Fifth Gospel: A Novel (Rosicrucian Quartet) Paperback

by Adriana Koulias

  When it was over she realised the crowd had moved on through the gates and the other women were crowded around her. Her eyes moved over them, each face creased with pain and panic. A soothing calmness came into her voice, ‘Be consoled my little ones…we are not alone...’ she told them.

  62

  TRIALS AND VISIONS

  The stepbrother of Jesus was asleep in the sanctuary of the Temple. Before that he had spent the hours since the Paschal feast on his knees communing with God and in contemplation of his destiny.

  Years ago after his baptism in the Jordan, Jacob son of Mariam, had let go of the power of his inherited birth right and had wandered the land like a fish without a sea, not belonging to any place. The corrupt priests and hypocritical rabbis of the temple could not draw him to their side and he did not feel at ease with the Essenes, though they welcomed him always in their outer circles. He did not even consider himself a Nazarite in the strictest sense, and so could not call himself a true follower of John the Baptist.

  He was a man in search of a spirit home.

  As the years passed conflicting words had reached him concerning his stepbrother. He had heard of John the Baptist’s testimony and rumours had abounded of Jesus’ healings and his exorcisms, his sermons and signs. Other rumours told that his stepbrother was a magician, a sorcerer ruled by devils, that he had broken the laws of their forefathers, that he had blasphemed and desecrated the Sabbath.

  For his part Jacob had kept himself aloof from all of it, not wishing to know what truth there might be to one or other rumour. That is, until the Paschal week.

  Of late Jacob had come to Jerusalem to celebrate the holy day and to unite with the heart of his people. He was tattered and thin after long months of wandering through the land, long months of punishing his body with fasting and prayer, and had sought a place to rest his head. But here, in Jerusalem, he could not avoid his stepbrother, who seemed to be everywhere, speaking out against the priests in one place, condemning the rituals of the temple in another. Making more and more enemies as each day came, not only in the Sanhedrin but also among the people.

  He had not seen Jesus since that afternoon at Nazareth those years ago and on hearing him in Jerusalem these last days it had been hard to imagine him the same man, so strong and full of authority was his mien and so powerful were his words. Yes. His baptism and those years of wandering had made Jacob’s ears sensitive and discerning, and he heard the ring of truth in his stepbrother’s voice and over the holy days this had formed in him a question.

  After all this time, and after all the wanderings and painful prayers…do I now realise that I have been in search of something, which I have always known?

  On the eve of the Paschal feast he took himself to the house given over to the Essenes where he knew his family would be celebrating the Pascha. He took the steps that led from the outside of the house up to the cenacle, the upper room lit by candles, but when he came to be standing beneath the lintel, not quite in view and yet at the threshold of the room, he was taken by incertitude. In his heart something told him that the circle around his stepbrother was closed and that there was no room for him. He was overcome with a feeling of grief for it and had decided to go, when a man he recognised, one of his stepbrother’s disciples, brushed past him making for the stairs. He had seen him at the temple, speaking to the priests. His name was Judas Iscariot, wild-eyed and taken by his thoughts he did not excuse himself but continued on into the darkness.

  Disconcerted, Jacob had made his way to the temple where he waited in the cold, awful wind for the gates to open to allow those enter who were in charge of preparing the morning offering of the Chagigah. In the court of the Nazarites he kneeled, and alone and confused, fell to sleep until he was disturbed by the sounds of the bleating of the animals and a great commotion.

  As he came out into the streets to see what had caused it, he realised that he had slept long, for the night was near given over to the green light of morning. A great crowd had gathered at the palace of Caiaphas. Many stood beneath lamps and torches and he went to them.

  The pregnant moon hung in the west as he made his way through the outer court and into the inner court of the palace. He looked about for anyone he knew.

  ‘What has passed?’ he asked a man.

  ‘The heretic Jesus of Nazareth is seized and stands trial,’ the man answered.

  With a vacant nod Jacob glanced about at a number of men huddled around a coal fire in the middle of the court. The glow of the fire’s blue flame threw shadows over a face he recognised, another of his stepbrother’s disciples. Jacob went to him but when he came near he heard a Levite say to the man, ‘Are you not Simon-Peter, one of those who followed Jesus, the heretic?’

  The disciple buried his face in his wool robe and said, ‘No…I am not!’

  ‘Yes, I saw you at the Garden!’ another Temple guard added.

  ‘No! I tell you, you are wrong!’

  ‘He lies!’ said a woman nearby. ‘I have seen him with the Nazarene!’

  He turned on the woman, ‘I do not know what you are saying, addled woman! For I know not the man! Leave me be!’

  A cock crowed then and perturbed by it, the disciple hunched his shoulders and ran off into the crowds.

  Jacob did not go after him, he continued on to the palace where he was recognised and allowed passage. Once inside the great rectangular hall surrounded by columns he searched among the many faces. The torches flapped in the breeze and in that cold light he saw no face he recognised. A great uproar was heard coming from the front of the hall, where on the raised platform sat the high priest, Caiaphas, among members of the Sanhedrin. From what Jacob could see there were only just enough men present to make a quorum, that is, twenty-three priests and rabbis, in a half circle formed by seats. As he made a way through the crowds he realised that the man who stood before these elders, surrounded by his accusers, was his stepbrother.

  What had become of him since the supper in the cenacle made Jacob take a deep breath. Nothing could have prepared him for what now met his eyes. His stepbrother was a battered man, leaning to one side, with one eye bruised and the other squinting away at the blood that oozed from cuts to his scalp and his forehead. His nose was broken, his lips were swollen and he shook from his head to his bare feet, for his garments had been torn from his body and his hands were trussed up before him like an animal ready for the slaughterhouse.

  A rising up of indignation was caught in his throat and his eyes filled with tears. He looked about for a support and found a column and leaning against it, transfixed, he watched and listened while the room erupted in screams for his brother’s blood.

  Caiaphas was speaking to Jesus from his grand position on the dais, ‘Witnesses have heard your words, which make of you a defiler and a seducer and a heretic!’

  Jesus did not answer.

  One by one came the accusers came to shout out their charges and claims.

  ‘He said he would destroy the Temple, and rebuild it in three days!’

  ‘But he did not say he would build it with his hands!’

  ‘He calls himself the Son of Man!’

  ‘No! He says he is the Son of God!’

  ‘But he heals the sick, and he casts out demons! Is this not a holy man, who can do this?’

  ‘He might cure the sick but he does it on a Sabbath!’

  ‘He casts out demons because he is a demon himself and he is in league with them!’

  ‘He teaches false doctrines!’

  ‘He does not wash his hands before he breaks bread!’

  ‘But he speaks of peace and love and breaks bread with the poor!’

  ‘Yet he has members of the Sicarri as his disciples!’

  These contradictions fell into a confused rabble of voices.

  Jacob saw the well-respected member of the Sanhedrin Nicodemus enter the fray followed by Gamaliel and Joseph of Arimathea.

  Nicodemus came up to the horseshoe of gathered men and said, �
��Why have you called this council without us? This meeting is not lawful! There has not been proper notice and an attendance of all the members of the council!’

  The people grew quiet.

  Gamaliel pointed to Caiaphas and added his own words, ‘You have tried to prevent those of us who do not agree with you from being here! Such a trial conducted in haste while many of the council are preparing this morning for the ceremony is not legal!’

  Joseph was angry. ‘Where is the passage in the law that approves of trying a cause at night and so close to a feast day!’

  Caiaphas stood and came forward with a scornful eye. ‘My colleagues, it was not our intention to exclude you but we had to act quickly. If we had not seized this heretic and stopped him from inciting the people to rebellion the Romans would have done so and caused grief to the temple and to Israel!’

  ‘But these accusations only show the confusion of your witnesses, for they bear no proof of his wrongdoing!’ Nicodemus said to him.

  ‘Well then!’ said Caiaphas, coming up to Jesus. ‘Let the man say something himself!’

  But there was only silence from Jesus.

  ‘Why do you not give answer to these accusations?’ Caiaphas taunted, ‘I adjure you to tell us if you are Christ, the Messiah, the son of the living God!’

  When the voice came Jacob recognised no authority in it, it was the voice of a man, not the voice of a god, ‘If I tell you that I am he, you will not believe me…and if I ask you who you think that I am you will not answer me, nor let me go…no matter what I say, I am condemned.’

  ‘Are you the Son of God?’ the high priest asked.

  ‘This is a question which only you can answer,’ Jesus said. ‘For it only has value if you, yourself, can see the God in me. But I tell you, one day all will see the Son of Man, sitting on the right hand of the power of God coming in the ether-cloud realms of heaven. Then, you will know that I am He!’

  He knew in his heart that Jesus was speaking the truth! But he was torn from the vision by terrible words:

  ‘Giddupha! Blasphemy!’

  He realised that Caiaphas had a blade in his hand. ‘Blasphemy and sedition!!!’ the man said, and took up the corner of his outer and his inner garment, and made a tear from top to bottom renting both. ‘What further need have we of witnesses! Now all of you have heard it for yourselves – with your own ears! What say you to this,’ he said to the crowds, ‘for life or for death?’

  The hall resounded with such fierceness, that it near reached heaven.

  ‘Death! Death! Death!’ was the chant.

  ‘No!’ Gamaliel cried, outraged. ‘A capital sentence is not legal unless it is pronounced at a regular meeting of the Sanhedrin!’

  But no one heard him. The priests were already coming off their dais. Each man took his turn to spit into Jesus’ face or to hit him with a staff or to slap him with a hand before leaving the court.

  Jacob’s soul welled up with anger and he spoke out,

  ‘The golden band on your mitre has the graven words, “Holiness unto Jehovah”! It means you have the power to atone for those who blaspheme!’

  There was a breathless pause.

  The cold, fierce gaze of the high priest moved over the crowd until it fell on him.

  ‘I will not atone for a man who profanes the name of God, again and again!’ Caiaphas raised his staff and looked to the vaults of the hall. ‘I–will–not!’

  A terrible draft, unearthly and cruel, washed over the room, and Jacob saw shadows, and shadows of shadows, sweep over all gathered there. Like malignant birds borne by an unfelt wind they fluttered and he saw with his own eyes how these shades were inspired into the very souls of those present to entice them to rise up in a high pitch of hate and rage, so that snarling, like one great rabid animal, the throng moved on Jesus.

  Caiaphas shouted out over the din, ‘Put this king in the dungeon until he is delivered to Rome, for only Rome can render him what he is due!’

  By the time the members of the council had left the tribunal the crowds had descended upon Jesus and were revelling in trampling upon the fallen greatness of the man they had welcomed to Jerusalem like a king only a few days before. He was clubbed and beaten with fists and insulted and hit with staves and in the midst of this brutality, this coarseness and ferocity and profanity, he fell, and was swallowed up by the crowds and Jacob saw him no more.

  Jacob was aghast. The representatives of the highest human knowledge in Jerusalem had failed to see the Messiah of their people! But he was soon reminded of that peaceful morning when, looking into Joseph’s workshop, the image of his brother had surfaced on the face of Jesus, and he had not wished to see that Jesus was really one with his brother.

  Was he any better than these men?

  And so it was. On that terror-full night, when all hell was let loose on the world, Jacob finally found the purpose of his life and his spirit home…

  And it had come too late.

  63

  WAGES OF SIN

  Judas was present during the trial in the palace of Caiaphas. Among the crowds he watched and listened and clasped that bag of silver tight to his chest, talking to himself and making strange gestures in the air. Divergent thoughts flitted like phantoms across his mind and fought for dominion over his reason. He considered them his unruly companions.

  He looked for Magdalena and found her with her brother and the stepmother of Jesus. Her sorrowing face told him that she was in that agony he had prepared for her, and he was glad for it. He was glad for it all, for the screaming of the masses and the abuses of his master and the hooting of laughter and derision.

  Glad.

  And yet not glad!

  For a small voice now began to take from him his gladness.

  Look scorpizein! Look at what you have made! You will long be remembered! Yes…your name will be a curse on every man’s lips!

  He shooed the thought away – a dirty insect of a thought it was.

  Betrayer!

  He took a swipe at it.

  Lover of demons.

  He cowered.

  All faces seemed now to bear down on him, their countenances full of strangely distorted grimaces and frowns.

  They accused him with their stares and pointed at him with grimaces.

  This is the one! Look at him!

  He felt disordered, broken into a thousand pieces, all of them ugly and disfigured, rotten, despoiled and shrivelled up. His soul was eaten to the nub. He could smell the stench of his own decay, the putrid manure of his being. He looked at his hands and the skin began to split apart to reveal maggots, maggots and flies were everywhere around him. He swatted them. His breathing grew quick but he could not catch air for the flies trying to enter into his mouth. Round and round was his head turned by voices. Too many people, too many fingers pointing, too much whispering, too many maggots and flies!

  He stumbled out of the palace, through the courts and out to the streets where the wind pursued him like furies. It caught his garments and pulled at his hair and poked at his eyes. The wind entered into his head and moved about in his mind. The wind was a woman, as cold as the Pascha moon, as cold as death. It was a dead hag looking for living things to kill. It was a pale virgin trembling with wrath. It was a demon with sharp talons and long teeth and yet, with skin as soft as a lover’s bare breast! It was a phantom, come to devour his soul and if it so desired it he would freely give it! For the wind was Magdalena! Beautiful, cruel Magdalena! And when she shrieked her vengeance upon him he heard the sound of a thousand birds and there came a vision of them feasting on the carrion meat on his bones.

  He ran out of the city and found a cave in which to hide. With his head between his knees and his hands to his ears he fell into a fitful sleep.

  When he woke the sun was up and the streets were quiet. He betook himself to the temple, to where he knew the priests would be preparing for the morning ritual. He ran, slipping and falling on the smooth marble steps. He saw some members of the
council conferring in the court of the Gentiles and went to them. Frantic he tore the bag of silver from his belt. He was a child, weeping for the breast, weeping for a father’s approving glance.

  ‘Take it back!’ he pleaded, ‘Take back your dirty silver…release him! I have sold innocent blood!’

  But the faces of the priests were turned into the faces of hellish imps, frowning through the folds of flesh at him.

  They seemed both annoyed and amused, both fascinated and revolted.

  ‘What have we to do with your sin? If you think you have sold innocent blood that is your own affair! You have earned your wages this night for Jesus is already judged guilty and today will be crucified. Now go on your way, before you defile us!’

  Horror struck a note of discord in his spine, and clutching the bag close he turned his dismal mind to what he should do. It came then, the thought, and he took to his heels. He went through the courts of the Gentiles, over the steps and through the Beautiful Gates to the Court of the Women and onwards to the Courts of Israel making for the sanctuary, where was situated the altar and the Holy of Holies.

  ‘Stop!’ he heard voices echo behind him.

  But he did not stop. He ran past the incensed Levites, escaping their clutches until he came to the boundary that separated the Court of Israel from the pavement of the sanctuary. Here he flung the bag with all his might and it burst open and the coins toppled onto the marble pavement.

  He took the thirty pieces of silver, and cast them to the potter, in the house of the Lord!

  After that he ran with heaven and earth slipping from his grasp.

  May the devil stand at his right hand; when he is judged may he go out condemned!

  There was no escape, no help, no counsel and no hope!

  Where should he go? There was a moment of incertitude and then a voice told him,

  Go to the valley of Hinnon.

  He turned and ran, gulping for air, over the bridge that crossed the torrents of the Kidron, across the valley and up the steep sides of the mountain to the potter’s field.