The Making of the Lamb Page 46

  Jesus stepped back. Daniel’s face was wet with tears, and Jesus felt dampness on his own. When he summoned the guards to lower the ladder, one of them came down to secure the gag and to make sure the bonds were tight.

  Jesus climbed the ladder and sought out the captain. “Can you remove the bonds and the gag from my cousin? I know you must prevent his escape, but there is no way for him to get out of that sinkhole without the ladder. Your men guard him constantly from the rim, ready to shoot if he makes a move.”

  “He’s a murderer, and our own lives are forfeit if he escapes.”

  “He is not the same man as when he did those things. The Devil possessed him to make him commit those crimes, and has now abandoned Daniel to wallow in his guilt and misery. My cousin is truly sorry. Even if he deserves death for his actions, there is still good in him. You would not be so cruel to an animal in binding him that way, and my cousin is so much more. He will not run, even if he gets the chance, and I pledge my own life to you that he will not even try.”

  “Very well. Let this be on your head as well.” With that, the captain sent the same guard down into the pit to remove the ropes and gag. He also sent down the leftovers from the guards’ midday meal.

  Jesus watched to see Daniel loosed from his gag and bonds, and then he rode his horse down the valley of the River Axe. The Tor came into view across the marshlands of the Levels. It was late afternoon, and there was abundant light for Jesus to make out the new elongated shape of the base and the distinct ridges with which God the Father had transformed the Tor into a monument to remind Jesus of his sadness and anger. Jesus dismounted, allowed his horse to graze, and began to walk slowly across the wetland, wading through the standing water.

  Stopping after a few moments, he raised his arms. “How dare you, Father?” he cried out. “It was not enough that you condemn me to crucifixion! You allowed Satan to corrupt and possess Daniel, and now he is condemned, too! You know there is good in him, and yet you forsake him to the Devil. Is it not enough for you to condemn me to death and pain and shame? Must you also hurt those I love?”

  Jesus lowered his arms and dropped to his knees. His tears flowed freely. I am even angrier now than when I faced my Father at the summit of the Tor.

  Chapter 18

  Stonehenge

  Jesus

  Jesus visited Daniel again the next day, and as he climbed out of Daniel’s prison sinkhole, Arvigarus was waiting for him.

  He explained to Jesus that Cymbeline had sent him to represent the Silures because the king was too ill for the journey, and Guiderius was away on a diplomatic mission to the Ordovices tribe in northern Cymru.

  “Did you come to speak to my cousin?” Jesus asked him.

  “Elsigar said it would be better to wait for the Dumnonii to arrive before we question Daniel,” said Arvigarus. “I thought it would be good to see you, and they said I would find you here.”

  “It is good to see you too, but of course you understand that this is a difficult time for us.”

  “I am sorry about Pirro. If I had not pushed you into taking him, he would have just died instead of creating all this trouble. I doubt Daniel would have attacked the princess’s wagon on his own.”

  “You had no way of knowing what would happen,” said Jesus. “I freed Pirro on the way to Ynys Lawd. I could have chosen to let him die then, too, and none of this would have happened.” I do not want to go over everything that happened with Melchior on Ynys Lawd. “My people believe that there is a fallen angel, the Devil, who creates evil in the world. Daniel’s sin was the cunning work of that Devil. I think the Devil took Daniel first, and when he found Pirro, used him, too. We cannot keep wondering about what might have happened because of Pirro. If he had not been around, the Devil would have found someone else to use.”

  “Will you be able to manage without Daniel? Everyone thinks well of you and hopes your family will stay in Ynys Witrin.”

  “God wants me to return to Galilee, but I do not think I can.”

  “How can you defy your god?”

  When Jesus did not respond, Arvigarus asked, “This started that night when the Tor was reshaped, did it not? I remember something your mother said: that your god would surely look after his son.” Arvigarus paused, but Jesus kept his silence. “I think you would have to be his son to defy him that way. There are things only a son would get away with. Fathers have a way of forgiving their sons. My father forgave Guiderius for slaying Clotten, the man he had picked to marry my sister. And a few weeks ago I told my father that I was giving up my druidic studies; he was very angry with me at first, but then he forgave me.”

  “It is not the same,” Jesus answered. “I would have done anything, even given my life, in any fight to free my people, but my Father in heaven wants me to die in pain and shame. He will have my own people turn on me and then will cause their destruction after I am dead.”

  Arvigarus thought before responding. “If that is what he has been planning for you from the start, it is hard to see how he can do any worse to you.”

  Jesus smiled. “I had not thought of it that way.”

  “Stay in Britain, then. Think of all the great adventures we can have.”

  Jesus became serious again. “That stage of my life is over. For all my life, I have always felt connected to my Father in heaven, knowing he shares in all my joys. Now he wants to send me to a place I do not wish to go, and I feel adrift. The joys and pleasures of this world mean nothing to me now.”

  “I think I must be troubling you. I will go.”

  “Thank you, Arvigarus. It was good to talk with you. I need to pray for my cousin now.”

  The next day, Fergus arrived from Castle An Dinas to speak for the Dumnonii. Fergus, Arvigarus, and Elsigar, forming the tribunal, sat in three chairs that had been set side-by-side on a wooden platform built especially for Daniel’s trial. A crowd of local people gathered before the tribunal. Faces were terribly serious, reflecting the gravity of the situation. Daniel sat inside a wattle cage. Apparently it is not their procedure to let him speak in his own defense. Uncle Joseph stood at the rear of the crowd, listening silently with storm clouds in his eyes.

  Patiently, the tribunal heard everyone who had anything to say—everyone but Daniel. The riders from Bridget’s procession described in detail what had happened that day. When it was Jesus’s turn to speak, he argued fervently that everyone knew Daniel would never have committed these crimes of his own volition; they must have been the handiwork of the Devil. He testified how Daniel, as a prisoner, genuinely bewailed the crimes. “He is back to his former self,” Jesus claimed.

  The tribunal retired to a nearby house to consider its decision.

  Jesus could tell that for most in the crowd it was a simple case. They believed that Daniel was clearly guilty of murder, which called for the imposition of a slow, painful death. They grew impatient as minutes and then hours dragged by.

  Mary was the only one to stay near Daniel, who waited, closely guarded, in his cage. Mother is so kind. Look how courageous she is. If I allow the Romans to crucify me, it will be so much worse for her. How can I permit that to happen to her?

  Jesus walked up to Daniel frequently, trying to offer encouragement and hope. The situation is hopeless, but maybe I can distract Daniel from thinking about it. Maybe he will pray with me. This is so hard, but I promised I would be with him to the end.

  Uncle Joseph never approached Daniel, keeping his head down and talking to no one as he awaited the judgment.

  He keeps saying Daniel is no longer his son, but I know more than his pride is hurting. He looks as if he wants to be alone for now.

  It was early evening when the three members of the tribunal emerged from the house where they had been deliberating. They took their places on the platform, and Elsigar spoke for all the members: “We know that in the eyes of Jews we are barbaric pagans, but there is not one of us who does not wish to show mercy and compassion to this outlander accused of the dreadful
crimes of murder and brigandry. Grengan and I have seen him grow into manhood, and we know the truth in what Jesus said on his behalf. The prisoner has helped to bring prosperity to the people, and he risked his own life to help defend the freedom of the Dumnonii. Outlander that he is, and guilty as he is of horrible crimes, he has done much to prove himself a friend and a good person.

  “On the other hand, the law is clear, particularly in this sacred precinct of the Tor. The punishment for murder and brigandry is a slow and painful death. Only by enforcing these laws can we maintain the neutrality of this sacred precinct, which is so vital to the welfare of the people and to the proper worship of our gods at Samhain. In this case, the victim is a princess and ambassador of the king of the Belgae. If we show mercy to the prisoner, that king will rightly feel insulted and will certainly set about waging war against the Silures and the Dumnonii. If we impose our judgment today, we have to follow the law and impose the punishment of painful death. That execution is not as barbaric as those used by the so-called civilized Romans, but it is nonetheless a dreadful death by flame.

  “In our deliberations we decided to afford the prisoner a thread of hope. It is a thread so thin that we debated for several hours whether it would not be kinder just to end the matter here and now with that death sentence. The mercy we would show is not ours rightly to give. However, this matter is not only a crime against the Dumnonii and the Silures; it is also, of course, a crime against the king of the Belgae. We have decided to submit this case to him rather than decide it ourselves. Although he is unlikely to do so, he is the only one who can grant mercy. We leave at dawn tomorrow to bring the prisoner before King Aghamore. The prisoner’s family will come with us.”

  Joseph

  The journey was three days, a long horseback ride but not physically challenging. Grengan and Elsigar tried to spare the family any indignities as they passed the hillforts and villages. Elsigar made a point to send word to every settlement along the way that there was to be no jeering at the prisoner. Nonetheless, it was hard for Joseph to see the curious onlookers without a sense of shame for what his son had done. He is no longer any son of mine; he is dead to me. I already sat Shiva to mourn when he tried to rape the woman, but these people will not understand that. They will think all Jewish people are cutthroats and murderers. He has shamed all the Jewish people, and through them God Almighty.

  Halfway there, a runner arrived with word that King Aghamore would meet them at Stonehenge rather than his seat at the Sarum hillfort.

  Joseph spurred his horse alongside Elsigar’s. “Stonehenge is a pagan monument,” Joseph said. “I will not participate in a pagan ritual, even on pain of death.”

  “You have no reason for concern,” said Elsigar. “We are not monument builders, as you well know. We conduct our rituals in forest glens. We believe the Fir Bolg built the site before the Tuatha Dé Danann arrived in the Celtic lands. It is useful for tracking the seasons, and we preserve it out of respect for the earlier people. But it is no longer a place of worship.”

  “Then why meet there?”

  Elsigar shrugged. “Perhaps King Aghamore does not want your people in his home. Or perhaps he chose it because it’s easy to find.”

  The procession from Ynys Witrin found King Aghamore’s court arrayed across the field before Stonehenge. Several tents were set up on the near side of the field for the visitors, and everyone else busied themselves claiming their spots. Elsigar rode alone to the Belgae as the ambassador of the Dumnonii and the Silures.

  Joseph found a tent for Mary, Jesus, and himself. He moved his belongings in from the carts and then stayed inside, still feeling shame. Mary came and went frequently. Joseph did not ask where she had been; he assumed that she and Jesus were still attending to Daniel, and he did not want to hear that name spoken.

  The time for the evening meal approached. “Uncle, you should get something to eat,” Mary said. “You have not eaten for two days.”

  “I’ll eat whatever you bring,” he said, but she tugged his arm and dragged him outside.

  “I will not have you behave like an ungrateful guest,” she hissed. “Come see what they have done.”

  It was a strange affair. The Belgae had laid out food for the visitors, but were not joining in themselves. Joseph surmised that while the imminence of the execution dampened the customary Celtic enthusiasm for revelry, the occasion still called for the Belgae to extend their hospitality. Joseph passed by the meats and contented himself with a selection of savory cakes, vegetables, and cheese. While he ate, it occurred to him that he had not seen Jesus since their arrival.

  Grengan and Fergus joined Joseph at his table. Joseph nodded his greeting to them, and they kept to their silence, seeming to respect his desire to keep to himself. Joseph finished his meal and excused himself. He had not seen Jesus at the dining tables.

  Joseph walked toward the wattle cage where the guards still watched over Daniel. He wanted to check if Jesus was there, but he did not want to approach too near. He drew close enough to make out the figures of Mary and the guards, but not Jesus. Joseph returned to the tent.

  Sometime later—he knew not how long, for he was adrift in meditation—Mary poked her head in. “Are you hiding in here again?” She shook her head. “It is not like you to keep to yourself.”

  He sighed. “Have you seen Jesus?”

  “Not since he asked me to bring his things to the tent.” Mary studied him. “Will you come?”

  “How can I be sociable now?”

  She lowered her eyes, nodded, and left him alone.

  As night fell, Joseph heard Elsigar return. Mary came in a short time later. “They say the Belgae king is still at his seat at Sarum.”

  “That’s ten miles away,” Joseph said.

  “Elsigar had to ride there and back, but the arrangements have all been made. Aghamore will arrive early in the afternoon.”

  Then Grengan and Fergus will hand over Daniel for Aghamore’s judgment, and the king will hear from anyone who has anything to say. Which should include Jesus. But where is he?

  Just before dawn, Joseph was startled out of his restless sleep by Jesus entering the tent.

  “Where have you been? Your mother and I have been worried.”

  “Let us go outside so we do not awaken Mother.” Jesus led Joseph to a lonely campfire. The flames had died away, but the embers still glowed. Jesus placed another log on the fire. “I went to see King Aghamore. He received me after Elsigar left, but Elsigar does not know this.”

  “Why would you do that? The trial is not until tomorrow.”

  “I hoped to redeem Daniel’s life.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “As a child learning from the rabbi at Nazareth, I heard something about the laws under King Solomon. If a man is to be enslaved for debt, someone can redeem him from slavery by paying his debt. At Ynys Môn, I found the Celts have a broader provision under their laws. Anyone can go to the family of the victim of a crime and offer them a fine. If the fine is accepted, the prisoner must be freed.”

  “What happened between you and King Aghamore?”

  “He received me kindly, even when I told him my purpose in coming to see him. It gave me hope that I might persuade him. I told him of the goodness that I had always seen in Daniel, and then I offered him everything you put aside for Daniel and me all these years as the fine for the slaying of his daughter.”

  “Did he accept it?”

  “He said he died the day he heard of Bridget’s death. He said there is not enough money in the world to deny his daughter the justice she deserves.”

  “Was there anything else?”

  Jesus nodded as tears welled in his eyes. “I tried to tell him that all of us would give anything to bring his daughter back to him, but that executing Daniel would never restore her. He answered me so kindly, and then I knew my cause was hopeless. He said he was sorry for the loss of my cousin. I knew then that he was not acting because of any insult to his f
amily honor but out of love for his daughter, just as I wanted to save Daniel because of my love for him.”

  “You should not have done this. Daniel is no longer a member of this family. You had no right to interfere. Daniel’s fate is for the Britons to decide under their law.”

  “You have the right to say that Daniel is no longer your son, but he is still my cousin. He has been my best friend and constant companion ever since the day we left Galilee. Daniel succumbed to the Devil in a moment of weakness. The same weakness to desires affects all mortal men.”

  “Like all men, my son was free to choose between good and evil. He chose the path of evil, and he must now pay the consequences.”

  “On the night I was alone with my Father on the Tor, he said that through my death on the cross of crucifixion, I could redeem the whole world from sin. Did you hear that, Uncle? He said that my death would be the hope for redemption for everyone, not just the few, not just the strongest or the worthiest, but everyone. Daniel has always been a good and righteous man, until he fell into sin for one short period, for which he most sincerely repents. I have now done everything I can to redeem him.” Jesus gritted his teeth and clenched his hair in his hands. “If I cannot redeem just one righteous man, how can I possibly redeem the whole world?”

  “No one can know how God works his will. You are called to a great trial, Jesus, as much as any prophet of old. Did Jonah imagine that God would find a way to release him from the belly of that whale? I am sure Jonah thought his situation was as hopeless as you feel yours is right now, and yet God heard his voice and found the way to save him. I have lived all my life in obedience to God. You must decide for yourself if you will do the same.”

  Lucifer

  Once again, the Fallen One made his way to heaven to confront God the Father on his throne. “I see you still think you can trick me. You know that Jesus will never surrender himself to death for the love of you, and so you use his love for his cousin. You just used the Arimathean to extend him hope that his death might still redeem that cousin of his.”