
associations. It was the same spirit, that, throughout the ancient
world, led the earliest religionists to avail themselves of these
physical advantages, as they did in their mountain worship, and with
a success just in proportion as the purity and sincerity of their
worship, and the high character of its object, corresponded with the
lofty grandeur of the place.

♦ “snblimity” replaced with “sublimity”

 “Not vainly did the early Persian make

His altar the high places, and the peak

Of earth-o’er-gazing mountains, there to seek

The spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak,

Upreared of human hands. Come and compare

Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek,

With nature’s realms of worship, earth and air;

Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer.”

In such a scene, and inspired by such sympathies, were the

chosen three, on this occasion. The bare details, as given in the
three gospels, make it evident that the scene took place in the night,
as will be shown in the course of the narrative; and this was in
accordance also with Christ’s usual custom of choosing the night, as
the season of solitary meditation and prayer. (Matthew xiv. 23.)
Having reached the top, he engaged himself and them in prayer.
How solemn――how awful the scene! The Savior of all, afar from
the abodes of men, from the sound and sight of human cares and
sins, alone with his chosen three, on the vast mountains, with the
world as far beneath their eyes as its thoughts were below their
minds;――in the silence of the night, with the lights of the city and
villages faintly gleaming in the distance on the lower hills and the
plain,――with no sound near them but the murmuring of the night
wind about the rocks,――with the dark canopy of gathering clouds
above them,――Jesus prayed. His voice went up from this high altar
of earth’s wide temple to the throne of his Father, to whom he
commended in words of supplication, those who were to labor for
him when his earthly work should cease. We may well suppose that
the substance of his prayer was, that their thoughts, before so
groveling, and now so devotedly clinging to visions of earthly
dominion and personal aggrandizement, might “leave all meaner
things, to low ambition and the pride of kings,” and might rise, as on
that high peak, from earth towards heaven, to the just sense of the
far higher efforts and honors to which they were destined. With their
thoughts and feelings thus kindled with the holy associations of the
hour, the place and the person, their souls must have risen with his
in that solemn and earnest supplication, and their prayers for new
devotion and exaltation of spirit must have been almost equally
ardent. Probably some hours were passed in this employment,
varied perhaps by the eloquent and pointed instructions given by
Jesus, to prepare these chiefs of the apostolic band, for the full
understanding of the nature of his mission and theirs. How vastly
important to their success in their labors, and to their everlasting
happiness, must these prayers and instructions have been! The
three hearers, we may presume, gave for a long time the most
devoted attention which a scene so impressive could awaken; but
yet they were men, and weary ones too, for they had come a
considerable distance up a very steep way, and it was now late at
night,――no doubt long past their bed-time. The exercise which their
journey to the spot had given them, was of a kind for which their
previous habits of life had quite unfitted them. They were all
fishermen, and had dwelt all their lives in the low flat country on the
shores of lake Tiberias and the valley of the Jordan, where they had
nothing to do with climbing hills. And though their constant habits of
hard labor must have made them stout men in their vocation, yet we
all know that the muscles called into action by the management of
the boat and net, are very different from those which support and
advance a man in ascending acclivities. Every one that has noticed
the sturdy arms and slender legs of most sailors, has had the
practical proof, that a man may work all his life at pulling the seine
and drag-net, hauling the ropes of a vessel, and tugging at the oar,
without being thereby, in the slightest degree, fitted for labors of a
different character. The work of toiling up a very high, steep
mountain, then, was such as all their previous habits of life had
wholly unfitted them for, and their over-stretched limbs and bodies
must have been both sore and weary, so that when they came to a
resting place, they very naturally were disposed to repose, and must
have felt drowsy. In short, they fell asleep; and that too, as it would
appear, in the midst of the prayers and counsels of their adorable
Lord. And yet who, that considers all the reasons above given, can
wonder? for it is very possible for a man to feel the highest interest in
a subject offered to his consideration,――an interest, too, which may
for a long time enable a zealous mind to triumph over bodily
incapacity,――yet there is a point beyond which the most intense
energy of mind cannot drag the sinking body, when fatigue has
drained its strength, which nothing but sleep can renew. Men, when
thus worn down, will sleep in the midst of a storm, or on the eve of
certain death. In such a state were the bodies of the companions of
Jesus, and thus wearied, they slept long, in spite of the storm which
is supposed by many to have arisen, and to have been the
immediate cause of some of the striking appearances which
followed. It is said by many standard commentators, that the fairest
account of such of the incidents as are connected with natural
objects, is, that a tremendous thunder-storm came down upon the
mountain while they were asleep, and that a loud peal bursting from
this, was the immediate cause of their awaking. All the details that
are given, certainly justify the supposition. They are described as
suddenly starting from their sleep, in such a manner as would
naturally follow only from a loud noise violently arousing the
slumbering senses. Awakened thus by a peal of thunder, the first
sight that struck their amazed eyes, was their Master, resplendent
through the darkness of night and storm, with a brilliant light, that so
shone upon him and covered him, as to change his whole aspect to
a degree of glory indescribable. To add to their amazement and
dread, they saw that he was not alone, but two mysterious and
spiritual personages, announced to them as Moses and Elijah, were
now his companions, having found means to join him, though high
on the mighty rock, alone and in darkness, so inaccessible to human
approach. These two ancient servants of God now appeared by his
beloved Son, whose labors, and doctrines and triumphs were so far
to transcend theirs, and in the hearing of the three apostles, uttered
solemn words of prophecy about his approaching death, and triumph
over death. The two sons of Zebedee were so startled as to be
speechless, but the boldness and the talkativeness of Peter, always
so pre-eminent, enabled him, even here, to speak his deep awe and
reverence. Yet confused with half-awakened sleep, and stunned by
the bursting thunder, he spoke as a man thus suddenly awaked
naturally speaks, scarcely separating the thoughts of his dream, from
the objects that met his opening eye. He said “Lord, it is good for us
to be here; and if thou wilt, let us make three tabernacles, (or resting
places;) one for thee, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” These
things he said before his confused thoughts could fully arrange
themselves into words proper to express his feelings of awe, and he,
half dreaming still, hardly knew what he said. But as he uttered these
words, the dark cloud above them suddenly descended upon the
mountain’s head, inwrapping and overshadowing them, and amid the
flash of lightnings and the roar of thunders, given out in the
concussion, they distinguished, in no human voice, these awful
words, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye
him.” Who can wonder that a phenomenon so tremendous, both
morally and physically, overwhelmed their senses, and, that alarmed
beyond measure, they fell again on their faces to the earth, so
astonished that they did not dare to rise or look up, until Jesus came
to them and reassured them with his friendly touch, saying “Arise
and be not afraid.” And lifting up their eyes, they saw no man any
more, save Jesus only with themselves. The whole object of their
retirement to this solitude being now accomplished, they prepared to
return to those whom they had left to wonder at their strange
absence. It was now probably about morning; the storm was
passed,――the clouds had vanished,――the thunder was hushed,
and the cheerful sun now shone on mountain and plain, illuminating
their downward path towards the city, and inspiring their hearts with
the joyous emotions suited to their enlarged views of their Lord’s
kingdom, and their own duties. As they went down, Jesus charged
them to tell no man what things they had seen, till he, the son of
man, rose from the dead. And they kept it close, and told no man in
those days any of those things which they had seen. But they
questioned much with one another what the rising from the dead
should mean. So that it appears, that after all the repeated
assurances Jesus had given them of the certainty of this event, they
had never put any clear and definite meaning upon his words, and
were still totally in the dark as to their essential import. This proof of
their continued ignorance serves to confirm the view already taken of
the way in which they understood, or rather misunderstood, the
previous warning of the same event, in connection with his charge
and rebuke of Peter. In connection also with what they had seen on
the mountain, and the injunction of secrecy, another question arose,
why they could not be allowed to speak freely on the subject. “For if
they had now distinctly seen the prophet Elijah returned from the
other world, as it appeared, why could they not properly announce
publicly, so important and desirable an event? Else, why did the
Jewish teachers say that Elijah must first come before the Messiah?
And why, then, should they not freely offer their testimony of his
presence with Jesus on this occasion, as the most satisfactory proof
of his Messiahship?” The answer of Jesus very clearly informed
them that they were not to consider this vision as having any direct
connection with the prophecy respecting Elijah’s re-appearance, to
precede and aid the true Messiah in the establishment of the ancient
Jewish dominion; but that all that was intended in that prophecy had
been fully brought to pass in the coming of John the Baptist, who, in
the spirit and power of Elijah, had already run his bright but brief
course as the Messiah’s precursor. With such interesting
conversation they continued their course in returning towards the
city. The way in which Luke here expresses the circumstances of the
time of their return, is the last and most satisfactory proof to be
offered of the fact, that their visit to the mountain had been in the
night. His words are, “And it came to pass that on the next day, when
they came down from the mountain, a large multitude met them,” &c.
This shows that they did not go and return the same day, between
sunrise and sunset; and the only reasonable supposition left to agree
with the other circumstances, is, that they went at evening, and
returned early in the morning of the next day. After their descent,
they found that the remaining disciples had been making an
unsuccessful attempt to relieve a lunatic person, who was relieved,
however, at a word, as soon as brought to Jesus himself. They
continued no very long time in this part of Galilee, after these events,
but journeyed slowly southwards, towards the part which Jesus had
formerly made his home. This journey was made by him with
particular care to avoid public notice, and it is particularly expressed
by Mark that he went on this homeward journey through by-ways or
less public roads than usual. For as he went, he renewed the sad
warning, that he was in constant danger of being given up into the
hands of the wicked men, who feeling reproved and annoyed by his
life and doctrine, earnestly desired his death; and that soon their
malice would be for a time successful, but that after they had done
their worst, he should at last triumph over them. Still this assurance,
obvious as its meaning may now seem to us, was not understood by
them, and though they puzzled themselves extremely about it, they
evidently considered their ignorance as of a somewhat justly
blamable nature, for they dared not ask for a new explanation. This
passage still farther shows, how far they must have been from rightly
appreciating his first declaration on this subject. Having followed the
less direct routes, for these reasons, he came, (doing much good on
the journey, no doubt, in a quiet and unnoticed way, as we know he
always did,) to Capernaum, which he still regarded as his home; and
here again, as formerly, went directly to the house of Simon Peter,
which he is represented as entering on his first arrival in the city, in
such a way as to show that there was his dwelling, and a welcome
entertainment. Indeed we know of no other friend whom he had in
Capernaum, with whom he was on such terms of intimacy, and we
cannot suppose that he kept house by himself,――for his relations
had never yet removed from Nazareth.

Of the scenes of the transfiguration, so great a variety of opinions have been

entertained, that it would be impossible for me to discuss the various views within my
narrow limits. The old speculations on the subject are very fully given in Poole’s Synopsis,
and the modern ones by Kuinoel, who mentions a vast number of German writers, of whom
few of us have ever seen even the names elsewhere.

The view which I have taken is not peculiar to me, but is supported by many high
authorities, and is in accordance with what seemed to me the simplest and fairest
construction which could be put upon the facts, after a very full and minute consideration of
the various circumstances, chronologically, topographically and grammatically. It should be
noticed that my arrangement of the facts in reference to the time of day, is this. Jesus and
the three disciples ascended the mountain in the evening, about sunset, remained there all
night during a thunder-storm, and returned the next morning.

the tribute money.

On the occasion of his return and entrance into Peter’s house, a

new instance occurred both of his wisdom and his special regard for
this apostle. Some of those who went about legally authorized to
collect the tax due from all conforming Jews, to defray the expenses
of the temple-worship at Jerusalem, appear to have been waiting for
Christ’s return from this journey, to call on him for his share, if he
were willing to pay it as a good Jew. They seem to have had some
doubts, however, as to the manner in which so eminent a teacher
would receive a call to pay those taxes, from which he might perhaps
deem himself exempted by his religious rank, more especially as he
had frequently denounced, in the most unmeasured terms, all those
concerned in the administration of the religious affairs of the Jewish
nation. As soon as he had returned, therefore, they took the
precaution to make the inquiry of Peter, as the well-known intimate of
Jesus, “Doth not your Master pay tribute?” Peter, knowing well the
steady, open reverence which Jesus always manifested for all the
established usages of his country, readily and unhesitatingly
answered “Yes.” And when he was come into the house, and was
upon the point of proposing the matter to him, Jesus anticipated him,
saying, “How thinkest thou, Simon? of whom do the kings of the
earth take custom or tribute? of their own children, or of the children
of others?” Peter says, “From others’ children.” Jesus says again to
him, “Then are the children free.” That is: “If, when the kings and
rulers of the nations gather their taxes, for the support of their royal
state and authority, they pass over their own children untaxed, as a
thing of course, then I, the son of that God who is the eternal king of
Israel, am fairly exempt from the payment of the sum due from other
Jews, for the support of the ceremonials of my Father’s temple in
Jerusalem.” Still he did not choose to avail himself of this honorable
pretext, but went on to tell Simon, “Nevertheless, lest we should give
needless occasion for offense, we will pay what they exact; and for
this purpose, go thou to the sea, and take up the fish that comes up
first; and when thou hast opened his mouth, thou shalt find a piece of
money; take that and give it them for me and thee.”

Anticipated him.――This word I substitute in the place of “prevented” which is the

expression used in our common English Bible, and which in the changes of modern usage
has entirely lost the signification which it had when the translators applied it to this passage.
The Greek word here is προεφθασεν, (proephthasen,) and literally means “forespake” or
“spake before” him. This was the idea which the English translators wished to express by
the word “prevented,” whose true original meaning is “anticipated,” or “was beforehand with
him,” being in Latin compounded of the words prae, “before,” and venio, “come.” Among the
numerous conveniences of Webster’s improved edition of the Bible, for popular use, is the
fact that in this and similar passages he has altered the obsolete expression, and changed it
for a modern one, which is just and faithful to the original idea. In this passage I find he has
very properly given the word above suggested, without my knowledge of the coincidence.

Of the children of others.――This expression too is a variation from the common English
translation, which here expresses itself so vaguely, that a common reader can get no just
idea whatever of the passage, and is utterly unable to find the point of the allusion. The
Greek word is αλλοτριων, (allotrion,) which is simply the genitive plural of an adjective, which
means “of, or belonging to others,” and is secondarily applied also to “strangers, foreigners,”
&c., as persons “belonging to other lands;” but the primary meaning is absolutely necessary
to be given here, in order to do justice to the sense, since the idea is not that they take
tribute money of foreigners rather than of their own subjects; but of their subjects rather
than of their own children, who are to enjoy the benefit of the taxation.

A piece of money.――The term thus vaguely rendered, is in Greek στατηρ, (stater,)

which was a coin of definite value, being worth among the Jews about four attic drachms,
and exactly equivalent to their shekel, a little more than half a dollar of federal money. The
tax here paid was the half-shekel tax, due from every Jew for the service of the temple, so
that the “piece of money,” being one shekel, was just sufficient to pay for both Jesus and
Peter. The word translated “the tribute money” (in verse 24) is equally definite in the
Greek,――διδραχμον, (didrachmon,) equivalent to the Jewish half-shekel, and being itself
worth half a stater. The stater, however, as a name for Attic and Byzantine gold coins, was
equivalent to twenty or thirty times the value of the shekel. (See Stephens’s Thesaurus,
Donnegan’s, Jones’s and Pickering’s Lexicons.) On this passage see Hammond’s
Annotations, which are here quite full on values. See too, Lightfoot’s Horae Hebraica on
Matthew xvii. 25. Macknight’s Paraphrase, Poole and Kuinoel, for a very full account of the
matter. Also my note on page 32.

There have been two different accounts of this little circumstance among commentators,
some considering the tribute money to have been a Roman tax, and others taking the
ground which I do, that it was the Jewish tax for the expenses of the temple-worship. The
reasons may be found at great length, in some of the authorities just quoted; and it may be
remarked that the point of the allusion in Jesus’s question to Peter, is all lost on the
supposition of a Roman tax; for how could Jesus claim exemption as a son of the Roman
emperor, as he justly could from the Jewish tax for the service of the heavenly king, his
Father? The correspondence of values too, with the half-shekel tax, is another reason for
adopting that view; nor is there any objection to it, except the circumstance, that the time at
which this tax is supposed to have been demanded, does not agree with that to which the
collection of the temple-tax was limited. (Exodus xxx. 13, and Lightfoot on Matthew xvii. 24.)

the question of superiority.

Soon after the last mentioned event, there arose a discussion

among the apostles, as to who should have the highest rank in the
administration of the government of the Messiah’s kingdom, when it
should be finally triumphantly established. The question shows how
pitiably deficient they still were, in a proper understanding of the
nature of the cause to which they were devoted; but the details of
this circumstance may be deferred to a more appropriate place,
under the lives of the persons, who, by their claims, afterwards
originated a similar discussion, in connection with which this may be
most properly mentioned. However, it cannot be amiss to remark
here, that the very fact of such a discussion having arisen, shows,
that no one supposed that, from the peculiar distinctions already
conferred on Peter, he was entitled to the assumption of anything
like power over the rest of the twelve, or that anything else than a
peculiar regard of Christ for him, and a confidence in his zeal and
ability to advance the great cause, was expressed in his late
honorable and affectionate declaration to him. The occurrence of this
discussion is also a high and satisfactory proof of Peter’s modest
and unassuming disposition; for had he maintained among the
apostles the authority and rank which his Master’s decided
preference might seem to warrant, these high pretensions of the
sons of Zebedee would not have been thus put forward against one
so secure in Christ’s favor by high talents, and long habits of close
intimacy.

the rule of brotherly forbearance.

The next occasion on which the name of Peter is mentioned in the

gospels, is his asking Jesus, “how many times he should forgive an
offending brother? If the brother should repeat the offense seven
times, should he each time accord him the forgiveness asked?” This
question was suggested to Peter’s mind, by the rules which Christ
had just been giving his disciples, for the preservation of harmony,
and for the redress of mutual grievances among them. His charge to
them on this subject, injoined the repeated exercise of forbearance
towards a brother who had trespassed, and urged the surrender of
every imagined right of private redress, to the authority and sanction
of the common assembly of the apostles. The absolute necessity of
some such rule, for the very existence of the apostles’ union, was
plain enough. They were men, with all the passions and frailties of
common, uneducated men, and with all the peculiar, fervid energy,
which characterizes the physiology of the races of south-western
Asia. From the constant attrition of such materials, no doubt
individually discordant in temperament and constitution, how could it
be hoped, that in the common course of things, there would not arise
frequent bursts of human passion, to mar or hinder the divine work
which brought them together? With a most wise providence for these
liabilities to disagreement, Jesus had just arranged a principle of
reference and quiet decision, in all cases of dispute in which the
bond of Christian fellowship would be strained or broken. His charge
to them, all and each, was this: “If thy brother shall trespass against
thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone. If he shall
hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother; but if he will not hear thee,
take with thee on thy second call, one or two more, that, according to
the standard forms of the Mosaic law, by the mouth of two or three
witnesses every word may be established. And if he shall refuse to
hear them, tell it at last to the common assembly of the apostles; and
after they have given their decision in favor of the justice of the
complaint and demand, if he still maintain his enmity and wrong
against thee, thou art no longer held by the apostolic pledge to treat
him with brotherly regard; but having slighted all friendly advice, and
the common sentiment of the brethren, he has lost the privilege of
their fellowship, and must be to thee as one of the low world around
him――a heathen and an outcast Jew.” On this occasion, also, he
renewed to them all, the commission to bind and loose, which he
had before particularly delivered only to Peter. As he had, in
speaking of the treatment, made abundant requisitions for the
exercise of forbearance, without mentioning the proper limit to these
acts of forgiveness, Peter now put his question: “If my brother sin
against me seven times, and as often make the reparation which I
may honestly ask, shall I continue to forgive him?” That is, “Shall I
not seem, by these repeated acts of forbearance, at last to be
offering him inducements to offend against one so placable? And if
these transgressions are thus enormously multiplied, will it not be
right that I should withhold the kind consideration which is made of
so little account?” The answer of Jesus is, “I say to thee, not merely
till seven times, but till seventy times seven.” That is, “To your
forbearance towards an erring and returning Christian brother, there
should be no limit but his own obstinate adhesion to his error. In
coming out from the world to follow me, you have given up your
natural rights to avenge, either legally or personally, those injuries
which pass the bounds of common forbearance. The preservation of
perfect harmony in the new community to which you have joined
yourself, is of so much importance to the triumphant advancement of
our cause, as to require justly all these sacrifices of personal ill-will.”
With his usual readiness in securing an abiding remembrance of his
great leading rules of action, Jesus, on this occasion, concluded the
subject with illustrating the principle, by a beautiful parable or story; a
mode of instruction, far more impressive to the glowing imagination
of the oriental, than of the more calculating genius of colder races.

This inquiry may have been suggested to Peter by a remark made by Christ, which is
not given by Matthew as by Luke, (xvii. 4.) “If he sin against thee seven times in a day, and
seven times turn again, &c. thou shalt forgive him.” So Maldorat suggests, but it is certainly
very hard to bring these two accounts to a minute harmony, and I should much prefer to
consider Luke as having given a general statement of Christ’s doctrine, without referring to
the occasion or circumstances, while Matthew has given a more distinct account of the
whole matter. The discrepancy between the two accounts has seemed so great, that the
French harmonists, Newcome, LeClerc, Macknight, Thirlwall, and Bloomfield, consider them
as referring to totally different occasions,――that in Matthew occurring in Capernaum, but
that in Luke, after his journey to Jerusalem to the feast of the tabernacles. But the utter
absence of all chronological order in the greater part of Luke’s gospel, is enough to make us
suspect, that the event he alludes to may coincide with that of Matthew’s story, since the
amount of the precept, and the general form of expression, is the same in both cases. This
is the view taken by Rosenmueller, Kuinoel, Vater, Clarke, Paulus, and which seems to be
further justified by the consideration, that the repetition of the precept must have been
entirely unnecessary, after having been so clearly laid down, and so fully re-examined in
answer to Peter’s inquiry, as given by Matthew.
 Seven times.――This number was a general expression among the Hebrews for a
frequent repetition, and was perfectly vague and indefinite as to the number of repetitions,
as is shown in many instances in the Bible where it occurs. Seventy times seven, was
another expression of the recurrences carried to a superlative number, and is also a
standard Hebraism, (as in Genesis iv. 24.) See Poole, Lightfoot, Clarke, Scott, and other
commentators, for Rabbinical illustrations of these phrases.

A heathen and an outcast.――This latter expression I have chosen, as giving best the
full force of the name publican, which designated a class of men among the Jews, who
were considered by all around them as having renounced national pride, honor and religion,
for the base purpose of worldly gain; serving under the Roman government as tax-
gatherers, that is, hiring the taxes of a district, which they took by paying the government a
definite sum, calculating to make a rich profit on the bargain by systematic extortion and
oppression. The name, therefore, was nearly synonymous with the modern word
renegade,――one who, for base motives, has renounced the creed and customs of his
fathers.

the journey to jerusalem.

The occurrence which occasioned this discussion, took place at

Capernaum, where Jesus seems to have resided with his apostles
for some time after his northern tour to Caesarea Philippi, giving
them, as opportunity suggested, a great number and variety of
practical instructions. At length he started with them, on his last
journey to Jerusalem, the only one which is recorded by the first
three evangelists, although John gives us accounts of three previous
visits to the Jewish capital. On this journey, while he was passing on
to Jerusalem, by a somewhat circuitous course, through that portion
of Judea which lies east of the Jordan, he had taken occasion to
remark, (in connection with the disappointment of the rich young
man, who could not give up his wealth for the sake of the gospel,)
how hard it was for those that had riches, and put their trust in them,
to join heartily in the promotion of the cause of Christ, or share in the
honors of its success. Peter, then, speaking for himself and the
faithful few who had followed Jesus thus far through many trials, to
the risk and loss of much worldly profit, reminded Jesus of what they
had given up for his sake. “Behold, we have forsaken all, and
followed thee. What shall we have therefore?” The solemn and
generous assurance of Jesus, in reply, was, that those who had
followed him thus, should, in the final establishment of his kingdom,
when he should receive the glories of his triumph, share in the
highest gifts which he, conqueror of all, could bestow. Then, those
who had forsaken kindred and lands for his sake, should find all
these sacrifices made up to them, in the enjoyment of rewards
incalculably beyond those earthly comforts in value.

This conversation took place, just about as they were passing the
Jordan, into the western section of Judea, near the spot where
Joshua and the Israelitish host of old passed over to the conquest of
Canaan. A little before they reached Jericho, Jesus took a private
opportunity to renew to the twelve his oft repeated warning of the
awful events, now soon to happen after his entry into Jerusalem.
“Behold, we go up to Jerusalem; and the Son of Man shall be
betrayed to the chief priests and to the scribes, and they shall
condemn him to death. And they shall deliver him to the heathen, to
mock, and to scourge, and to crucify him; and the third day, he shall
rise again.” Yet, distinct as was this declaration, and full as the
prediction was in these shocking particulars, Luke assures us, that
“they understood none of these things; and this saying was hid from
them; neither knew they the things which were spoken.” Now, we
cannot easily suppose that they believed that he, to whom they had
so heartily and confidently devoted their lives and fortunes, was
trying their feelings by an unnecessary fiction, so painful in its
details. The only just supposition which we can make, then, is that
they explained all these predictions to themselves, in a way best
accordant with their own notions of the kingdom which the Messiah
was to found, and on the hope of whose success they had staked all.
The account of his betrayal, ill-treatment, and disgraceful death, they
could not literally interpret, as the real doom which awaited their
glorious and mighty Lord; it could only mean, to them, that for a brief
space, the foes of the Son of God were to gain a seeming triumph
over the hosts that were to march against Jerusalem, to seat him on
the throne of David. The traitorous heads of the Jewish faith, the
members of the great Sanhedrim, the hypocritical Pharisees, and the
lying, avaricious lawyers, would, through cowardice, selfishness,
envy, jealousy, or some other meanness, basely conspire to support
their compound tyranny, by attempting to crush the head of the new
faith, with the help of their Roman masters, whom they would
summon to the aid of their falling power. This unpatriotic and
treacherous effort would for a time seem to be perfectly successful,
but only long enough for the traitors to fill up the measure of their
iniquities. Then, vain would be the combined efforts of priest and
soldier,――of Jewish and of Roman power. Rising upon them, like
life from the dead, the Son of God should burst forth in the might of
his Father,――he should be revealed from heaven with ten thousand
angels, and recalling his scattered friends, who might have been for
a moment borne down before the iron hosts of Rome, he should
sweep every foreign master, and every domestic religious tyrant,
from Israel’s heritage, setting up a throne, whose sway should
spread to the uttermost parts of the earth, displacing even the deep-
rooted hold of Roman power. What then, would be the fate of the
faithful Galileans, who, though few and feeble, had stood by him
through evil and good report, risking all on his success? When the
grinding tyranny of the old Sanhedrim had been overthrown, and
chief priests, scribes, Pharisees, lawyers, and all, displaced from the
administration, the chosen ones of his own early adoption, his
countrymen, and intimate companions for years, would be rewarded,
sitting on twelve thrones, judging the ransomed and victorious twelve
tribes of Israel. Could they doubt their Lord’s ability for this glorious,
this miraculous ♦achievement? Had they not seen him maintain his
claim for authority over the elements, over diseases, over the dark
agencies of the demoniac powers, and over the mighty bonds of
death itself? And could not the same power achieve the still less
wonderful victory over the opposition of these unworthy foes? It was
natural, then, that, with the long cherished hopes of these dazzling
triumphs in their minds, the twelve apostles, though so often and so
fully warned of approaching evils, should thus unsuspectingly persist
in their mistake, giving every terrible word of Jesus such a turn as
would best confirm their baseless hopes. Even Peter, already sternly
rebuked for his forward effort to exalt the ambition of Jesus, above
even the temporary disgrace which he seemed to foreordain for
himself,――and so favored with the private instructions and
counsels of his master, thus erred,――even James and John, also
sharers in the high confidence and favor of Jesus, though thus
favored and taught, were immediately after brought under his
deserved censure for their presumptuous claims for the ascendency,
which so moved the wrath of the jealous apostles, who were all alike
involved in this monstrous and palpable misconception. Nor yet can
we justly wonder at the infatuation to which they were thus blindly
given up, knowing as we do, that, in countless instances, similar
error has been committed on similar subjects, by men similarly
influenced. What Biblical commentary, interpretation, introduction,
harmony, or criticism, from the earliest Christian or Rabbinic fathers,
to the theological schemer of the latest octavo, does not bear sad
witness on its pages, to the wonderful infatuation which can force
upon the plainest and clearest declaration, a version elaborately
figurative or painfully literal, just as may most comfortably cherish
and confirm a doctrine, or notion, or prejudice, which the writer would
fain “add to the things which are written in the book?” Can it be
reasonably hoped, then, that this untaught effort to draw out the
historical truth of the gospel, will be an exception to this harshly true
judgment on the good, the learned, and the critical of past ages?

♦ “achievment” replaced with “achievement”

the entry into the city.

With these fruitless admonitions to his followers, Jesus passed on

through Jericho to Bethphage, on the verge of the holy city. Here, the
enthusiastic and triumphant rejoicings, which the presence of their
Master called forth, from the multitudes who were then swarming to
Jerusalem from all parts of Palestine, must have lifted up the hearts
of the apostles, with high assurance of the nearness of the honors
for which they had so long looked and waited. Their irrepressible joy
and exultation burst out in songs of triumph, as Jesus, after the
manner of the ancient judges of Israel, rode into the royal seat of his
fathers. And as he went down the descent of the Mount of Olives, to
go into the city, the whole train of the disciples began to rejoice and