Fifth Gospel: A Novel (Rosicrucian Quartet) Paperback

by Adriana Koulias

  ‘Oh my! This is the Mother of God!’ I said to Lea, ‘This is how the Sophia of our faith, the Sophia of the Greeks and the Gnostics, is one with the Mary of the Catholics!’

  ‘Yes, pairé,’ she said simply. In her eye there was a look I had seen before, the look of a mother observing a child experiencing the simple joy of discovery.

  34

  A GOOD WIFE

  As Claudia Procula entered the large court on her husband’s arm she sensed his muscles tense.

  This night he wore a red cloak over the insignia of his military office, and it did much to temper the paleness of his face, held in check to appear calm and relaxed. She watched him scan the open court of the praetorium, decorated with plump cushions and silks, lighted candles and flowers. Beyond it the sun was setting and a hint of coolness had come to rescue the heat of the day. All seemed harmonious. Only Claudia knew the reason for her husband’s discomfiture and perhaps, because of it, she walked beside him with calm and poise, her back straight, her chin raised so as to accentuate the length of the neck, the curvature of the cheeks and the groomed hair that cascaded in browns over gold combs.

  She had chosen a regal dress that moved in long volumes of white and yellow silk around her legs. There was no jewellery to accompany it, save a necklace of gold, a present from her grandfather, Caesar Augustus. Yes, Claudia was a creature of politics, accustomed to intrigues and machinations, and she knew she must not seem grand, she must exude a simple grace and charm, and her smile must make even the most difficult person melt to the soles of his sandals.

  For this was an important night.

  The previous week, after a disturbance at the Temple, her husband had cancelled his family’s return to Caesarea. He wasted no time in dispatching messages to Herod Antipas and the High Priests, requiring them to attend a banquet, over which they would discuss the disturbance. This would not only redress the imbalance of power, which had existed since his posting to Judea, but it would also give him the opportunity he had long sought, to see what friendship and alliance, if any, existed between priests and king.

  Claudia had made it her personal task to see to all the practical arrangements and had spent the entire week before the banquet attending to the smallest detail. She had the praetorium appropriately cleansed of idols and representations of the gods of Rome. In her kitchen, Roman cooks and servants were traded for Jew counterparts, and all utensils, dishes and trays, everything down to the smallest knife, was discarded and bought anew to ensure no unintentional contamination by forbidden substances. She allowed a handful of priests to come then, to inspect every corner of her home for anything that might be seen as unclean – anything that might contradict Hebrew law. In truth, it had been a monumental task, for even their son’s playthings had to be removed from the house, lest they injure the priest’s sensibilities. But she understood the reason for these measures. She did not wish to give any opportunity to those who would cast her husband in the mould of a man insensitive and dishonourable, a desecrator of Hebrew law, and a hater of the people of Israel.

  Now, as her husband led her to the tables where sat their guests, she greeted them cordially and gave a command for the servants to bring in the food: the best fish cooked in garlic and spices, fried locusts, fresh vegetables and fruits, pastries and sweetmeats. One servant after another came and went, serving food and pouring Galilean and Judean wine, while from the galleries wafted the sounds of drums and flutes.

  The high priest Caiaphas sat at the table on her right. The short, portly man was too small for his garments and his towering mitre, which threatened to topple from his head. He sat scratching his back and looking discomforted, as if he had left something of himself behind at the Temple and would now need to return for it. Beside him sat another priest, a taller and thinner man, who appeared to be the senior of the two. His sour-eyes were those of a man who is dragged to a place foul and suspicious, fraught with hidden desecrations.

  Conversely, on the table to Claudia’s left, the family of Herod were to the priests like night is to day. Herodias, entirely dressed in red, seemed comfortable and confident, and nodded with an air of amusement in Claudia’s direction. Claudia returned the nod with cool urbanity, acknowledging also Herod Antipas, wearing robes of Murex purple threaded with gold. He sat between his wife and Salome, his stepdaughter, who was adorned in a silken dress of azure blue embroidered with silver. She appeared the opposite of her name, for there was nothing tranquil about her. When her eyes touched on Claudia the impression they made was of stagnant ponds full of insects. Her mouth was curled in scorn, as if Claudia had been a promise of entertainment, which had failed to meet with her approval. Claudia, for her part, ignored it.

  A Roman citizen in the provinces had to endure the contempt and hidden hatred of the conquered peoples. However, nowhere was it seen more openly and plain to the eye than in Judea, where the Jews considered themselves the chosen ones, while all other men they deemed heretics, heathens and idolaters. Against this, she reminded herself: that Herod was disdained by his own people for not being a pure Jew, that his marriage to Herodias was unlawful, and that rumours abounded of his lust for his stepdaughter.

  She turned her eyes to the priests. They also despised Rome but on principle only, for they had grown fat and wealthy on power and indulgences which had come to them through peace and the quelling of revolt. Having measured disdain against advantage they had found it wanting.

  This group might be displeased at being forced to come to the house of an idolater, but neither Herod nor his priests would risk insulting a prefect of Caesar, at least not to his face.

  To her mind, these were not real Jews, those she had, time and again, encountered in the streets of Jerusalem. For it was her habit to revel in the colour, the noise, and the smells of the places she lived whenever it pleased her, and she thought nothing of speaking with the local women in their own language, eating their food, and delighting in their children. After all, were women and children not the same in every place? Differences existed only in a man’s world. This was her first philosophy.

  Her husband did not understand her adventurous nature, and often scolded her for her foolhardiness. She always listened and promised to be more cautious and yet the world, again and again, enticed her. In the end, her husband had ordered a man to follow her every move, which would have annoyed her had the centurion not provided her with entertainment. Having sensed that his eyes worked poorly, she toyed with him, hiding in the crowds, or in dark corners, deriving an unusual pleasure from the frustration and bewilderment of a hardened soldier over so small a thing as a woman’s whim. No, she did not take danger seriously, for she did not wish ill on any person, and it did not seem possible that ill would come to one who wished only good.

  Ill attracts ill. This was her second philosophy.

  During the meal, a mood of introspection descended over the group, and it was only some way into it that the conversation turned to the matter at hand, the occurrence during the Paschal week, which had so raised the ire of the priests and caused a stir among the Jews.

  ‘I want to know something of this man, Jesus. How can he so easily create havoc in my city?’ her husband asked.

  Caiaphas’ face turned quizzical. ‘Why do you bother with an insignificant man like him? He is only a follower, not a leader…’

  Her husband kept his tone polite, but she could tell that impatience lay beneath his words, ‘Insignificant? So insignificant that he can enter the Temple and threaten its priests and moneychangers? This would not happen in Rome, I assure you. Who is his leader?’

  ‘John the Baptist, the blasphemer!’ Ananias said, ‘But don’t be fooled, it is my estimation that this man from Nazareth may yet cause havoc for us.’

  Her husband moved a cold eye to the other priest. ‘I repeat my question therefore, who is he?’

  A shiver seemed to whisk through Caiaphas. Claudia realised the two priests were joined but in conflict, for beneath their common purpos
e there ran a longstanding quarrel of opinion.

  ‘When I mean he is insignificant,’ Caiaphas said, ‘it is because he is of the line of David…a descendant from David’s son, Nathan, and not from his other son, Solomon.’

  Pontius paused, awaiting elucidation. When it did not come, he leaned forward and said, ‘Well? What does this mean, not from Solomon?’

  Caiaphas was the model of paternal indulgence. ‘I beg your pardon, Governor,’ he said, ‘of course…how could you know? King David had two notable sons, Solomon and Nathan. You see, to Solomon he gave the kingdom, to Nathan, the priesthood.’

  ‘So?’ her husband said, looking from one priest to the other. ‘What of it?’

  ‘If Jesus of Nazareth had been born in Bethlehem, of the lineage of Solomon,’ Ananias said, ‘well, procurator, Caesar would have much to worry from such a man…for he might be the expected king…the Son of Man, destined to bring the Kingdom of God to Israel, and to resurrect its power!’

  Her husband seemed puzzled. ‘So…this is your Messiah, the man from the line of Solomon?’

  Herod turned from his task of enticing Salome with fruits, since something in the conversation had caught his attention. ‘Solomon…Nathan…The sun that falls on Israel breeds prophets like weeds, procurator! They spring up all over the place, telling of a Messiah who will come to put the poor in the place of rich, and the rich in place of poor; to topple kings and to bring about a consolation of all of Israel’s troubles. And if the Sicarri are to be believed, he will do it by taking for himself Caesar’s crown. But, as it is said, that he will come from Bethlehem you have nothing to fear from this man, Jesus of Nazareth. It is well known, no good has ever come out of Nazareth! In my opinion he is only a harmless madman!’ He flashed a condescending smile.

  ‘Your father was a madman…’ Pontius pointed out. ‘Would you have called him harmless…?’

  Herod’s smile grew less big.

  Caiaphas seemed amused by this exchange, or perhaps it was the terrible Galilean wine, which had begun to work its wonders on him, for when he spoke now his voice was indulgent and calm. ‘Let us not waste time on the Messiah…but rather, direct our faculties to what we are to do about the troublemaker, John the Baptist…already he has aroused people to burn idols, and to ransack the houses of the pagans. Who knows what they will do next? Jesus of Nazareth is only one, out of thousands of followers!’

  Ananias’ temper was grimly cast by the light of his fellow’s merriness. ‘Yes, Caiaphas, but don’t forget, Jesus of Nazareth has Zealots…members of the Sicarri who travel in his train…men who may be using him to incite sedition against Rome!’

  Her husband leaned back, seemingly mining for wisdom in his wine cup. When he looked up, there was a fire in his eyes. ‘I do not need to look far to see conspirators, one fool tells me he is harmless, and the other fool tells me he is a danger!’ He set his wine cup down loudly and made them bend before the wind of his anger. ‘I do not know whom or what to believe, in this cursed place!’ He gathered to himself a measure of restraint before adding, ‘What is the name of the man who inspires Jesus of Nazareth, again?’

  Ananias, having weathered the storm better than his younger counterpart, said, ‘John the Baptist, procurator.’

  Herodias would add her own part to this and sat forward. Her entire mien was autocratic and impatient. ‘I was insulted by that man! He is an animal, a degenerate and an insurrectionist. Someone should arrest him and have him executed!’ She threw her husband a significant eye.

  Her daughter laughed and said, ‘Poor stepfather! Your people hate you and so you are jealous of this man who is loved. In truth, you would kill the man for this alone, were it not for the hope that he could cure you of your father’s curse!’

  ‘Salome!’ Herod said to her, in vacuous astonishment.

  She ignored him and continued, ‘But in my opinion, you should be more afraid of my mother…who is a witch, and can turn a man into a toad!’

  ‘Shut up, Salome! Have you no shame?’ Herodias barked.

  Claudia saw a spark move from daughter to mother, mother to husband and back again, in a triumvirate of disdain, dislike and discomfiture.

  Herod took to being cheerful and clapped his hands. ‘Salome, my dear, why don’t you delight us with a dance!’

  Salome narrowed her eyes and shook her head. ‘No, I should think not.’

  Unabashed he enticed her further, ‘Our hosts have not seen your marvellous dances! Your twists and turns that defy the eye! Music!’ he shouted, ‘Music!’

  The Jew musicians paused their present song, and after a momentary hesitation, began a hurried tune with cymbals and drums.

  Salome’s face moved in a snarl. ‘I said, no!’

  Herod shot fire from his eyes at his wife. ‘Herodias, your daughter does not mind her father!’

  ‘That, husband, is because you are not her father,’ she reminded him.

  There was an awkward silence, in which Herod’s face bloomed, and he drank down a gulp of wine to flush down the sting of his wife’s words.

  In the meantime, an opportunity arose for the conversation to return to the subject at hand. Caiaphas was the first to take it and interpolated a clearing of the throat before saying, ‘The Sanhedrin has decided that Herod should seize John the Baptist when he comes next to that part of the Jordan which falls under his jurisdiction. Rome need not stain her brow with concern.’

  Pontius, still contemplating Herod’s family squabble, took a moment to register these words. ‘On what charge?’

  ‘No charge…’ Herod gave his part. ‘First the council will hear what the man has to say, it will consult the law and make its decision.’

  Caiaphas oiled his sharp voice on the tip of his tongue, ‘The point is,’ he said, ‘that you should not waste another moment on this matter.’

  Pontius turned the wine in his cup around and around and around. ‘If you seize him it will lead to unrest, perhaps even a revolt…didn’t you say he has thousands of followers?’

  ‘The arrest will be carried out quietly,’ Caiaphas assured him, ‘without fuss or spectacle. Besides, what Jew would contest the power of the Sanhedrin and risk excommunication?’

  Claudia’s husband set down his cup, he did not look convinced. He said, almost to himself, ‘Well, for my part, I will send someone to follow this Jesus of Nazareth. I am of a mind to think him more important than this John the Baptiser, whom I consider not yet a matter for Rome. I will not interfere with what you do with him so long as it is quiet. But mark well what I say,’ he looked at them with pointed eyes. ‘If I smell the slightest whiff of zealotry or hear the smallest whisper of an uprising, I shall send a message to the Governor of Syria calling for a sea of Roman Legions and Israel will again suffer the wrath of Rome. Who knows what reprisals shall then befall the likes of aberrant kings and suspect priests?’

  These words quickened fear in the hearts of the ignoble guests and soon they were thanking their hosts and making their hasty exits.

  Claudia was relieved, for they seemed to take a pall of evil with them. For his part, her husband called for his primus pilus, Cassius Longinus, his senior centurion and adviser. This was that same man who followed her when she ventured into the streets. Now, from the shadows, Claudia heard Pontius tell Cassius to look for the man called Jesus of Nazareth, and to report back to him on the man’s doings.

  That night Claudia was troubled in her sleep. She dreamt strange dreams in which the faces of the priests and Herod and Salome came and went and in which the name Jesus of Nazareth was repeated over and over.

  In the morning when she woke she knew she had to do something. So she took herself to the fortress of Antonia, to that centurion and informed him that she wished to accompany him on his journeys to the whereabouts of the man, Jesus of Nazareth. The Centurion, dumbstruck by this request, did not know how to answer.

  For her part Claudia considered his silence his affirmative reply.

  35

&nbs
p; THE ARREST

  It was midsummer, the sun would soon begin its diminishing days and John was not surprised to see Christ Jesus come again to Ainon.

  Followed by his disciple he remained a time with him and they kept a quiet company. Moon after moon passed, sun-full days, rain-full days, sitting in the huts or by the hearth. The two men had no need for words for their hearts conversed in the silence, and in those moments John basked in the heart-light that lived in Jesus, and let his own, overgrown heart, retreat little by little into the horizon of his soul.

  Some of Christ Jesus’ disciples had taken to baptising along the Jordan and he had gone with them. John’s followers approached him saying that these men were upstarts, and would take from him his doings. John told them that it was right and fitting for soon he would no longer be among them. When he said it out loud however, a deep, inconsolable sadness struck him. It was true, he was not destined to walk side by side with the long awaited one! He would not hear His words, or share His meals or sleep under the stars with Him for long. This is what it meant to stay behind and to diminish!

  On a day when the sun-drenched land bore the last heat-throws before winter, a great portion of Herod’s army arrived to take John by force. The multitudes that were gathered around him made to prevent it, but John admonished his followers not to defend his person but to go to Christ Jesus instead, for his time was over.

  After that, John allowed himself to be seized by the guards, and gave his hands to be clapped into chains like an animal. He braced his heart, for they were headed across the river and over the old roads to Herod’s country of Perea.

  He knew this road. It was the way to the fortress called Machareus.

  36

  THE LORD OF THE SABBATH

  Jesus taught in the synagogues. He walked up and down the countryside speaking to those who lived in the areas outside the larger towns in Galilee. In the evenings, when the sun was blood red and a shiver of light stood on the horizon, he preferred to go to places where he could heal those who came to him and where he could cast out the devils that lived in the souls of the weak.