Fifth Gospel(133)

He waited but there was no response.

‘They say you can perform miracles…that you can turn stones to bread, or perhaps it is that you turn bread to flesh? I have heard that you like to divulge priestly secrets to the multitudes. Will you not divulge something now to us? We have heard, for instance, that you can raise the dead and cause the blind to see. How comes this talent to you? Will you not show us one of your tricks? Come! Perform a miracle to amuse us. Can you cure nightmares? Can you take away the stains of the blood, the madness of souls? Can you take the ache from bones? No? Perhaps you need a greater challenge to impress us…we give you permission to destroy the armies of Aretas!’

Jesus did not look up but stood, leaning and silent, with blood dripping from his wounds.

Herod put his sandal to the blood to rub it into the stone tile and it smudged and made a red mess, which vexed him. He sensed restlessness in the air, by now he must seem a fool. He proposed to himself alternatives.

‘I have long wondered if your powers come from the spirit of John the Baptist. They say he lives inside you, is this true?’ He encircled Jesus. ‘Like two peas in a pod? And while we are on the matter, I will tell you that it was not my wish to kill the baptiser. We had many conversations together and I was beginning to feel a certain…friendship growing between us. It was, well, it was an unfortunate oath, which I could not undo, you see, and before I knew it, his head was on a platter! I am sorely unhappy for it and I wish there were a way for him to know that I meant him no harm…perhaps you can speak with him on my behalf? If you can raise the dead surely you can speak with them? Tell me, how is it for them, do they suffer much? Is there such a place as hell? Is it as they say, separated from heaven by a hand’s breath? Is it full of burning coals and sparks of fire to punish the wicked? Tell us…can you wipe away the sins of men? Can you take away the shadows of wrongdoing that like a bird’s wing flaps over the wicked?’

He paused, sensing their nearness. This sensing filled him with vexation. ‘For the love of God!’ he shouted, stamping a bloody sandal. ‘Why don’t you answer? I have the power to release you from these chains, and this humiliation! I can ensure your freedom if you tell me something marvellous, if you show me some…some small miracle! If you do, I will keep the priests from tearing out your throat like blooded dogs!’

But the man was obdurate, as pale as a statue beneath the butchering.

‘Make him speak, Herod!’ his wife shouted, and his court broke out in agreement.

Crossly, Herod gathered his soul in, for he wanted to splutter and spit out his wrath but instead he took another tack, ‘Kings from the East visited my father, looking for a child…’ he narrowed his eyes and came very near Jesus, ‘they called him a king! Is it true that you are this child who escaped from my father’s clutches? If so, how did you manage it? Did you make yourself disappear? Come…do you think yourself the King of Israel?’

Not a word escaped the wounded man.

Herod, full of frustration, lashed out, ‘Answer me!!!!’

A curdled silence fell in the great hall as Herod walked away from Jesus to sit upon his cushions. He wanted to rip out the man’s tongue for his insolent silence, but outwardly he made light of it before it was too late.

‘He is a fool!’ he said, making a merry laugh.

‘Then he is a fool that has made a fool of you!’ Herodias said, quite taken with her own wit, ‘I think him smarter than John the Baptist!’

‘No!’ Herod said to her, ‘Even I can see it…he is nothing like that great man!’ He looked at the feeble figure, standing in chains. ‘He is not a king or a Messiah! The people may have sung Hosannas when you rode into the city on an ass,’ he said to him, ‘but now they call for your blood, if I let you go, they will surely get it!’

Jesus of Nazareth looked at him a moment and Herod grew hopeful. The moment was long and in that stare lived a form of heavenly wrath, which took away Herod’s breath and planted in him a feeling he had never before experienced.

He sat up. His face grew warm.

Shame!

He did not like this new-felt sensation and broke the stare. The burning feeling died down. It was plain now, that he could not coax the man to converse on level terms. Feeling querulous, with his brain pulsing against his skull for this quiet ridicule, he called for the priests. He told them, with no small satisfaction, that he could not condemn a man whom Pontius Pilate had pronounced innocent for the sake of good relations with an old enemy – Pilate. Besides, the man Jesus did not seem guilty of anything, he was simply mad.