The Making of the Lamb Read online

  Satan watched as the spiritual wave approached the Imperial City. The hills of Rome would be like a shallow continental shelf to an approaching tsunami, but it was not a matter of their geography. The combination of circumstance, ambition, and human vanity that lay concentrated in the capital of the Empire would provide a fertile field for the wave to wreak its havoc.

  Augustus

  The emperor stood on the balcony of his palace atop the Palatine Hill, gazing at the city below. He frequently boasted how he had found the city made of brick and would leave it marble. I have done well for Rome, but much remains undone. There is too much selfishness and villainy in this city. I must lead a return to Roman virtues. The games are becoming more barbaric every day. Gladiators kill for sport, and too many people lust to see blood flowing for their own entertainment. Politicians are eager to appease that lust in exchange for votes. Romans who once were ready to fight and die for the Republic now expect barbarian mercenaries to do their fighting for them. I must replace those who lust for personal power with those filled with love for Rome. I will lead my people to a higher path, one that will make this city worthy to stand before the gods for all time.

  The sound of an opening door interrupted his reverie. His wife, Lydia, joined him on the balcony. “The city is so beautiful in the sunset,” she remarked. “The colors are so vibrant, and the gathering gloom hides all the filth.” She waited for him to acknowledge her. Then she continued. “We need to talk about Tiberius.”

  “Spare me, please. I have had enough of that confounded son of yours.” I wonder if she knows. The emperor had signed the warrant for the arrest of Lydia’s son by a previous marriage. The man was truly lecherous. Augustus had given the order: Tiberius would be arrested and disgraced before all Rome the next day.

  “You know Tiberius loves you.”

  “Humph! Germanicus is old enough now, and he is my blood. The people love him, and he is virtuous. When my time comes, he must succeed me. I am changing my will to assure that Rome has a worthy emperor.”

  Lydia chewed her lip, silently considering. Then she stepped away, leaving Augustus alone.

  She knows. I should have agreed with her, to allay her fears for Tiberius. She will plot to gain the throne for her son if I give her the chance. The door opened and Lydia returned, bearing a cup of fruit.

  “I am sorry that I troubled you, my dear. Have some fruit.”

  She must be truly desperate now to take this chance. When she poisoned Gaius and Lucius, my adopted sons, she had slaves do her dirty work. But now she comes bearing the poison herself. Augustus sighed. I have no choice. She means to murder me by poison, and the evidence is right there in her hands. I must summon the guards.

  But at that moment, Augustus felt overcome by something he could not identify. A sense of weariness overwhelmed him. Suddenly gone was his ambition to return virtue to the public life of Rome. He was so tired, and the fruit in the bowl was so tempting. He could not help himself. He reached for a ripe pear and bit into it. He died looking into Lydia’s eyes.

  Lucifer

  The Father would have foreseen this, but Satan knew it was not what God wanted. Augustus should have ruled Rome for many years, to be succeeded by the virtuous Germanicus. Instead, the lecherous madman Tiberius would take the throne.

  Beyond this, Satan saw untold miseries laid out for Rome. The noble Germanicus would be slain in faraway Antioch through the handiwork of Lydia, who would see him as a threat to her son’s rule. The son of Germanicus, Caligula, would succeed Tiberius but be driven to madness by the constant threat of death in Tiberius’s court.

  The short reign of Caligula would set a new low for lechery and madness, and eventually his own guards would slay him. The rule of Claudius would bring a brief respite of sanity, but his speech impediment would leave him insecure about his standing with both plebian and patrician, so he could be manipulated into launching the invasion of Britain to make his own mark. Satan chortled. What a nice touch that Jesus himself had unloosed this havoc upon the race of Britons, whom he seemed to favor. Claudius would make way for another madman, Nero. Satan would have fun with the line of Julian emperors until it petered out a hundred years after Augustus’s ascension. By then, the corruption of the empire would have sown the seeds of its own destruction.

  All of this havoc and more lay clear to Satan, wreaked by the spiritual wave launched that night from the summit of the Tor.

  Lucifer’s vision for the future overcame his earlier terror. What might have happened in the Godhead to cause such a great disturbance? Could the Word really turn from the Father? Lucifer had to find out, so he made his way to heaven to confront the Creator.

  “I see the time has come for the fulfillment of the prophecies,” began Lucifer. “The Word has become incarnate among men.”

  “You know that perfectly well, so why are you here?” the Father asked.

  “You have not changed. Just as with Job, you build a fence around Jesus that no impure thought can penetrate, and then you say, ‘Look how righteous my servant is.’ With Jesus you even kept him hidden from me until now.”

  “Jesus is not ready to be tempted by you.”

  “Oh, the precious Word of God cannot be tempted by mean old Lucifer? Are you that afraid of me?”

  “I have no fear of you. I only need to protect the Son from you until he is ready. Once he comes fully into his divine nature, there will be no contest.”

  “When will that be? When may I tempt him?”

  “You will have your chance before he begins his ministry. I will allow you forty days and forty nights in the wilderness. When that time comes, you can make him suffer any deprivation you choose. You may offer him any temptation to turn away from me. But you will fail. I am his Father, and you do not know the Son as I do. You will never turn him from me. Until then, you must leave Jesus alone. That is what I command you.”

  “He has turned against you already. He knows you will forsake him, and he despises you for it, as well he should. I heard what he had to say. And he’s right. You are a heartless Father. He knows that and I know that, and I am sure that you—omniscient you—know that, too.”

  The Father drew back his arm as if to strike Lucifer down.

  Lucifer recoiled in terror.

  “Go from here, Satan. You will have your chance to tempt Jesus. Until then, I forbid you to molest him.”

  “Hah! It shall be as you command, but I am not the one you need to fear. Your own Son turns against you, and that is not my doing. You think you can establish control forever, but you will fail, as you did with Job even though you do not admit it. Do not worry. You command me to leave Jesus unmolested until you say he is ready, and I shall obey. I know your tricks. You are the source of all the evil in Creation, just as you are the source of good. Why else would a truly benevolent, omnipotent, and omniscient god allow evil to run rampant throughout the world?”

  “I do not answer to you. Go away.”

  “You speak as if a fallen angel could weary the mighty omnipotent one. Very well, I shall go.”

  So, Lucifer made his way from heaven down to Earth. He went among men and saw Jesus for the first time. Though he had to obey the Father, there was work to be done. Lucifer cast his eyes about. The Father had forbidden him to molest Jesus, but he had said nothing about Jesus’s friends and family. Mary was too pure to be corrupted. The Arimathean was a possibility, but Jesus was too independent of him; besides, the old man kept so righteously to the Law, tempting him in any meaningful way would be difficult.

  But Daniel? Satan sensed the young man’s weakness. He had been Jesus’s faithful companion for years, often taken for granted; surely his jealousy could drive a craving for wealth or power to prove his own mettle. Of course there was also the old standby for such a ladies’ man—simple old-fashioned lust. It would take some investigating to find the best way to possess, corrupt, and destroy the young man, but the Deceiver was sure he had lit upon a fertile field for his handiwork.
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br />   Chapter 15

  The Unblemished

  Daniel

  Throughout the night, lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and earthquakes continued to shake the ground. At first driven indoors, the people emerged and huddled in small groups in the fields around the Tor. Daniel looked up into the sky. It is most unnatural. The stars still shine brightly, there is not a cloud in the sky, but the lightning and thunder are yet all around.

  As the violence of the night finally waned, fog rolled in from the sea, blocking the stars from view. Elsigar assured the people it was safe for them to return to their homes, but looking pointedly at Daniel, he sternly warned everyone to stay off the Tor until he could see what the gods had wrought there. “The spirits of the underworld are surely awakened. Anyone who climbs the Tor now might reopen gateways for them to get out and wreak untold havoc among the living.”

  Mary revived as the fog rolled in, so Daniel joined his father and his aunt as they made their way back to her house. Arvigarus joined them. It was the closest building to the Tor, where the earthquakes seemed centered, yet it appeared undamaged.

  “We still could find a way to look on the Tor for Jesus,” Daniel whispered to Arvigarus once they were inside. “The night is quite dark, and the fog would conceal us. We could sneak past any sentinels Elsigar might post.”

  “I cannot defy the archdruid!” Arvigarus was too shocked by Daniel’s suggestion to keep his voice low.

  Both Mary and Joseph looked up, and Mary raised her hand. “If you are thinking of going up the Tor for Jesus, there is no need. God has protected this house from the violence of this night, and surely, he did not do it just for me. If God can protect this house, then he will find a way to protect his son, too.”

  Daniel looked into Papa’s face, which was illuminated by the flickering light from the fire pit. He could see they shared the same thought. She does not know that the violence of the night reflects the wrath her son must have stirred in God.

  Arvigarus looked to Mary. “Are you saying Jesus is the son of your god?” Getting no response, he looked to an equally nonplussed Daniel. Then he turned to Joseph.

  “Jesus is very special, but your question is a deep one. It has many ramifications,” Papa answered.

  Mary wept softly.

  “If you believe he is the son of your god, then he would likely be godly himself, at least in some ways,” said Arvigarus.

  “Perhaps,” Joseph answered. “But this is still a trying night for all of us. We worry for his safety, and his mother is so distressed.”

  Arvigarus smiled, but it seemed feigned. “Soon I should be able to ask this of Jesus himself.”

  Daniel looked to Mary and Joseph. Why are we all so afraid to talk about who Jesus really is? The possible divinity of Jesus was a subject none of them had yet broached among the Britons. Perhaps Papa worries how they will react if word gets out, particularly if something has happened to Jesus.

  The prince looked to each of them in turn.

  Arvigarus will want his answer before long.

  A diffused light awoke Daniel after a few hours. Mary and Joseph stirred as well, but Arvigarus remained fast asleep. The light of dawn, filtered through fog that yet overhung the Levels, cast no shadows. Daniel smiled. This was the first sign for him that the natural order of his world had returned.

  He rose from his bed and shook the prince. He is used to a harsher light of dawn, where the fog does not come stealing in every morning. “Come on, Arvigarus. The light of day will show us what the night has wrought.”

  Papa was on his way out the door, and Mary looked as if she had not slept at all. Tightening the apron string around her waist, she followed Papa. She is in too much hurry this morning, even to start the bread.

  After they emerged onto the field, they immediately noticed the small clusters of Britons gathered around the house. A quick inspection showed Daniel and Joseph no damage. For all the night’s violence, particularly the earthquakes, it is strange that the house, so close to the Tor, stands unblemished. These people have good reason to be amazed.

  Like a slowly rising stage curtain, the fog gradually lifted. It revealed more and more of the surrounding country, but there was nothing unusual to see, at least in the beginning. Looking to the woods surrounding the field, there did not even appear to be any fallen branches. A man came up and reported to Elsigar, who was standing in one of the groups, and the astonishing word spread: nothing in the Lake Village was amiss.

  The sunlight grew stronger and the day grew warmer. People suddenly pointed back to the Tor as a hush of amazement fell over the crowd. Daniel turned to see.

  The Tor’s perfect conical shape, rounded only at the top, had distinguished it from all other hills. Now, the lifting fog revealed a distinct ridge that marred its form.

  The bank of fog lifted faster as all eyes fixed on the Tor. A second ridgeline and then a third emerged from the lifting shroud. The ridges wound around and around the Tor. From the fields around Mary’s house, the Tor’s conical shape appeared to be altered not only by the new ridge, but also from the side, where the entire shape was now elongated.

  As the fog finally dissipated, a lone figure emerged over the second ridgeline. It is Jesus! As Mary dropped to her knees in a prayer of thanksgiving, Daniel watched his cousin stumble toward them. The crowd parted to make way. Jesus lurched across the field to his mother and collapsed into her arms.

  “Thanks be to God for keeping you safe,” Mary said. “I knew he would protect his son!”

  Arvigarus raised an eyebrow.

  “How did you survive the night?” Daniel asked. “The earthquakes were so powerful, they reshaped the Tor. The earth about you must have tossed like a sea in a tempest.”

  Jesus moaned in weariness. His words were hardly coherent. “The Father lifted me into the sky to watch as he reshaped the Tor.”

  “I knew he would keep you safe. You are his only son,” said Mary.

  “He doesn’t want me.” Jesus was barely audible. “He transformed the Tor into a monument to the grief I caused him. I saw it looking down from the sky, the shape of a teardrop to mark his sadness. Ridgelines like a whirlwind to remind me of his fury. I now know what it is to be blemished by sin. You should give yourself to be the Lord’s handmaiden once again, Mother. Give yourself to the Father once again so he can beget the son he really wants, for you are still untainted.”

  Joseph spoke up. “Whatever you have said or done, Jesus, God is infinitely merciful. He will forgive you and wash it away. You only need to turn back to him.”

  “It’s what he wants of me, Uncle, but I cannot do it. I do not even want to. I am so weary.”

  Jesus collapsed into a stupor, and Aunt Mary, in her element, directed Daniel and Arvigarus to carry him inside.

  As he helped Jesus, Daniel noticed Elsigar watching intensely. What must he be thinking? What will he do to Jesus and the rest of us when he realizes Jesus had some hand in reshaping this place, which is so holy for the druids? If he was afraid before that we might open the gateways to his Underworld just by climbing the Tor, what superstitions and fears must be racing through his mind now?

  Bridget

  The Dobunni set a splendid table, even if their mead was weak. A couple of their warriors staged a sparring match as part of the entertainment, battering one another with blunt-edged swords. Princess Bridget picked at her food, wishing she could join them.

  From an early age, she had shown a propensity for boyish sports and combat. Her mother had died years ago, leaving no sons. Bridget was her father’s only hope of a successor, other than a distant cousin whom he despised. Papa hoped for her to wed a strong husband. She did not lack for suitors, but she would not be ruled.

  She peered down the table toward her father. His head drooped over his trencher. Behold, King Aghamore of the Belgae, asleep over his meal. Do our hosts not see how dull the entertainments have become? For her part, Bridget did her best to feign interest, but Father, it seemed, could
not be bothered. And who could blame him? After two nights of pointless revelries, he must be eager to get down to business. He should just give them the ultimatum, demanding they yield the territory we need, out to the Sabrina, so we can trade with our kinsmen in Eire. These people are divided and ill prepared to fight, but Papa will not abide a war if he can avoid it. He will be the proper guest. He will wait until this stupid feasting is done and the gifts are exchanged before getting down to any business, lest he give unnecessary offense.

  Bridget caught a glance from one of the host princes. She raised her tankard for another quaff, and then she held it to her lips to conceal her amusement. Is he flirting with me? He must not know my reputation. The princess lowered the tankard and gave the fellow a polite smile. Papa wants peace with these people, but he will never allow a marriage with them. I wonder what he will do if that fellow makes a bolder move.

  A bard stepped to the center of the hall, and Bridget turned her attention to him. He began singing of the outlander called Jesus. I have heard of that fellow. They say he comes all the way from the other end of the Roman territory. He fought bravely and well at Rumps. They called him the great hero who saved the Dumnonii, but that was two years ago.

  The bard continued, accompanying himself on the harp as he set the news to verse. This time, the bard reported, Jesus had defied the gods themselves. Their fury had reshaped the great Tor of Ynys Witrin. Jesus had remained atop the summit, while everyone else quaked with fear through an unnatural, tempestuous night. They thought that Jesus must be dead, for what mortal could withstand the force of such upheavals and live to tell the tale, but Jesus did! The outlander had not made it through without adverse effect though, as the night had weakened him and confined him to bed with a fever. He yet remained at Ynys Witrin.