Jeremiah 26

Jeremiah was tired; he could see the sun reflected off the brown stones, as he climbed his way to the courtyard. The smell of roast lamb assailed his nostrils, mingled with rosewater and sweat. He licked his lips, trying not to imagine the feel of her mouth, or the touch of her thighs.

"This city will be like Shiloh, a curse upon the lips of those who pass her by."

He felt a hand on his shoulder; golden bangles and a hint of rosemary. "You lie."

The hiss grew louder; a mob of men, robed in their finest linen, came slithering towards him.

"What's all the commotion?"

It was the same priest Jeremiah had seen by the fig tree the night before - their eyes met for a moment.

"This man claims Jerusalem will become like Shiloh."

"Indeed? That is a serious charge - let me summon the sires of Judah. After all, we want to make sure justice in this case is - satisfied." His smirked.

Jeremiah considered running, but the pressure of the man's hand on his shoulder convinced him not to.

"Let us hear."

The three sires of Judah wore robes of crimson and scarlet;their beards showed evidence of frequent trips to the barbers.

"God has sent me: Better your ways, harken to His voice, and He will repent of the evil that He has declared against you. As for me, I am in your hands, but know this: If you kill me, you spill clean blood."

He could see them whispering to each other. The people stood still, silent. Jeremiah was reminded of Yom Kippur, when the masses would wordlessly wait to find out their verdict, written in the face of the High Priest when he emerged from the Kadosh Hakodashim.

"A man prophecied against Jerusalem in the days of Hezekiah. Thanks to him, men mended their ways, and we were saved. Yet a man prophecied the same thing in the days of Yehoyakim, and the king sent assasins to Egypt to ensure the punishment of the wrong-doer."

The people breathed. He could feel their screams; the ground was trembling beneath him.

A different hand on his shoulder; the smell of mint and cedar. A cloak thrown over his shoulders, sheilding his eyes. He let himself be guided; the blue wool felt warm against his cheek, and he longed for water. He continued downward, guided by the palm of a stranger.

When the cloak was off, Jeremiah found himself looking into a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

"Thank you", he said, but by the time the words were out of his mouth, the man had already turned the corner, his cloak a blue pile tucked beneath his right arm. Jeremiah watched the receding figure, until he could see it no more.