(AN: Fun fun fun, the cat is almost out of the bag for this chapter. Hard to conceal what's happening. lol)
(As far as Peter being sore, well, consider than an angel touched Jacob Ben-Isaac and dislocated his hip. Sore is the least that Peter has to worry about, since Acts says that the angel struck him. Though, I personally think, with the responsibility of that kind of power, the angel did touch him and it felt like he hit him. Just my two cents.)
The Great Escape
"My heart goes out to John," Paul said. "I fear he will never see his brother again until the Kingdom."
The others grumbled a low, morose "amen". Barnabas held his head down, while many of the others in the room were either sobbing or quietly praying. After a length of silence had been given for James Bar-Zebedee, Miriam, John Mark's mother, spoke up.
"When we heard that Peter was imprisoned," she said. "We all gathered here and spent the Passover in prayer, from sunrise to sunset. Then, on the eve of the last day, the most amazing thing happened!"
"What?" Paul asked.
Miriam blushed, then turned to Peter. "I think you should tell them."
He nodded, then began. "Herod's plan was to have me executed on the day after the Passover. I spent night after night in that prison cell, praying or sleeping. I had four companies of Herod's soldiers to guard me." He laughed. "Imagine, so many soldiers over one old fisherman from Galilee."
"You're more than that," John Mark said. "You're our leader. Herod knew it would be a fierce blow to the believers if you were captured."
"And an even worse one for himself if I were to escape." Peter returned.
"Wake up!" a voice spoke.
Peter's eyes slowly opened, and he moved his arms about: his left shoulder ached a little. The clank of chains did not sound in his ears, and he looked upon himself: that was when he realized that there were no more chains on his wrists or ankles.
"Gird your loins, Peter," the voice said again. "And put on your sandals."
Slowly rising up, Peter saw that he was no longer bound and that the guards were sleeping at their posts.
"What manner of dream is this?" Peter murmured to himself as he put on his sandals.
"Put your cloak on," the voice said. "Then follow me."
Turning to where he heard the voice, Peter saw a sight that took his breath away. A figure, clothed in white and shining armor, with two great wings, stood beside him. All the torches in the dungeon were out or dimmed, and the only source of light was from this being.
"Follow," Raphael repeated.
Peter brought himself up to his feet, then turned to the angel, who merely looked at the prison door. In response it swung open, creaking loud enough to wake the dead. Yet the guards that stood patrol here were not so much as roused from their slumber.
"Impossible!" Peter breathed.
The angel walked forward down the prison hall, and Peter followed after. He saw, slouching at every corner, every member of his prison guard: yet they were all asleep. In the silence of the night, their footsteps sounded as loud as the Sabbath shofar. Yet, for all the noise that might be made, the guards did not so much as stir from where they slept. Now they crossed the long, narrow hall, with cells on each side, until they came to the stairs that led up from the prison into the side of the courtyard of Herod's Jerusalem palace. At it's exit was a door, held fast with bars of thick wood and iron: it opened before them just as the prison door had done beforehand.
Into the empty courtyard of the palace Peter and the angel now walked. Every moment Peter dreaded that he would stub his toe, or be struck by one of his guards, and the dream would fade away forever. This seemed too good to be true: he had been ready for death. The brash fisherman of Galilee would not be asleep on the day before his execution, as he had been: the Peter that now walked in the courtyard filled with shadows was a changed man. Even so, he feared that this wonderful dream would end all too soon.
But there was no resistance. They passed through the courtyard of Herod like shadows. At last they came to the great gate that separated the courtyard of Herod's palace from the rest of the city. It took six strong men to pry this heavy door made of iron opened as people passed in and out day by day. Would this be where his dreaming would end, Peter thought. But what was the purpose? Why would he be lead this far only to be...?
The door quivered for a moment, then began to slide forward slowly. Peter looked here and there, but the angel did not even lay its hands on the great iron door and there were no other hands pushing it open. This couldn't be real...could it?
Behind them the door slammed shut and Peter felt the cool of the night air on his face, heard the sounds of the sleeping city, and realized that the angel was gone, and so was the prison. Out of sheer curiosity, he pulled a piece of his skin together with two fingers. Wincing from the pain, a smile crept across his face.
"Praise HaShem for this miraculous salvation!" he cried out into the night.
"What an incredible rescue!" Paul exclaimed.
"Yes, it was," Peter returned.
"Needless to say," Miriam added. "We were all shocked when we heard about it. Peter came back here first thing, and poor Rhoda was so surprised to hear him at the door that she ran back and told us, leaving him hanging at the door."
"I'm sorry to say," Matthew said. "That none of us believed her. Even when she said she heard Peter's voice, we said it was an angel who was sent to guard Peter."
"After quite a bit of persuasion," Miriam returned. "We finally walked out and brought Peter in."
"They told me straight away," James, Joshua's brother, stated. "We had to take Peter out of the city."
"Why?" Barnabas asked.
"In the morning," John Mark stated. "Herod was hardly pleased. He put four companies of soldiers to death then returned to his palace in Caesarea."
"How is that just?" Paul asked. "They were overcome by the power of HaShem."
"They weren't the only ones," Matthew said.
"What do you mean?" Barnabas asked.
"Not but a few days ago," he said. "I received word from our friends in Caesarea. Herod is dead."
All were surprised at this news. Even those in the house, James and Peter and the others, knew not of this new revelation.
"Apparently," Matthew continued. "He was having a banquet to make some treaty with the provinces of Tyre and Sidon. Half-way through the festivities, he got up and started reciting some long-winded speech or something. Somebody shouts: 'Behold, the voice of God!' All those sycophantic toadies chimed in, Herod was just basking in their praises, then he fell down and started writhing and screaming out. As far as our sources know, he was eaten alive by maggots."
Everyone seemed to be quite revolted by this revelation. Needless to say, it put most of them off their appetite.
That evening, all were trying to sleep. Two, however, were no longer sleeping. Matthew, with a small candle at his side at the table, was slaving away with his writing. John Mark had helped him for a while, but after Matthew, for the hundredth time, complained about the lack of the Torah, he decided that there wouldn't be much else he could do to help him and so attempted to go to sleep. This did not happen and so he sought out Paul.
"Paul," he whispered, nudging the stout Pharisee on the shoulder. He stirred slowly from his sleep.
"How long are you going to be staying here?" he asked.
"Not very long," Paul said. "We return to Antioch tomorrow."
"And then?"
"Wherever the Ruach HaKodesh may lead," Paul sighed. "Get some sleep, young man."
"I want to go with you." he said.
Paul rolled over and looked at John Mark sincerely. "Are you sure of this?"
"Yes," he nodded. "I want to spread the good news of Joshua, just as we were commissioned."
"That is the greatest calling," Paul said. After a while, he reached into his robes and pulled out a large object wrapped in a cloth. "As long as you're up, give this to Matthew. I feel that he might need it."
John Mark nodded, then left Paul to sleep and crossed the floor to where Matthew was slaving away over his work.
"I hear the voice of the Ruach HaKodesh," Matthew murmured to himself. "As though an angel of HaShem sat at my side, and whispered into my ears things I had forgotten about Joshua or about the Torah. If only I had it in my hands and could quote directly from it!"
"Matthew?" John Mark spoke up.
"Yes, what is it?" the ex-publican queried.
"Paul wanted you to have this," John Mark stated, handing him the copy of the Torah. Matthew was almost to tears as he looked upon this present, a gift from HaShem if ever there was one.
(AN: Yay! Matthew's got the Torah and can put down all his little "that it might be fulfilled..." portions of his gospel. That was what I have been getting at, as far back as Joshua, where he keeps interrupting people with his restating of the prophets and their individual fulfillment.)