I, Judas Read online

  “You are drunk,” I cried.

  Solomon wiped his evil mouth with a grimy hand. “What other way can we woo oblivion? For life, kind sir, is not the same for the rich as the humble.”

  “Yes,” said the tanner, “common sense tells us that our lives lead but to a pauper’s grave. For some this comes sooner than others. The carcass is laid in the cold earth, and in a few days, Adam the Tanner is not even a cherished memory. None cared that he was born, and none shall care that he dies.”

  Solomon brought a large mug to his mouth. “I’ll drink to that, for one and all.” He lofted the vessel over his head. “And to you, too, kind sir, I wish you a hearty burial as well.”

  My disgust turned to loathing. No wonder some Pharisees considered it a good deed to knife an Amharetzin on sight, or at least cast their spittle on his face.

  “What would the Messiah want with such as you?” I said with contempt. “I came to see what kind of men you are, and I find drunkards who make no sense.”

  Adam the Tanner stood up.

  “We are not drunken sots,” he said. “We have a few drinks and have some fun, for otherwise we would cry out in self-pity in our misery and fear. We cannot believe in the God of Annas and Caiaphas, for no man can buy the true God with petty sacrifices of animals and money.” He touched my hand. “Forgive us our sport, for we mean no harm and only laugh in truth at ourselves.”

  I was impressed by his apology and accepted it in good grace. He had a surprising dignity at times for a tanner.

  “So you are ready to do the bidding of the Messiah?”

  “If he is the Messiah,” said the tanner, “we are ready to sit at his feet and listen.”

  I gave them an appraising look. They were as ugly a band of cutthroats as ever I saw.

  “Would you take up arms in his behalf?”

  They looked back at me silently.

  “Why then look for a Messiah if you will not follow him?”

  “By what he does we will know him for what he is,” said the tanner.

  “You cannot put your own construction on his aims. If he is the Messiah, he is the Deliverer and so must deliver us against our enemy.”

  Adam looked at me roguishly.

  “And who might that be?”

  I gestured impatiently. “The Romans of course. You know that as well as I.”

  His slightly mocking expression did not change. “We have more than one enemy.”

  “And so do the Zealots, the Temple priests who traffic with the Romans, and Rome itself, the greatest predator of all. Does not your blood rise when you see your women dallying with the red-cloaked soldiers in the streets and taverns of Jerusalem?”

  Adam smirked. “Our women don’t go off with the Romans. We take care of them, don’t we, mates?”

  This touched off another gale of laughter.

  “If laughter is your response to fear,” I said, “you people must live in constant terror.”

  Adam’s red-flecked eyes instantly became solemn. “We do, sir, for we have no education and do not understand the actions of the planets upon this earth.” He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “We understand on good authority that we are coming to an end of the world, with the finish of the Age of Aries and the onset of Pisces.”

  I had no stomach for astrology, pure rubbish with which the illiterate amused themselves.

  “Is this why the Baptist’s followers carry aloft the sign of the twin fishes?”

  “It is an evil portent, for in this sign, they say, with the death of the Emperor Tiberius the very heavens will be rent, and the earth broken, and fire and flood will sweep the world as in Noah’s time.”

  “Don’t you know,” I snorted, “that Tiberius is a divinity, just as Augustus was before him, and divinities live forever?”

  “It is no laughing matter,” said the tanner, “for Tiberius could die suddenly and violently at any time, from what is known of the wicked Sejanus.”

  “If you, a tanner in Jerusalem, are aware of these conspiracies, then certainly the Emperor knows of them as well.”

  He held out his arms in a gesture of helplessness. “The eagle is not always mindful of the hawk.”

  “And what,” I asked, “has the Messiah to do with all this?”

  He thought for a moment. “If he is the one, he will bring us God’s word, and that is all we ask.”

  “And this is all you require to offset your fears.”

  He held up a dirty finger and blew his foul breath into my face.

  “Is it not true, sir, that God created heaven and earth, and so can dispose of it as he likes?”

  His companions had looked up with evil grins.

  “I do not know what God proposes.”

  “True.” There was a gleam in the bloodshot eyes. “But the Messiah will know, for he will be our King, and there is nothing that God knows that will not be passed on to him.”

  “And if this paragon, who speaks for God, speaks then of war against Rome, what have you?”

  I could see him wiggling for a reply.

  “Whatever,” he said softly, “that God wills.”

  I had the feeling they were as pleased to see me go as I was to leave. Nevertheless, it was time well spent, for I knew that these people could not be counted on in any uprising unless it was behind a Messiah of their own choosing.

  I elected to spend the night among the Essenes and not seek out the Zealots or Pharisees, for anonymity suited me at this time. I wanted only to observe and bide my time. The Baptist had indicated the Promised One would arrive soon. How soon was that?

  And so, in my pilgrim’s habit, I sought out the Baptist as he rested after the evening meal in his hillside camp overlooking the Jordan. His phalanx of Essenes predictably tried to block me off, but he waved them aside.

  “Speak to me, Judah,” he said.

  He laughed at my surprise. “Know you not, Judah, that you cannot hide anything from the eyes of God?”

  “Then you call yourself God?”

  “I speak for God at this time, as you shall at another.”

  He looked at me with eyes that seemed to hold a certain sorrow.

  “Why speak you like this?”

  “So that you will know that you are an instrument of divine will.”

  I responded to a sudden impulse.

  “Would you cleanse me of sin?”

  He shook his head. ‘That is not for me, but another.”

  “But you baptized all who were penitent before God.”

  “I baptize only in water, and you, Judah, shall be baptized in fire and blood.”

  My heart leaped at the thought, for what could this be but the baptismal of battle?

  “Shall the Messiah then come and lead Israel in triumph over Rome?”

  His eyes glowed with a faraway look. “Such a triumph, Judah, as you would never fancy in your fondest dreams. For he shall preside at the seat of their Empire, and they shall humble themselves in his name.”

  My heart sang with joy, for there was no doubt that he was a prophet and spoke with a prophet’s vision.

  “And how soon will he be here?”

  His disciples, including the giant Ahiram, had been staring bale-fully at me, but he again wagged them away.

  The sun had just cast its purple shadow over the mountain wilderness.

  “Before another sunset he will come. That I promise.”

  Chapter Four

  JESUS

  A SOLITARY FIGURE came slowly over the rise. His arms were swinging evenly, and he moved with a determined stride. There were a handful of pilgrims on the highway from Jericho, but the lone wanderer cut across the desert sands and scrub and headed in a beeline for the ford where the Baptist stood waiting, his eyes on the horizon.

  A murmur spread through the crowd, and even as I felt my own pulse leap I wondered why we were all so sure that it was he.

  I had struck up a conversation with Levi the Publican, who seemed well acquainted with whatever went o
n in camp.

  “If this man is the Messiah,” I said, “then it surely cannot be John.”

  His eyes, like mine, were straining after the approaching figure.

  “It is not John. Isaiah told us what to expect. He will be as gentle as a lamb and as brave as a lion.”

  “Not in speech at any rate,” Levi agreed.

  I had reservations about Levi. He had impressed the Baptist, but whatever there was in his character that had made him a servant of Rome was still there.

  “Why do you wait?” I asked.

  He gave me a cool look. “For the same reason as yourself.”

  “A tax collector for Rome hardly qualifies for the reception committee for the Son of David.”

  “You did not mark well what the Baptist said.”

  “He who is not for us is against us.”

  A curtain dropped suddenly over his eyes. “I hoped to make you my friend, but you speak like a Zealot.”

  “And you still smack of Rome.”

  “If that were true I would not be here.”

  I acknowledged grudgingly that there was something in what he said. “But Sadoc is also here, is he not?”

  His tone became more conciliatory. “We both live with the same hope. Let us not quarrel.”

  The oncoming man looked neither to right nor to left. As he drew closer I could see that he was plainly clad in an old robe and hood. He walked barefoot, carrying his sandals in his hand. I could see the heavy yellow dust in his clothing and hair, for his hood had fallen back on his shoulders.

  John had advanced a little distance ahead of the rest to be the first to greet the stranger. As he saw John his stride quickened and he seemed to radiate light.

  As his features now came into alignment I was aware of Levi’s sharp intake of breath, even as I felt a shock wave of my own. Isaiah had said he would not be comely, but he was beyond comeliness, for his beauty was not of his features. There was an aura almost like a halo that seemed to envelop him and herald his imminence. It dazzled me to look directly into his eyes. Their blueness held my own like a magnet, and I could not have moved at that moment to save my soul.

  It is difficult to do him justice, for even when I mention how tall he is, and how beautifully formed in his coarse robe, I have not described his presence. His steady blue gaze was encompassing, not seeming to vary a shade in expression, nor did the sharp planes of his golden brown face soften for a moment. And yet there was an indescribable impression of sternness, compassion, love, and resolve without any effort on his part. His face seemed to soften only as he leaned forward and kissed John.

  They stood off for a moment, regarding each other quietly.

  John’s face had an ethereal look, as if, confronted by a vision, he took on some of its quality.

  “Behold,” he cried, “the Lamb of God, who shall take away the sins of the world. For as he walked toward me I saw the spirit descending from heaven like a bird, and it dwelt in him. And so was I told that this would be he that came after me but would take precedence because he baptized with the Holy Ghost while I baptized with water.”

  “You knew me not until then,” said the stranger, “but I have heard of you often and so knew your works.”

  “I knew only that you should be made manifest to Israel and that your ministry would endure long after Rome is gone.”

  Suddenly, as they kept gazing at one another, a glint came into the Baptist’s eyes and his stem face broke into a smile.

  “I know who men say you are and am honored that we are of the same blood on this earth.”

  “Yes,” said the stranger, “I am Judean like you, bred from birth in the same tradition, and born like you to fulfill the ancient prophecy.”

  For a moment a shadow crossed the Baptist’s face. He spoke in a low voice. “We must make haste, for the time grows short.”

  “There will be enough time for what I do.”

  The Baptist’s voice throbbed with emotion. “Did you know it would be me?” It almost seemed as if he wanted some assurance of his mission.

  “My mother,” said the stranger, “spoke of you, and so I knew what to expect.”

  His voice had a surprising resonance and was soothing at the same time. It was the voice of one born to lead.

  “And my mother,” said the Baptist, “regaled me with stories of your birth.”

  “Yet,” said the stranger, “you will be present at my birth.”

  “For that I was born,” said the Baptist simply.

  “I come at the right time,” the stranger said.

  “True,” said the Baptist, “a year ago I would not have been ready. A year from now, it would be too late.”

  He looked at the visitor with concern. “But you have come a long way and hunger.”

  “I thirst for the living water with which you redeem Israel.”

  A shiver ran down my spine. Who could this be but the Messiah?

  “It has been written,” I whispered, “that the nation must first repent before the Messiah makes himself known.”

  “I know,” said Levi. “That is why so many have offered themselves for baptism. For it is well known that the sins of only one may curse the nation.”

  “Just as the sins of the father may afflict the children.”

  The stranger’s quick eye picked us out, and I flushed to the roots of my hair, I was sure he had heard everything. But he smiled with his eyes, and I felt an impulse to kneel and kiss his hand.

  I could see that he had a similar impact on others. I had thought that John would overshadow him, as he did all men. But I now understood what he meant when he said he was not fit to tie his shoes. For when he smiled one did not notice what other men were like, or even that they were there; it was as though a sorcerer had cast us in his spell. With a thumping heart I realized I had met the Master with whose life mine would be joined.

  All Israel would do his bidding, of that I was sure. All he had to do was say the word and Jews of every persuasion would rally behind him. He was clearly irresistible.

  I could hardly wait for him to speak.

  Yet when John, his eyes afire, was about to introduce him to the multitude, the stranger stayed him with a graceful motion.

  “Do first what you must do,” said he. “And I will do as much.”

  John bowed slightly. “As you will.”

  They walked side by side to the riverbank, drawing the people after them. The stranger, still barefoot, stepped into the water. Though only slightly taller than the Baptist he seemed to tower over him. The muddy Jordan swirled about their legs. All the others had kneeled before the Baptist, but he stood erect, gazing on skies that matched the blue of his eyes.

  The Essenes watched with mixed feelings. But there was no doubt where Sadoc and the Pharisees stood. From their expressions, they felt the whole scene had been prearranged. And so it had, but not as these sterile scholars of arid ritualism thought. Cestus and Dysmas, as usual, stood shoulder to shoulder, skeptically waiting. And they were joined this day by Joshua-bar-Abbas and Simon Zelotes.

  The Baptist dipped his hand into the water and, with a look of reverence, crossed himself in a gesture I had never before seen. There was a faraway look, the look of a visionary, in his eyes and even in the tilt of his head. “I do not of myself baptize the Son of Man,” he said in a flaming voice. “For he is greater than I and will do greater works. For what I do on earth, he shall do in heaven.”

  They stood facing each other, unmindful of the multitude.

  “It is more fit,” said the Baptist, “that you baptize me. For you are sent of God, and there is none on this earth with superior knowledge of God’s ways.”

  The Master put his hand on John’s shoulder. “You, John, have been sent to prepare the way. And you herald my ministry, not in heaven but on earth. None that baptizes on earth has more authority than you. For this you were given to Zacharias and Elizabeth late in life. And you are my own kinsman in the flesh as in the spirit. Of you my Father said: �
��Behold I send unto you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and terrible day of the Lord.’”

  John was still not satisfied. “I have need to be baptized of you, and you come to me?”

  “It is as I have said,” the Master rejoined.

  “But you are without sin, and I baptize for purification as in the olden days, and for the remission of sin.”

  “You baptize me so that the sins of the nation be washed away before I reveal myself to Israel.”

  There it was. Even as I wondered why he had waited, he had declared himself. My heart was filled with joy. Looking at Levi, I saw something of my own exaltation. Dysmas and Cestus still had a look of reserve, as did Joshua-bar-Abbas and Simon Zelotes. The Pharisees and the Sadducees gnashed their teeth in horror of this blasphemy.

  Again John’s hand dipped into the Jordan. “I baptize in water only,” said he, his eyes never leaving the Master’s, “but you baptize in the Holy Spirit.”

  The Master, with an embrace, let it be understood that he in no way demeaned the prophet who had filled the faithful with hope in recent months.

  “I am of the earth and speak of the earth, and he sent from heaven is above all.”

  The Master looked at him with eyes of love.

  “And so shall I continue. But how beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, and that saith unto Zion, thy God reigneth.”

  The Baptist still hesitated. “As I decrease, you must increase. For salvation comes through you.”

  “And you,” said the Master, “are the voice in the Wilderness, the messenger clearing the path to Judgment.”

  The Baptist turned to his followers, many of them dispirited by their leader’s submission to the stranger. “Bear me witness that I said I am not the Messiah, but that I am sent before him.”

  “But,” said the brawny giant Ahiram, “God sent you first for a reason.”

  “Not to establish my precedence but my role. He ranks ahead of me because he existed before me.”

  I saw a malicious smile darken Sadoc’s countenance. For with all these allusions, the stranger would have lived before Elijah, centuries ago.

  John cared little what other men thought. “Repent,” he cried into the crowd, “for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.”