Saviour

by Christopher Gallagher

  Jayne.

  Had to be.

  Me too, love.

  The funny thing was, he'd been thinking about her a lot in recent days, didn't know why. Months could go by when she didn’t enter his thoughts, then, for no apparent reason, she was there, muscling her way in.

  Another message beeped. Can we talk?

  Why now?

  She must have seen him on the media a lot over the past few years. Happen her new relationship had gone wrong. He sighed, knew he'd forgiven her, but wasn't sure they needed to talk about the past, rake it all up. It would be like taking a stick to a crystal clear pond, stirring the mud at the bottom, spoiling the water.

  Beep.

  It's Jayne.

  I know love. Peter blinked away his tears and threw the phone on the bed.

  ✝

  Richmond, Northumbria.

  Judas looked out the window again, for the third time in ten minutes, and wondered what the day would bring. Bit o' luck and they'd be set up in the Governor's residence this time tomorrow, Northumbria, theirs for the taking. Once Jesus was in charge, Judas would be Chancellor of the Exchequer. He was the logical choice. He’d be able to pay off his debts, repay the beating he'd received as well. Bastards. They'd been no need for that. He would have paid what he owed.

  But what if Jesus didn't take over. What then? What if it all turned to dust? How would he pay his debts without access to the treasury of the kingdom? He’d have to make a run for it, he thought, one option, Scotland. Another, Mercia. Lie low for a while.

  A horn beeped in the road. Jim, come to collect him. Peter had insisted they all travel to York together. Judas locked the door before joining Jim in the car.

  ✝

  York, Northumbria.

  Crowds, six deep in parts, lined the route into the capital. For the most part, they were content to wave little plastic Northumbrian flags, but at intervals, helium balloons bearing the face of Jesus bobbed above their heads. The vast crowd was kept in check by goodwill and the occasional Polizei officer who cheered along with the others. Drones hovered overhead, the pictures fed back to State Security HQ.

  'Jesus, Jesus, give us a wave...' The crowd sang as the open topped bus crawled towards the city centre. Jesus, front centre, upper deck, waved back, prompting a fresh wave of flowers to be thrown, some reaching the bus itself.

  'This is alright, isn't it?' Phil said, waving back.

  Jude the Dude grinned back. 'They love him. They absolutely love him.'

  The closer to the centre, the thicker the crowds, the bus now moving at a walking pace. The disciples, led by Peter, waved to the crowd, who responded by chanting their names in turn, followed by three quick claps.

  'It's like we've won the cup.' Tom laughed, when he heard his own name.

  'Here we go, here we go, here we go.' The people sang. The disciples grinned at each other, basked in the reflected glory, and joined in with the singing and chanting.

  'What happens when we get in?' Andrew asked his brother in a moment of relative quiet.

  'We storm the Temple, Governor's residence, take over, proclaim God's kingdom on earth.' Peter replied with a big grin.

  ‘You’re joking?' Andrew, sceptical. 'The Temple is God's house. It can't just be stormed like an ancient castle.' He looked around for support.

  John smirked. 'I think your brother's joking.'

  'Are you?' Andrew asked Peter.

  'Yes, brother. Of course I am.' Peter ran his hand through his hair, 'This is all surreal. It's down to the Boss what happens next, but I somehow doubt he'll be mounting a takeover. Not his style. Anyway, we might be met by a load o' uniforms and ordered to disperse. This could be as good as it gets. Enjoy it while you can.'

  He'd wondered whether he should tell Andrew or the Boss about his text from Jayne. Decided not at this stage, he didn't want to spoil the occasion.

  An impressive red carpet was waiting when they pulled up outside the Temple. A small Polizei presence along with Temple security guards in their distinctive orange Hi-Viz jackets held back the screaming crowds as Jesus and the disciples disembarked. A small girl presented Jesus with a posy of flowers. He took it, ruffled her hair, and blessed her while her mother beamed.

  Followers based in the capital came forward, greeted Jesus. 'Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord,' one said, 'peace in heaven, glory in the highest.'

  Pharisees in the crowd took exception, and rebuked those speaking in favour of Jesus.

  Jesus paused on the Temple steps. 'I tell you the truth, if they keep quiet, the paving stones along this road will call out.'

  For a second it looked as though the security guards would refuse access, but they parted at the last moment. Jesus entered the Temple courts followed by his disciples while the Pharisees muttered among themselves.

  ✝

  The Temple, York, Northumbria.

  The small but powerful Sanhedrin sub-committee was in session. Jesus the topic of discussion. There was consternation among the priests and Pharisees. The would be Messiah had rocked up to the Temple with his disciples, assorted hangers on, and done his usual trick of overturning tables and driving out the money changers. The honest traders selling doves were complaining. According to the account given by one of the security guards, Jesus claimed the Temple was being turned into a den of thieves.

  Caiaphas waved the guard away. He waited till the door closed behind him. 'Have you witnessed the crowds greeting him?' He said after a long moment. ‘Lining the streets, shouting, cheering. A vulgar spectacle.’

  O'Deamus, doodling on his pad looked up. 'He stopped on the way into the city, healed a blind man, and restored his sight.'

  'And?' Caiaphas demanded.

  O'Deamus shrugged. 'Just saying.'

  'Isn't that good?' Brotherton wondered.

  'Not if the power to heal comes from the devil.' Caiaphas retorted. 'This is the second time he has violated the sanctity of the Temple. This situation cannot be allowed to continue. He needs stopping. He needs stopping now. Any suggestions?’

  ‘We could have him killed.' One of the Pharisees said.

  ‘An excellent idea.’ Caiaphas laughed.

  ‘You are joking?’ O’Deamus looked appalled.

  Caiaphas shrugged. 'Would it be such a catastrophe?'

  'If he was the Messiah it would.' O'Deamus said.

  'But he's not, is he?’ Caiaphas snarled. ‘Hasn't that been a major plank of our opposition to him these last three years?'

  Silence, then O'Deamus asked, 'Do we need to go that far?'

  'Yes, I think we do.' Caiaphas said. 'Here is this man performing signs and wonders. He even raised his friend, Laz, from the dead. Sooner or later the Saxons will come to realise this man is hell bent on taking over, becoming the ruler. The people will support him. The FKU idiots will jump on the bandwagon. Then,' he paused, looked at them all in turn, 'then they'll be a terrible crackdown. The Saxons don’t like us Jews at the best of times. We're tolerated. We don't need to give them further reason to find fault with us.'

  A few people agreed, their voices strident, others were still undecided.

  'It seems so extreme.' O’Deamus objected.

  'Better that one die than the whole nation perish.' Caiaphas said.

  'That's right,' Brotherton jumped in, 'Who knows what might happen if the Saxons decide to crack down on us because of this man Jesus.'

  Caiaphas nodded. 'Look at it in a positive light.' He glanced round the table. 'As you know, Northumbria is by far the biggest population of Jews in the world. If Jesus dies, it will be for the good of the people, it might even be a rallying call for the scattered children of God to come home. Just imagine, the scattered tribes making their way across Europe, here to Northumbria.

  There was silence while they considered this prospect.

  'I vote we do it.' Brotherton said.

  Caiaphas nodded his approval. ''Are we all agreed?'

  Of the nine members, seven voted in favour
, O'Deamus, along

  with a man called Joseph, abstained.

  'Anyway,' Caiaphas concluded as the meeting broke up, 'if he's the Messiah, God won't let him die, will he? What father would stand aside, let his son be put to death and not intervene. It will be a good test. If God saves him, I'll acknowledge him as Messiah, and submit to his authority.'

  NINETEEN

  THE TEMPLE, YORK, NORTHUMBRIA.

  TUESDAY.

  Jesus and the disciples were back in the city early the next morning. Peter was amused to see the moneychangers and other traders had set up business outside the Temple walls. If Jesus noticed, he didn't comment. Once the gathered throng realised Jesus was in their midst, they surrounded him and he was soon teaching the pilgrims. A few of the disciples spent time talking with the many visitors to York. People who'd journeyed from all parts of the kingdom for the Passover, which was fast approaching. It was getting on for mid-morning when the Temple doors opened. A deputation of Pharisees and teachers of the law appeared. Jesus was speaking with a young woman when the group, led as usual by Brotherton, approached.

  Brotherton was about to speak when a glare from Peter silenced him. He waited until Jesus had blessed the woman, and then said, 'By what authority are you doing these things, Jesus?'

  'I will ask you one question,' Jesus replied, 'answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I act.'

  He looked at Brotherton and his followers.

  Brotherton nodded his acceptance.

  'John's baptism,' Jesus said, 'was it from heaven, or of human origin?' He looked at them expectantly.

  'We need to confer.' Brotherton replied. The disciples chuckled as he withdrew his group a short distance away while Jesus waited.

  'If we say from heaven,' a Scribe explained, 'he will ask why we didn't believe him.'

  Brotherton nodded in agreement. 'Whereas, if we say of human origin the people who did believe will kick off, because they believe Baptiste was a prophet sent by God.'

  The disciples watched with interest as the debate raged among the small group. After a fierce discussion, they made their way back to Jesus.

  'We don't know.' Brotherton admitted.

  Jesus smiled. 'Then neither will I tell you by what authority I act.'

  Apart from Peter, the disciples jeered as Brotherton and his band withdrew. Peter had been watching Brotherton. The guy didn't seem at all put out by Jesus’ refusal to divulge his authority. If anything, he seemed pleased. He had the air of one who knew secrets others don't know. 'Hypocrites.' He growled.

  'Watch out for the teachers of the law,' Jesus warned, 'they like to walk round in fancy sharp pressed suits. They expect to be greeted with respect wherever they go and have the most important seats in the synagogues and places of honour at the civic events.'

  'Like I say, Boss. Hypocrites.' Peter repeated.

  ✝

  Governor's Office, York, Northumbria.

  Pilate was amused. He shook his head. 'Not my problem. He's one of yours, Caiaphas.'

  The high priest sighed. He knew it wasn't going to be easy.

  'Jesus,' Pilate continued, 'is a religious concern, not a civil one.' He shrugged. 'He talks of spiritual kingdoms, not earthly ones. Anyway, I've got bigger concerns.'

  'FKU?' Caiaphas suggested.

  Pilate nodded, knew he had to be careful. The arrest of Beaumont and Bocus didn't diminish the threat posed by the terrorist organisation. There would be others to take their place. And there was the Wannsee Protocol to consider. It wouldn't be wise for Caiaphas to get a sniff of the plan to repatriate the Jews. It would be a massive undertaking, army units from Saxony would be required to help keep order. 'The FKU are a concern. They’re stepping up their activities and the Fuehrer is getting agitated.'

  'If...' Caiaphas hesitated, continued, 'if Jesus was found to be involved with FKU, would you act?'

  'Of course.' Pilate spread his arms wide. 'But he's not, is he? We're not stupid, Caiaphas. Jesus and his followers have been security vetted. They preach a message of love and peace. As much as you don't like them, they're not terrorists.'

  'If there were proof?' Caiaphas offered.

  'Bring me proof,' Pilate said, standing up, 'and I'll act on it.' He showed the high priest to the door, knew full well that proof would be found, and wondered what he'd do then.

  ✝

  The Temple, York, Northumbria.

  Later in the day, Brotherton and his coterie were back.

  'Jesus?'

  'Yes, Brotherton?'

  'I know you're a man of integrity,' Brotherton gave his companions a sly look. 'And that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. You aren't swayed by others, because you pay no attention to who they are.' Peter thought about hitting the man, knew he shouldn't, and resisted the temptation. He smiled at Jim who was miming vomiting. 'Tell us then,' Brotherton asked, 'is it right to pay taxes to the Union?'

  Jesus shook his head. 'You hypocrites, why are still trying to trap me?' He took a Euro coin from his pocket. 'Whose image is shown on the back?'

  'The Fuehrer's.' Brotherton replied.'

  'So give to the Fuehrer what is the Fuehrer's, and to God what is God's.'

  Peter grinned at the expression on Brotherton’s face. The Pharisee had been outwitted again.

  'Okay then, which is the greatest commandment in the law?' A Scribe asked.

  Peter had the distinct impression the Pharisees were getting desperate. They must know this stuff. Jesus had been preaching the same message for the last three years. He didn't seem to mind repeating himself, though. Maybe he thought it would stick sooner or later.

  'Love the lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind.' Jesus told his questioner. 'This is the first and greatest commandment, 'the second is, 'love your neighbour as yourself.'

  The small group of Pharisees clucked among themselves for a while, but soon disappeared. Jesus gathered the disciples a short distance away from the Temple doorway. He told them to watch the bowl where people placed their offerings of money. The disciples watched in interest as a steady stream of well-dressed, prominent people, dropped a Euro or two into the bowl. All of them looked to John as if they could afford more than they gave. There weren't many notes given.

  After thirty minutes or so a small, hunched back woman, dressed in rags, dropped two small cents into the collection, and limped away. 'You see that woman,' Jesus said, 'I tell you the truth, lads. That woman has given more than all the others. They gave out of their wealth. She gave out of her poverty and all she had to live on.'

  TWENTY

  THE TEMPLE, YORK, NORTHUMBRIA.

  WEDNESDAY.

  Brotherton stared out the window high on the front of the Temple. Down below a group of people clustered round Jesus and his band of followers. Brotherton seethed with righteous indignation. Caiaphas was right. He had to be stopped. Turning away from the window, he looked at Caiaphas. 'This plan of yours.'

  'Ours, my dear Brotherton.' Caiaphas smiled. 'This plan of ours.'

  'Yes, yes, ours.' Brotherton conceded. 'When will it be done?'

  'Soon.'

  'It needs to be done before the Sabbath begins. That means Friday at the latest.'

  'Of course.' Caiaphas soothed. 'It's all in hand.'

  'He'll need to be arrested.' Brotherton fretted. 'We've tried that before, and he's always slipped through our hands.'

  'God will deliver him to us.' With a little help, Caiaphas thought, didn't say.

  'And then?' Brotherton wondered.

  'Then what?'

  'How will he die?' Brotherton fretted. 'Who will kill him?'

  Caiaphas laughed. 'The Saxons will do it for us.'

  Brotherton frowned. 'Why would they do that?'

  'You need to stop worrying, Brotherton.' Caiaphas said. He was getting annoyed with the snivelling Pharisee. 'It's all taken care of. God will deliver him. The Saxons will dispose of him. That's all you need to know.'

 
; Brotherton nodded. It was better he didn't know the details.

  ✝

  A small group of tourists were admiring the Temple building, taking photos from every angle. One of them approached Jamie as the disciples were leaving the Temple courts, asked him to take a photo of him and his wife with the Temple in the background.

  'It's a lovely building,' Jamie remarked on re-joining the others, 'best looking building in all Northumbria.'

  'Best looking building in the four kingdoms.' Andrew protested.

  'The Union.' Simon chipped in.

  'I tell you what, lads,' Jesus interrupted, 'lovely building or not, not one stone will be left on top of another. Every one will be knocked down.'

  The disciples stopped joshing with each other, looked at Jesus, and realised he was serious.

  'When will this happen, Lord?' Peter asked.

  'And what will be the signs of your coming, and the end of the age?' Nathan added.

  They gathered round Jesus as he began speaking in a low voice. 'Watch out that no one deceives you.' Jesus told them. 'Many will come in my name claiming to be the Messiah. Many will be deceived. You will hear of wars, rumours of wars, but don't be alarmed. There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. Nation will rise against nation, kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes. These are the beginning of the birth pains.' He fell silent as a drone, silent, sinister, appeared a few metres away. It hovered above them, the black eye of the camera visible underneath. Music from the fun fair could be heard in the distance. 'I tell you the truth,' Jesus continued, 'this generation will not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away but my words will never pass away.'

  The drone moved off, watched by the disciples. Despite the warmth of the day, Andrew shivered.

  'Then, you will be handed over to be persecuted and put to death. You will be hated by all nations because of me. At that time, many will turn away from the faith. They will betray and hate each other. False prophets will appear and deceive many people. Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then,' Jesus snapped his fingers, 'the end will come.'