"It's not up to me. You hold the power."
"Fine. You can trust me. You have my signature. Jude will pay you in full. I swear the Teacher will be in the Holy City for the Great Festival. You can count on me."
"Once you're there, we'll need to know his exact whereabouts. Jude knows the details."
"Whatever you want," I say, glaring hard at the photo of Maria.
Dr. Stone looks at the picture. "She's a beautiful woman. I see why you've fallen so hard, even if she's been had by many, many men. I've known her for years. It was me who denied her visa." I don't look up from the photo or respond to Dr. Stone, but I know she's smiling. "But do you know what's really interesting, Deacon? In all the time I've known her, I don't believe I've ever seen her happier than she is in that photo."
Dr. Stone taps her long fingernails on the glossy photo and laughs again.
'm back in the countryside before sunset.
In the twilight I discover the largest group yet. Thousands have come to hear the Teacher. As I wade through the crowds, I hear people gossiping about him. Many praise the Teacher, calling him the true messiah, come at long last. Others debate whether his power comes from the one true God or the Evil One. Still others are confused, or curious to catch a glimpse of the man who performs many inexplicable deeds.
It takes another hour before I reach the twelve students and the Teacher. That's how large the crowd has become.
When I finally arrive, people are bringing small children to the Teacher so he might touch them with a blessing. But Petra and Jude push the parents away, trying to protect the Teacher from this crowd that could easily morph into a dangerous mob. It's an unsafe scene. The Teacher has many enemies, and more religious authorities are gathered here than ever before. Their hatred for the Teacher is written across their faces; it's no longer enough that he be silenced. They seem to wish something far more sinister to befall him.
When the Teacher realizes what Petra and Miles are doing, he becomes indignant. "Let the little children come to me!" he cries out. "Do not stop them, for it is such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever doesn't receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it."
Petra and Miles obediently stand down, which allows the children to break free and run recklessly toward the Teacher, tiny arms flailing, laughter rising high in the air. The Teacher swoops them in his arms and lifts them up for all to see. "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me." Even as the crowd balloons to an uncontrollable size, the Teacher takes another hour to bless each and every little one who comes to him. There's a happy glow to the children's faces when they skip back to their parents.
After the last child scurries away, a man breaks free from the crowd and rushes at the Teacher. He is dressed in a fine linen suit and has an entourage of men who follow closely after him. Miles and Petra lurch forward to stop him, but it's too late; the entourage blocks them.
When he reaches the Teacher, he stops abruptly and falls to his knees, his face to the ground. I've seen many poor people out here following the Teacher, but this is the first time an apparently wealthy man has humbled himself in such dramatic fashion. "Good Teacher," the rich man says, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?"
No one ever asked this question before. A blanket of silence falls over the crowd of thousands. The only audible noise is the chirping of the crickets and the excited breathing of so many humans gathered in one place.
"Why do you call me 'good'?" the Teacher replies. "No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: 'You shall not murder; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and mother..."'
The man lifts his head and declares proudly, "Teacher, I've kept all these since my youth."
"You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come. Follow me."
At this the crickets seem to stop chirping, as does our collective breathing. I've never heard such a deafening silence in all my life. Everyone, including the Teacher, anxiously awaits the man's response.
Slowly the man rises from his knees and pats out the wrinkles and dust from his expensive suit. Then, painfully, he turns back to his entourage and motions for them to leave. A smile spreads across the Teacher's face. But then the man turns and follows his entourage. He keeps his eyes low as he walks. The crowd erupts in a horrified gasp.
The man, like the Teacher's smile, is gone as quickly as he came.
The Teacher addresses the crowd. His eyes are watery. "How hard will it be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God?" Another gasp arises from the crowd. "Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God."
A random voice from the crowd shouts out, "Then who can be saved? Tell us, Teacher! Please tell us! Show us how! Light the way!"
The Teacher spins around, addressing the crowd encircling him. He cries in a loud voice, "For mortals it is impossible, but not for God. For God all things are possible!"
"But Teacher!" Petra cries back. "We've left everything and followed you!"
"Truly I tell you, there's no one who has left his house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age: houses, brothers, and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come.. .eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first."
At these words the crowd ignites into a full-fledged frenzy. Some shout with joy. Others call out to the Teacher, begging for clarification. "We don't understand!" they scream. "What does this mean?" Others lash out in anger, howling, "Only God can grant eternal life! How can you claim such a thing! It's a blasphemy! This is blasphemy!"
In the end all the angry and confused voices are drowned out by a unified and earth-shattering chant. It brings me to my knees in fear. With a passion worthy of the angels attending the one true God in heaven, the people roar, "Messiah! Messiah! Messiah!"
Sleep doesn't come easy to me tonight. I toss and turn for hours, awakening from countless nightmares. I'm tempted to get up, awake the Teacher, and demand an answer from him. I want to know what he has planned, and I want to hear it in plain language.
Are you or are you not going to fight the Kingdom?
How complicated can it be? I need an answer; I have to know exactly what he wants to do. Enough with all this talk—it's time for action.
These people in the countryside believe the Teacher is the anointed one of God. Thousands of them plan to follow us into the Holy City for the Great Festival. It will be a sight to see. Thousands of Americans will come to the Holy City to worship the one true God, with two men being called the messiah. There's a buzz in the air, with people saying the time finally has come, that this is it—the ages are finally ending.
There have been whispers, even here, that a Southerner has returned home and is marching an army toward the Holy City. But no one knows his name. There are many rumors. He is the Son of Man coming with the clouds of heaven, riding a white horse, and carrying a bloodied sword. He's a dragon with ten heads who spits fire from his mouth, able to scorch King Charles's army in a single hour. He's very young, they say—just a student returned home to save his people. He is neither an angel nor a dragon but simply a man touched by God.
I say nothing to anyone but Jude, who tells me to listen to the people and believe their words. "They know the truth about you, Deacon, and soon the whole world will also. When the army reaches the Holy City and you assume command, they all will know the truth—the messiah has come and is everything they've heard. You're the Son of Man, a dragon from hell, and a w
arrior. The man who carries the gun of his rebel father. The man who'll cut off the head of our dreaded enemy."
But still I doubt. It's been a long while since I heard the men chant "Messiah" for me. Even then, it was only one night—so very fast, like a dream. I went to them. I battled the Nordic, beating him senseless, and they hoisted me like a king and revealed to me their plan.
King Charles will make an unannounced visit to the Holy City for the Great Festival. No one knows he's coming. Henrik, our Centurion Guard traitor, is apparently a high-ranking soldier with access to top-secret information and to the king himself. King Charles is smart enough to realize the calls for rebellion have grown too loud in the South. His presence at the Great Festival will send a strong message to those calling for war. Henrik says the king plans on executing a record number of criminals on Kingdom crosses, just to make sure he gets his point across.
My army will wait outside the city wall until they receive my signal.
When the king visits a royal territory, it's his custom to meet the families of those "selected" for work in the camps. It's a public display of honor, a chance for the king to praise loyal service and courage. When a family member has perished in the camps, as both my mine have, the king humbles himself by kissing the hand of a surviving relative.
Here's the important part. Because weapons have been banned for so many years in the South, there's no serious need to check Kingdom subjects for guns, unless there's good suspicion to do so. According to Henrik, if I keep close to him, I'm all but assured to go unchecked. Which means no one will know that when the king bends down to kiss my hand, I'm going to blow off his head.
e rise early the next morning and begin our journey to the Holy City. It is a full day's walk if you move fast and don't stop for food. But given the enormous size of our group, the trip will take two days. The Teacher believes it's important that we move as one cohesive unit, not leaving anyone behind—a difficult task when thousands are in tow.
The debates from the night before have continued in the daylight. Some follow because they're in awe of the Teacher and expect great things to happen in the Holy City. Others are terrified of what could happen when thousands of Americans pour into the city hailing the Teacher as the messiah. The Kingdom won't take this lightly.
The Kingdom reserves its harshest brutality for men who believe they can challenge authority. There have been countless other would-be messiahs in the past, all of whom met violent deaths. It's telling that there are no old men in our midst who tell stories from days when they called themselves messiahs. A messiah either delivers his people or he's buried by his people. There's no other way.
Petra and Miles spend much of the morning in intense argument over what should be done in the Holy City. Both men show signs of cracking under the mounting stress. We're all too aware of what our journey to the Holy City represents. Out here in the countryside, we haven't yet reached the point of no return. Anyone of us could simply withdraw from the Teacher and be swallowed into the herd and be lost and gone forever. There's no one and nothing stopping us. The choice is still ours.
But should we enter the city limits with him and these people cheering for their new messiah, all bets are off. Even Petra, whom I believe doesn't experience fear as a normal man does, looks timid.
Around noon our fears are compounded. We've just climbed out of a deep valley when we come upon a mass execution. We see fifty Kingdom crosses perched atop a hill, with a dead man nailed to each one. It's an atrocious sight, and mothers work hard to cover the faces of their children, but it's impossible to shield them from the horror. The carnage is nauseating.
These poor souls have been dead for days. The scavengers of the sky already have done their work to the corpses and moved on to the next feeding ground. Eyeballs are missing from sockets. Limbs have been gnawed to the bone. One man's heart dangles from his open chest. There's so much dried blood on the men's bodies that they look like creatures from another world—a world inhabited by skinned humans.
The nails have been driven through both arms and the feet. Many of the legs are badly broken and disfigured. If a man survives long enough on the cross, the Kingdom eventually will grant him one small act of mercy by breaking his legs. That way he can no longer push himself up to take in deep breaths and will die much faster. It's the only act of generosity in what is otherwise the most torturous means of death devised by man.
Our people are tired, but we can't stop for rest in this place. We push onward and promise the younger ones food once we've moved beyond this unholy gravesite.
"It's a warning," Petra says to me, "a warning for anyone traveling into the Holy City."
Miles points to the crosses. "Challenge the Kingdom's authority, and this is what happens to you."
"Look upon your fate, boys," I say. "That's what they want for us."
Jude comes alongside us. "No man deserves to die like this. It's beyond evil."
"They're all Southerners," I say. "You men realize that, right? These are our people who died like dogs—our people who've been denied proper burials. Our brothers' souls that are denied a peaceful pilgrimage to the afterlife."
Petra spits on the ground. "They'll pay for this! Every last one of them will pay for their sins. I'd gladly give my own life for it."
I also spit. "As would I!"
Miles and Jude both spit too.
I take a hard look at the crosses and allow the image to singe my brain. I want it there forever. I never want to forget what the Kingdom has done to my people. "The people are right," I say. "Our ages are ending. Let's kill them all."
After our midday rest, the Teacher pulls the twelve aside, including me, and speaks some kind of gibberish. "We're going to the Holy City, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the religious authorities, and they'll condemn him to death. Then they'll hand him over to the Kingdom. They'll mock him and spit upon him and flog him and kill him. After three days he'll rise again."
The Teacher is sweating profusely and looks very tired as he speaks. He searches us with piercing eyes but we all avoid eye contact because no one has any idea what he's saying. The entire situation is awkward, uncomfortable, and frankly inappropriate. Jude was right; he's no messiah.
Finally Petra proves brave enough to break the silence. "Teacher, we want you to do something for us."
The Teacher wipes sweat from his brow. "What is it?"
"Promise us that we'll sit at your right and at your left in glory. Assure us of our seats in power, once we reach the Holy City. We need this—all of us." Petra hesitates. "We need some guarantee we'll be given authority."
The Teacher bows his head and shakes it slowly. "You don't know what you're asking. "Do you think you're able to drink from the cup from which I drink, or be baptized in the baptismal waters in which I was baptized?"
"We're able," Miles replies. "All of us. We're ready. You've prepared us for it."
"The cup from which I drink you will drink from, and in the baptismal waters in which I was baptized, you will be baptized. You can rest assured of this. But to sit at my right or at my left—that's not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared."
"He's losing it," I whisper in Jude's ear. "The strain of it all is breaking him. The man is falling apart."
Jude and I watch in silence as an argument breaks out among Petra and Miles and the nine others. Petra and Miles force the issue, wheedling the Teacher for clarification and confirmation about their coming power. Petra wants control of the army, while Miles asks to be the minister of finance. The others beg for them to stop and leave the Teacher alone.
He's had enough, I think. Can't they see it?
The ridiculousness goes on for another ten minutes before the Teacher exhales deeply and says, "Enough!" The men fall silent. "You know that among the Kingdom those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it isn't so among you. Whoever wishes to become great must be your s
ervant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be the slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many."
"There you have it," I say under my breath. "The final straw. He's lost and gone forever."
Jude nods. "It's rather sad to watch a good man lose his mind. I've followed the Teacher for years, hoping he had a decent plan hidden up his sleeve. But this—to become servants? That's how he believes we'll become greater than King Charles and his mighty Kingdom? He's insane."
It's true. Even I hoped the Teacher might come around at the last hour and prove himself more useful than this. Deep down I dreamt wildly and foolishly that he might use his powers to come to our defense in battle. The man, after all, commands the wind and the sea. Imagine what he might do to the enemy, should he choose to. But no—every man has his breaking point. And it's painfully obvious the Teacher has arrived at his.
I take a long hard look at the Teacher and the men who've given up their lives to follow him. Then I take in the thousands who surround us: women, children, fathers, brothers, wives, sisters. My stomach turns sour. I say, "This man needs to travel back to Oxford to take his rest. He has no business leading a mass of sheep to slaughter."
I walk away, eager to be alone, and think of nothing but Maria's dark eyes and cocoa skin.
e reach the outskirts of the Holy City by midafternoon the following day. We're near a small mountain when the Teacher orders our group to stop walking. He sends Petra and Miles into the small village outside the Holy City with explicit instructions. "Go into the village ahead of us, and immediately when you enter it, you'll find a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it back. If anyone says, 'Why are you doing this?' just say, 'The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.'"
Petra and Miles exchange confused looks before scurrying away to do the Teacher's bidding. The rest of us use the hour to get off our feet and find shade to hide from the blazing sun.
Centurion: Mark's Gospel as a Thriller Page 13