The Painted Messiah (35 page)

'There is much talk these days of a Jewish king, the long-awaited Messiah of prophesy. Are the people
really so naïve, Nicodemus, that they believe they can throw off the Roman authority simply by trusting a man who pretends to work miracles?'

'There are men who excite the crowds, but they are for the most part disenfranchised. They find their strength in the villages, where the people dress themselves in rags and spend the day working for a piece of bread that you and I would not find fit to toss to our dogs. In the cities, these people have no audience.'

'I met a man some years ago who seemed capable of inspiring the people of the city.'

'These sorts of men are rare and far more dangerous to the peace.'

'I am wondering if you know him - Judas Kerioth.'

Nicodemus's eyes brightened at the name. 'He is the son of a wealthy merchant in the city. As I recall, he fell in with certain radical elements and has been disinherited for it.'

Nicodemus's son spoke. 'Judas is a disciple of the rabbi I told you I had met, father.'

'The one who despises money?' Nicodemus exclaimed with a laugh. 'Tell Pilate what he said to you.'

'I was travelling on business and heard the man speaking. The more I listened the more I liked what he said. He wasn't one these men who wants to get rid of Rome. He talked instead about the Kingdom of God. I went to him afterwards. I thought I could help him, but when I asked him what I could do for his sake, he told me I should sell all that I owned and give it to the poor, and then join him in the desert.'

'Can you imagine it?' the older Nicodemus responded.

Pilate did not answer, but looked at the son again, who said in all seriousness, 'I was almost tempted to do it.'

'Why?' Pilate asked him. He was curious more than anything.

The young man offered a mysteriously happy smile. 'I suppose because it had never occurred to me that I could.'

'He wants to destroy Rome,' Nicodemus answered, 'Men like that are all the same!'

'My father and I are not in agreement about the rabbi.'

'That is because my son was still a baby when Judas of Galilee seized the Temple. He does not remember what it was like then.'

'I have heard the stories, Father.'

'Stories are one thing. Blood is another! There was a time when I was quite certain Jerusalem would become the next Carthage - her people killed, the city razed, the earth sown with salt.'

'He talked about God, not revolution!'

'Could you find this man, if you wanted?' Pilate asked. Nicodemus and his son both turned and looked at him curiously. 'If he is the great healer I've heard about,' Pilate explained, 'I could use his services.'

'He is difficult to find,' the young man answered somewhat evasively.

'Perhaps if he comes to Jerusalem, you could inform me?'

Young Nicodemus tipped his head as if it were no great matter to him. 'If we can help, you know we will.'

In private Pilate confessed the truth to the elder Nicodemus, who listened thoughtfully to the matter

before announcing his opinion. 'Your centurion is right, I think. Sejanus wants a war. He knows you will do your part because you must, and he hopes Judas will respond appropriately because he can. He still has a great many friends in Jerusalem.'

'I cannot ignore direct orders.'

'What if I were to take care of Judas? The others who follow this Yeshua are simple men. Without their rabbi and certainly without Judas, they couldn't possibly inspire a general uprising against the Roman garrisons.'

'My orders are specific, Nicodemus. The followers are to be left alone. If Judas turns up murdered, Sejanus will know where to place the blame. If I murder Judas, I might as well slice my own wrists as well.'

Nicodemus considered the matter quietly before telling Pilate, 'Follow your orders, then. Follow them . . . explicitly.'

Pilate's face betrayed his excitement. Until that moment he had faced death, either by the hand of the Jews or his own after losing his garrisons. 'You have an idea?'

'Let us call it a chance: for the two of us and for our families - and for Jerusalem.'

The people began leaving the city as soon as the sun had set upon the Sabbath. By dawn, well over fifty thousand of them lined the road leading to the Susim Gate, the Gate of Kings. At midday their Messiah rode into their midst, his path strewn with palm leaves as he rode toward the city on the back of a donkey.

'The wind arrives,' Cornelius remarked drolly from the battlements.

Pilate nodded solemnly, unable to pull his gaze from the spectacle. 'I hope we have not caught more than our sail can manage.'

'If we have, then we will die like Romans, Prefect.'

'All things considered, Centurion, I had rather live like one.'

Nicodemus' slaves watched for Judas Kerioth at his parents' house. He appeared after dark on the second evening of their watch and entered by a side gate. An hour later he came back into the street. The slaves were waiting for him. They handed Judas a scroll held together by a piece of wax with an impression of the signet ring of Nicodemus. Recognizing it, Judas opened the letter eagerly and read by the light of the slaves' torches:

The Kingdom of God is at hand, my friend.

—Nicodemus

Judas looked at the slaves questioningly. Their leader told him, 'My master wishes to speak with you this evening, if it is possible.'

Judas followed the slaves to a house within the city and came before Nicodemus the Elder. 'Your master is wanted by the Romans, Judas,' Nicodemus told him by way of greeting. 'He hasn't much time left.'

'Antipas has chased him for the better part of the last year without effect.'

'Antipas is an old fox whose teeth have rotted away from eating carrion. Pilate is not. Pilate will find him . . . sooner or later.'

'It may be we find Pilate first.'

'You have the army for it. It seems a shame your king hesitates to use it.'

Judas's eyes flashed at the insult, but he did not speak.

'The Jews have never been more ready to fight, nor more certain that the time has come. They want only inspiration and a commander to lead them!'

'Rome has always been kind to you, Nicodemus,' Judas remarked. His tone was casual, but his point was made. He did not trust Nicodemus.

'I pay well for the kindness, but I am tired of it. Their greed is insatiable. I had rather buy the services of an army to defeat him than pay Pilate another penny for his goodwill.'

Judas smiled. 'Are there armies about that are for sale?'

'Herod Antipas is easily bribed.'

'We want nothing from that man!'

'And nothing is what he is selling. The moment you turn on the Roman garrison the Governor of Syria will order three of his legions to march south on Jerusalem. These he will support with three auxiliary units of Syrian cavalry - thirty thousand men under arms. He will ask in addition that Antipas bring an army into the field before he proceeds to Jerusalem. If Antipas delays, the Romans will wait. That is when you will strike.'

'Have you spoken to Antipas?'

'My gold will say all that is necessary, but I will not waste it on dreamers and fanatics. I need to see a man who can lead Judaea against the Romans before I will spend money on revolutions.'

'That man is among us now!'

Nicodemus shook his head. 'I have seen men like your master more times than I care to count. They possess every advantage the Lord can give a man and then hesitate at the critical moment. Nations rise and fall because of their indecision. Who can say what stops them from seizing the moment? Certainly not courage. Perhaps they think that in time their opportunities increase. I do not know. I
do
know this. The nation of Israel cannot be born again without spilling the blood of both Romans
and
Jews. Let Pilate have your master. Let him hang him as he intends from a Roman cross. Let him do it before all the Jews on the day of our Passover.'

'You cannot be serious!'

'You saw the people receive him in Jerusalem. You saw the hope in their faces. Tell me! Will the people not ache with the loss of such a leader?'

'They will burn with fury,' Judas muttered, 'as they always do when they see the Romans humiliate us.'

Nicodemus nodded solemnly, his dark eyes catching the younger man's and holding them. 'Some men are born to lead, Judas, and some to inspire. Since you were very young people have known it was in your nature to lead. Why do you hesitate when you see what the death of your master will inspire? Do you not remember Moses? He placed a serpent upon a cross and set it before his army. So it will be when you hold up the death of your master before our people. Your time has come to fulfill your destiny, Judas. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Give Pilate Yeshua and Pilate will give you Jerusalem.'

'I cannot give Yeshua to Pilate and then lead his army into battle!'

'Why not? What happens under cover of darkness will stay in darkness. No one will ever know. Besides, it is not his army you will lead. When you are King of Israel they will have forgotten even the name of Yeshua. Men will speak of Judas Kerioth as the Messiah of prophesy. And they will be right!'

As Judas considered the prospect that he would become the true Messiah, his eyes glistened with excitement. 'Can you buy Antipas off?'

'It will be easy enough. He is already in Jerusalem.'

A cloud of doubt now came over the younger man. 'Rome will not stand for it. They will send more than a handful of legions against us if we defeat the legions stationed in Syria.'

'Learn from the mistakes of the past and you will keep what you have won. Once you have annihilated Pilate's forces and defeated the Syrian legions, you can wait to be crushed or you can march on Egypt. The Egyptians will see your courage and rise up against the Romans themselves. When that happens, you can make an alliance with them and finish the work they have started. Afterwards, you would do well to entice the Parthians to join your cause. They are bitter enemies of Rome and will seize the opportunity you offer them. A united army under your command can sweep across Africa, breaking the legions before Tiberius has awakened from his midday nap.'

'You make it sound easy.'

'It is never easy to sacrifice those we love, no matter how necessary. I make it sound possible. Because it is.

Rome rules us because we let her. She will fall when we refuse to kneel down to her authority. The moment waits only the man with the courage to seize the opportunity and the vision that makes men follow him. Do I look at him or shall we wait for another generation before we throw them off?'

After a moment of silence, Judas answered, 'Tell me what I must do.'

'It is not safe to stay in Jerusalem, Lady.'

Procula stared uncertainly at the centurion Cornelius. The hour was late. She had already retired to her bedroom and was reading by candlelight about the Passover of the Jews. Cornelius's enormous frame filled her doorway. 'What are you talking about?'

'Pilate arrests the Jewish Messiah this night. By morning, the whole city will know it. When that happens, there is a good chance they will storm the palace. I cannot protect you if that happens, so I have arranged your escape this evening. You will please dress for travel and follow me.'

'Pilate sends you?'

'He would have come himself, but this evening is critical to our chances.'

'Answer my question. Did Pilate send you?'

'No.'

'Nor should he have done so. I am a Roman, like yourself and Pilate and all the rest who sit in this wretched palace. I will not flee the fate others must endure.'

The enormous round face of the centurion flushed with exasperation. 'You do not want to be here
tomorrow, Lady. You have not seen how soldiers act against women after a battle.'

'What has Pilate done, that he brings this upon us?'

'Your husband answers an imperial command, nothing more.'

'Regarding the Jewish Messiah?'

'I have said more than I should.'

The foreboding of what was about to transpire no doubt triggered Procula's dream, though she believed, as was the custom of the day, the dream was divinely sent.

It was a simple and awful vision: a man crucified, as many had already been. But this was different. Those who watched did not keep their distance, as they ought to have done, but stood at the base of the cross and caught his blood as they could, smearing it upon their foreheads first and then upon the heads of the others who could not get close enough.

Coming awake suddenly, Procula whispered to the night, 'He is the Paschal Lamb!'

Climbing from her bed, she told the slave girl sleeping on the floor in the corner of the room that she needed to speak with the officer of the guard at once. The girl scurried quickly from the room and returned a few moments later with an officer and an escort of guards.

'I must speak with Pilate,' Procula told the tribune as she pulled a cloak hurriedly over her night clothes.