Iscariot: A Novel of Judas (17 page)

Would he go so far? I thought of the paralytic, whose sins he had called forgiven.

I caught Peter's eye. His expression was stark.

"What's more," Jesus said, turning to look up the steps at the priests. "The father has entrusted all judgment to the son that all may honor the son just as they honor the father."

Outcry from the priests, hisses and exclamations from the Pharisees and some of the onlookers. Dumb stares from those on the steps--including Andrew and James.

"Who's his father?" someone else whispered. "Is he a priest?"

Nathan caught up to my side, having circumnavigated the growing crowd of those coming out the double gate and others stopping to stare from below, astonished by the spectacle.

"Don't be amazed at this!" Jesus was saying, his voice carrying out over the steps. "A time is coming when all who are in their graves will hear his voice and come out--those who have done what is good

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will rise to life, and those who have done what is evil will rise and be condemned. I judge as I hear, and my judgment is just!"

Uproar from the priests.

"My judgment is just!" Jesus shouted over them. "As I seek not to please myself but him who sent me!"

"Blasphemy," someone said from the group of priests. And then louder,

"Blasphemy! Do you hear him?"

I pushed through the Pharisees toward Jesus.

"Please, Teacher," I said. He glanced at me.

One of the Pharisees stepped forward. I recognized Narada bar Hakkesset, an elder Pharisee and a rich man, who also served on the high court of the Great Sanhedrin. And there, now that I could look back at them, were several of the Sanhedrin among the priests, their richly hemmed robes standing out among a sea of simple linen. They had gathered like vultures.

I no longer cared about Nathan, about the others emerging from the gate behind us. All that mattered was silencing him before these hostile witnesses.

"Teacher, please!"

By now even more had gathered, and I could see far below the form of a man pushing through the pilgrims gathered to watch the spectacle: Simon.

He came up the stairs and stopped, his face blanched nearly white.

"You are accused of telling a man to violate the Sabbath," one of the Sadducees said. "How do you testify on this?"

"By law, I can't testify about myself. Because anything I say about myself will be deemed untrue. But the father who sent me testified himself concerning me!"

And then the priests were shouting, and the Pharisees, too, and 141

some of the Sadducees began to shout at the priests because of something one of them said about the oral law, which the Sadducees did not acknowledge.

Quickly. Quickly. I hurried to Jesus' side as Simon came up the stair, the brothers John and James closing behind us. The Pharisees were waving their fingers and shouting, the old rivalries ever beneath the surface.

Ahead of us, those beggars and sick and others who had come over from the Siloam Pool began to hurry toward him, some hobbling, some being led by others, clamoring for him. Enclosing him.

As we hurried our master away, I glanced back, looking for Nathan. He was gone and what I saw stole the heat from my veins: Helcias bar Phiabi, the chief treasurer of the Temple, standing at the top of the stair, watching us go.

That day I understood, if I had not fully before, that Jesus was more than a mystery. More than unconventional, more than a faction able to unite some and divide others.

He was dangerous--to himself and all of us who followed him.

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I came home badly shaken.

I had seen the eyes of the chief treasurer upon me. I knew him by name and face and reputation, all. Phiabi. It was one of the great ruling houses, among Hanan, Boethus, Cantharus. They ruled the Temple, the high priesthood, the captains of the Temple guard.

I had wanted to be seen with my teacher. And a Sadducee had seen me indeed--ushering him away.

I was terrified.

I had no doubt Jesus had healed the man. I had never seen him turn away anyone who came to him, had never seen him fail to walk up to any man or woman or child who caught his attention, as though they had cried out in a voice that only he could hear.

Even on the Sabbath.

I reminded myself that the Maccabee had attacked the Seleucids on the Sabbath and that God had blessed him for it.

But for the moment, I knew too many people associated with the Temple who would want an accounting of me. And then there were the Sons--what would I say to them?

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He was the gatherer of multitudes, this Jesus. A man of questioned birth, who claimed the Lord himself was his father . . . and then healed on the Sabbath in violation of God's law. Man of contradictions! Didn't he know that there were those who might seek his ruin for this?

I briefly considered leaving the city, relocating my family to Kerioth, taking them away from here. For the first time in years I remembered the night we had fled Jerusalem, so long ago.

But Nathan would never go back to Kerioth and I wasn't certain Mother would, either.

And I would not leave my new master.

I was in a state of fear when a man arrived at our door. He handed me a coded note:

It is time we met in person.

Nathan stared at me as I read it, must have noted the color that fled my face.

"Who is that from? What does it say? This is because of what happened today, isn't it?"

I barely heard him. And I don't know how I answered him, my mind on the summons in my hand. From all that I knew, this was highly unconventional. It was not done.

I thought: It is a trap.

But even then I knew I would go. The mystery of the faceless Sons had hounded me for months, and I was ready to excise that boil--along with the fear of today--before it burst.

My mother caught me by the shoulders. "You're going to him, aren't you?

Don't. I beg you. Don't."

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"No. I'm not. Stay inside and do not answer for anyone until I return."

And then I went out, leaving Nathan's anger and my mother's fears behind me as I followed the servant, who did not speak, not knowing where he would lead me.

I walked quickly, noting the fine quality of his sandals, the mantle over his shoulder. Within minutes we had come to the upper city and a home I recognized as that of Rabbi Zadok.

The great Shammai's most obvious successor.

It was well known that Zadok was wealthy--he was married to a woman of some standing whose family supplied the wood for the Temple.

Shammai had always liked well-to-do students.

I expected to be taken around back, up a narrow flight of stairs to meet with my faceless source. A servant of the militant teacher, perhaps, or his steward. Such goings-on were not unheard of by those who were quietly almost as powerful as their masters, if only for the people they had access to.

But we came in through the courtyard, where we were greeted by another servant.

"The teacher asks that you join him for the meal," the servant said. And with amazement I realized that the rabbi himself must be my contact. The servant led me to a side room where he brought water and a clean garment for the meal. I hardly noticed any of the fine hangings on the walls or the mosaic tiles beneath my feet as I washed. Only after I had removed my own tunic did I look down at the bleached linen one with distant consternation. Only months before, I would have eagerly accepted this welcome, even as I felt that I dirtied the garment by donning it. Now I stared at it, a clean tunic of good linen, no doubt washed in ceremonially pure water. I 145

flicked the sleeve of it. Would this protect all within this home from the horrors of my past?

I put on the tunic and went out to the servant, who was waiting for me. He led me to an expansive room boasting several lamps, many of which were hanging upon the walls, and a large table set with food and attended by a stack of cushions.

There, sitting at the table, was Zadok, already sipping his wine.

I knew him to be several years younger than me though the hair of his beard was already grayer than his head. One side of his face pulled downward slightly, one brow lower than the other in a way that made him appear perpetually skeptical, even when he smiled.

"Judas," he said, rising to greet me.

"Hail, Teacher," I said, kissing his hand, stil in shock.

"Judas of Kerioth." He seemed to try out my name as he gestured me to recline. I was careful to do so with my heels away from him as the servant poured me a cup of wine. Zadok, I noticed, didn't bother to pray the blessing for wine but waited until the servant was done and then gestured for him to leave.

"After what happened today, what choice did I have but to invite you here?"

he said when the servant had gone. "Despite the risk I take in doing so."

"You can trust me," I said.

"It's not you that I worry about. Informants flourish among us. There are those who pander to our oppressors, who would take any opportunity to expose us. That is why we do not meet or gather. Why if one of us is captured we do our best to free him but not at the expense of informing upon one another or revealing ourselves. That is the oath we take, and that you have taken, let me remind

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you--that even upon pain of torture we would rather kill ourselves than inform."

"Yes," I said, remembering the night I went to Levi's house. He had refused to name any other members of the Sons, saying he would not even give up their number to me if he knew it. And I had made the same vow before God and Levi both.

"I, myself, do not know our full number--nor do I even want to. But I will tell you that we extend to the palaces and the hills. That there are Pharisees among us--and slaves and merchants and bandits, too. Even Judas bar Hezekiah's own sons. Thus, the truest Sons of the Teacher."

The name never failed to incite a visceral response in me. Even now I could feel the sweat beading against my nape.

"I can speak of them because they are wanted already. They seem to have made zealotry something of a family business. But I suppose it runs in other families as well," he said with a meaningful look.

"So I hear," I heard myself say.

"Meanwhile, this country teacher you now follow inspires the imagination of the peasantry with his stories and purported miracles. You see, Judas, we are on the cusp of several opportunities converging at a very important time."

My heart was by now beating very fast. I had forgotten the wine before me, the food on the table. The sons of Judas bar Hezekiah! What might be accomplished if they joined with my master? We would rouse the entire countryside. Our movement would be unstoppable! In my mind I saw all of Galilee rising up, rushing south to Jerusalem like a mighty flood.

"Perhaps now you understand why I am mystified about this 147

Jesus," Zadok said. "About the things you have said about him and his sway over the people. And why I am confused about the things I've heard even today from others who were there at the southern steps. So now I need to know: Does he call himself a messiah?"

I swallowed, aware that I must now choose my words carefully. Because suddenly I didn't know what my greater mission was: to win the Sons to Jesus' cause, or Jesus to the Sons'?

And then I told myself: It was all one and the same.

"No. He has not."

"I hear he is one of questioned birth, and a Nazarene."

"He is a man of the people. He speaks the language of the Galilean poor.

The taxed and the landless--of which there are far more than the rich."

"Is he raising an army?"

I hesitated.

"You may speak safely and freely here. I know you are a follower of the teachings of Shammai--" I noted how carefully he distinguished this, as we both knew I had not been his student truly--"and among brothers." Was it my imagination or did he purposefully point my loyalty toward the school that he now had effectively assumed?

"Perhaps," I said. And then, "I don't know. He hasn't said. He speaks in riddles and stories, even to us."

"And these peculiar stories. Are they a message? A code to others? Who are his affiliates?"

"His cousin, John--"

He waved his hand. "John is imprisoned and as good as dead. Herod will not forgive him."

No one had stated it as starkly as this until now in my hearing. I reached for my wine, hoping he wouldn't see how that jarred me.

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"I understand that Jesus has acquired many of John's disciples."

"Some. Yes. Teacher, I've meant to ask--have you seen or heard from Levi?"

He studied me for a moment, his fingers on the edge of his cup, before he said, "No."

Why was I not certain I believed him?

"Who are his sponsors?"

I pictured in my mind Mary the Magdalene and Joanna, the wife of Herod's steward. But I dare not say so, knowing it would only discredit my master.

"The people themselves," I said.

"These lepers. Does he heal them truly? What is his method? How does he do it?"

I saw again the way the leper had dropped his head and how, when he reached up, his hand was whole. How does one tell that?