Timelock

by R. G. Knighton

  Unable to resurrect his old crooked ways, the governor left Toomak, for the most part, alone. Using all the free time given and her renewed vigour for the fight, Toomak gathered all the information she could about Jesus. Not a day passed without her hearing the town’s people gossiping about the miracles Jesus performed, and how his teachings had changed their lives.

  With all the knowledge gleaned from Feriluc, Toomak used up the remainder of her time honing her magical skills and dipping the amulet into specially prepared potions to empower the emerald with hopefully enough energy with which to defeat an adversary as strong as Jesus.

  During the periods that the governor had to personally report to Rome, he left Dobus, one of his nephews in command in his absence. Early one morning, Dobus received notice that one of the apostles of Jesus was seeking permission to hold a meeting in the market place and sought approval from the governor. Dobus was a meek and feeble man and also terrified of Toomak, so he offered no opposition when she took charge by intercepting the message. Intrigued, Toomak gave the order for the apostle to meet her in person to discuss the matter further.

  Ensconced on a large cushion, Toomak watched avidly through a spy hole drilled from the governor’s inner office into the main hall at the apostle being ushered in and left standing on the same spot as she did nearly fifteen years ago. He looked no different to any other member of the lower classes, stocky build, olive skin and a mop of curly brown hair. Closer inspection would reveal hazel brown eyes and traces of a fine wispy beard, grown in the attempt to add the look of maturity but falling woefully short of target. Toomak noted his positive manner by the way he spoke to her aide and also his confident posture while he stood and waited. It was almost as if he knew someone was watching. After keeping him waiting for over an hour, Toomak finally walked up silently behind him, inhaling deeply to see if he carried the same essence she first detected on Jesus, or Yeshua, as he was known when they sailed on the same ship en route to Albion. Startled, the man turned around and stood face to face with the woman who unbeknownst to him had once tried to kill his master. He quickly regained his composure, took a small step back, and then gave a shallow bow before issuing his request.

  “Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, as the governor is away I assume it is with you that I need to seek authority to allow a meeting in the market place tomorrow night.”

  Toomak nodded silently, not denying or admitting that she held no office with which to grant or refuse permission for his request. She let the man ramble on, without paying any attention to the details involved. Her only concern would be the possible presence of Jesus himself in the very city she now called home.

  “It would only be for one evening and I assure you it would be of little inconvenience to officials or residents and we will all be gone the following morning.”

  The man paused after finishing his speech, waiting for an answer. Toomak suddenly realised he had stopped talking, snapped out of her trance and gave her reply.

  “Of course, you have my full permission but only for one night. By the way, I didn’t get your name.”

  “Oh please excuse my manners; I am one of the chosen apostles and my name is Judas, Judas Iscariot.”

  For the next twenty-four hours, Toomak could think of nothing else. The anticipation of the arrival of her nemesis was almost too much to bear so she retreated to her inner sanctum, refusing to see anyone while she poured over faded manuscripts and studied the future in her ancient runes.

  The following morning, Toomak’s studies were disturbed by a terrified servant, who had drawn the short straw to bring the message that the high Priest of the Sanhedrin was waiting in the building demanding to be heard. The young girl ran away sobbing when Toomak threw a jar of ink at her head, which narrowly missed and smashed into the wall behind, showering her in sooty spatter and shards of broken pottery. Toomak stared angrily at the sable stain seeping into the plaster with any excess running in tiny rivulets down the wall and onto the floor.

  Furious at the interruption, she decided not to keep the priest waiting and marched into the main hall where to her surprise, stood not one but twenty or so holy men dressed in similar priestly vestments, apart from one who wore a sleeveless purple robe of office, adorned with bells and tassels. On his head was a miznefet turban complete with a golden plate bearing a religious inscription. It was obvious to all but the blind, who was the high priest and which members were of a lower denomination.

  “State your business!”

  Toomak barked, with all the authority of someone twice her age. Surprised at her lack of reverence, the group murmured and whispered to each other without issuing a reply.

  “I said state your business, I haven’t got all day!”

  Toomak snapped, even louder than the first time. The high priest finally found his voice and began wittering on about who he was and what the Sanhedrin stood for without actually coming to the point. Toomak, now working up into a blinding rage grasped the amulet and raised it to her lips muttering under her breath. The talking ceased immediately and a horrified look passed over the faces of the men. It was well known throughout the city of the immense magical power the amulet held and that Toomak had used it on many occasions, reducing the strongest of men into a gibbering wreck.

  “For the very last time, state your business before I do something I should probably regret but I doubt that I will.”

  Toomak growled from behind the amulet’s shiny façade. The high priest quickly came to the point.

  “We, the council of the Sanhedrin do strongly oppose the granting of permission for a gathering to commence in the market place this very evening to listen to the preaching of this false prophet who calls himself the Son of God.”

  The high priest gasped as he ran out of breath from the extremely long winded sentence, and he had to support himself on the shoulders of two of his junior members. Toomak watched in fascination and threw back her head, laughing heartily and loud enough to echo from the marbled walls of the hall while the priests looked at each other in confusion. When Toomak calmed down she soon regained her normal malevolence and glared at the terrified men.

  “Is that all? If your entire church is threatened by the presence of this one man out of all the preachers and fakirs who spout their beliefs to anyone stupid enough to listen then you must have your way. Far be it from me to upset the noble establishment of the Hebrew faith. I will see to it at once and ban him from entering the city, however, I have no jurisdiction outside the city walls and you cannot stop the people from their own free will. If they choose to listen to him they will. Perhaps you should listen too, you might learn something.”

  The Sanhedrin graciously accepted the decision and quickly left the building, hopefully before Toomak had time to change her mind or decide to do something more sinister. The request had actually fallen into her hands as it moved Jesus far enough away from her own dominion if anything untoward should happen.

  To facilitate this, Toomak sent several servants out to the marketplace to find Judas and order him to return to discuss further the planned gathering. Within the hour, the apostle returned, and as usual had to wait until Toomak graced him with her presence. When she finally entered the room she brought with her a servant carrying a tray on which sat two pewter goblets to mask the flavour of an ingredient previously added to a pitcher of strong wine.

  “Accept my apologies for keeping you waiting, please sit and quench your thirst.”

  Toomak began as she sat in one of two chairs either side of a small table on which the tray of drinks now rested. Judas thought it churlish to refuse and sat in the vacant chair. The servant poured the wine then backed out of the room leaving Toomak alone to converse with her guest.

  “I am sorry to inform you that I can no longer give permission for this evenings gathering due to protest from the Sanhedrin council.”

  Judas did not question the decision, as in many other cities and towns in Judea similar protests had been made re
sulting in the same outcome. Politely draining his goblet, Judas thanked Toomak for her time and then attempted to stand and take his leave, only to fall heavily back into his chair in a semi-comatose state. Toomak smiled as she rose from her seat and circled around to stand directly behind where Judas now drowsily sat. The scent of Jesus still lingered on him and she stooped, inhaling deeply while burying her nose into his curly hair. Judas could only blink, unable to move any other muscle while Toomak whispered incantations into his ear to put him under a hex. When she had finished Judas awoke, entirely unaware he was now completely in her control and willing to follow her every command. For now, the only order given was to act as an informant giving Toomak any detail she desired that was his to give.

  “What happened?”

  Judas slurred his words as he recovered from his enforced sleep. Toomak smiled as she watched him drag his hands down his face and try to come to his senses.

  “You seemed to have fallen asleep for a few minutes, you must be very tired.”

  “Yes, yes I am very tired.”

  Judas replied, unaware he followed her instruction.

  “You can go now.”

  Toomak ordered and Judas stood up and left the room without another word.

  The message of change quickly spread through the local populace and a mass migration of people filled the streets, heading towards the eastern city gate to join the hundreds already patiently waiting for the messiah to join them on the grassy slopes of mount Olivet. The market that had closed early to facilitate the high volume of people, now stood empty apart from the odd citizen hurrying through to catch up with what seemed like half of the population now camped on the far side of the Golden gate.

  Toomak watched through an observation window in the wall of the upper floor in the gatehouse, gradually building up into a fearsome rage at the popularity of just a single man. The entire hillside swarmed like a colony of ants with followers mingling and talking with each other while patiently waiting as the sun slowly descended casting deepening purple shadows across the mountainside.

  Suddenly he appeared standing on the edge of a rocky outcrop allowing the masses a perfect view from any angle. In a second, the crowd hushed and stared in awe as this man dressed in simple white robes, spread his arms open wide in a gesture of greeting and embrace. Toomak stared also, the first time she had laid eyes on the man-child she had tried to assassinate fifteen years ago. He had obviously matured into a full-grown man but he still kept his boyish looks albeit with longer hair and a short curly beard. The main change seemed to be his presence. Gone was the shy boy, now standing and addressing the masses appeared a man of such overwhelming charismatic projection and mien it was hard for Toomak to draw her eyes away from his form. For everybody else, like a moth to flame the sheer force of his personality glamoured the masses and they listened enrapt to his every word.

  Toomak disgusted with herself, finally managed to tear her gaze away from the vision. She decided that the best way for him to die would be in front of the people he enthralled, and in her deluded way, believed they would turn to her in his place.

  Wearing a black hooded shawl pulled close to her face to avoid recognition, she carefully picked her way through the crowd and circled around to the bluff above Jesus’ position. With her amulet held tightly in her hands and pressed to her lips, the whispered chanting began. Over and over, Toomak began the spell only to forget the words halfway through or mentally drift off as his teachings permeated into her consciousness. Sweat formed on her brow under the considerable strain on her increasingly cloudy memory that had never failed her before. Again and again she tried until every memorized incantation vacated her mind leaving her exhausted and sobbing in frustration. It was at that point Jesus stopped talking, turned around and looked Toomak directly in the eye. To her surprise, it was not a look of anger or hate, but one of love and compassion as he held out his hands to welcome Toomak to his embrace. For a split second all Toomak wanted to do was to get up and accept the offer of forgiveness but as soon as Jesus stopped talking her mind cleared and her repulsion at the wholesome miasma resurfaced. Screaming, she turned and ran, barging past anyone who stood in her way. All eyes turned to watch this shrieking madwoman circle back down the hill, ploughing a furrow through the assembly on her way to the city gate. Toomak continued to run until she reached the sanctuary of her workshop where she collapsed on a truckle bed and sobbed until sleep released her grief.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  For months after, nightmares of Jesus tormented her sleep. Visions of her renouncing the devil and being welcomed as the thirteenth apostle filled her slumber, sickening her to the very core. The nightmare continued into her waking hours as all the subject of discussion in the house seemed to be of Jesus and the miracles he performed.

  Luckily, the governor of all people accidently came to Toomak’s aid with his need for her powers in interrogating a prisoner. Toomak responded with élan as the sounds of screaming and begging for mercy restored her self-assurance and zeal for revenge.

  “Tell me where you’ve hidden my jewels.”

  Toomak heard the governor yell from a prison cell at the end of the prison corridor down which she now headed. On entering the filthy cubicle, Toomak gagged from the stench of stale urine and faeces that filled the prisoner’s filthy loincloth and stained his upper thighs around his near naked groin. She witnessed the sight of the governor, with two of his bodyguards viciously interrogating the prisoner. With a rough rope tied to his hands, fed through a metal ring embedded in the ceiling and tied to a cleat on the far wall, the poor wretch had been hauled up onto tiptoe and now stood slowly pirouetting around like a ballet dancer. As he slowly revolved, his bloodied body revealed slashes and bright red wheals that matched the dimensions of the bamboo cane held by one of the guards. The prisoner’s head hung limply between cramped shoulders and blood dripped from a broken nose and split lower lip dotting a deep crimson circle on the earthen floor below.

  Gaining control over her reaction to vomit, Toomak tore her eyes away from the prisoner and spoke.

  “You wished to see me.”

  She asked in a low monotone voice, while purposely averting her eyes as per their agreement.

  “Yes, I need some valuable information from this thief, he appears very reluctant to divulge.”

  Began the excited governor, he had ordered troops all over Syria and Judea to search and arrest this man who he believed had stolen his secret hoard of jewels that had somehow managed to evade being confiscated by the senate over a decade ago. Now his supervision order was finally over he had quickly returned to his old ways and retrieval of this valuable asset was paramount. Toomak smiled laconically then dismissed the guards before she could begin. Both men looked for approval from their commander before they gratefully left in search of fresher air.

  The sadistic nature of the governor showed in the anticipation on his fat sweaty face and he rubbed his hands in glee at the thought of the horrors soon to come. His smile soon faded when instead of an unimaginable instrument of torture, Toomak retrieved a small straw doll from inside her tunic.

  He watched curiously as she plucked a hair from the prisoner’s scalp, wound it tightly around the doll then held it under the nose of the prisoner and allowed a few drips of blood to stain the doll’s torso before bringing it to her own mouth. With closed eyes, she whispered several incantations, staining her chin with the prisoner’s blood in the process. Quirinius circled the room, licking his lips in anticipation at the impending floorshow.

  When Toomak ceased her chant, the only sound heard was the creaking of the rope accompanied by the wheezy laboured breathing coming from the governor’s asthmatic chest. Suddenly she opened her eyelids to reveal jet black eyeballs filling the sockets where her humanoid eyes only moments ago used to reside. The governor gasped at the reptilian shiny orbs and stepped back in fear as Toomak smiled menacingly at his cowardice. Turning back to face the prisoner she began to twist and pull on
the legs of the doll and cackled loudly as the poor man’s limbs mimicked every movement. Suddenly awoken from his stupor the prisoner screamed terrified at the independent life his legs appeared to possess and the governor stared open mouthed as the animated limbs jigged and danced. When Toomak stopped, allowing the prisoner to rest, the governor grabbed a handful of the prisoner’s hair, twisted his head violently around and asked again.

  “Where are my jewels?”

  The terrified man remained silent. The truth of the matter was that the poor wretch had no idea where the jewels were. He did intend to steal them, but when he reached the hiding place they had already gone and he had repeatedly informed the governor of this.

  “I’ve already told you, they were gone when I got there.”

  He spluttered through swollen blooded lips and broken teeth. What scared him now as well as the torture was the sight of Toomak’s face. He could see his own reflection in her glassy-eyed stare and was sure he saw the tip of her tongue split snake like as she opened her mouth to cackle.

  “Liar!”

  Screamed the governor and struck the man across the face with the back of his hand. The jewelled rings worn on his chubby fingers, ripped open the flesh of the prisoner’s cheek, spattering Toomak’s tunic and the wall behind her with fresh blood. Toomak watched impassively and waited for the go-ahead before resuming her role.

  Methodically Toomak continued her chant as she grasped the feet and head of the doll and slowly folded it backwards, inching the two extremities together. The prisoner twitched and shook, his instincts fighting with all his remaining strength to resist the unnatural mechanics of his frame. Slowly the tips of his toes scraped backwards across the floor as his legs folded and lifted into the air. At the same time, his bloodied head snapped upwards from its forwards hanging gate and hinged backwards, forcing its way through his sweaty perpendicular arms, tilting his face until it stared at the ceiling. His paunchy belly disappeared under the strain as his spine compressed and the skin tightened, exposing the relief of his bruised rib cage and breastbone. All the whip marks across his chest strained and split open revealing a pearlescent sub-dermal skin that quickly stained when fresh blood oozed to the surface, filling up the widening lacerations before dribbling any excess down the filthy skin. Tiny muffled squeaks clicked in the back of his throat as the sinews holding the muscles to the bone strained then popped as his head inched ever closer towards his feet. With the body now hanging free from the floor, this pathetic site revolved around the vertical axis of the rope, painting macabre crescent moon shaped shadows on the cell walls in the flaming torch light.