“Where are my jewels?”
The governor screamed again, but even if the prisoner did know, he was now unable to answer.
“That’s enough; release him from your hex.”
Quirinius ordered but Toomak disregarded the command and continued with her gruesome undertaking. The governor repeated his edict but in her disturbed state Toomak completely ignored him and carried on. Fearful of being turned upon, the governor decided not to argue any further so he stepped back and watched, transfixed at the ghastly floor show. He stared equally disgusted and beguiled as unbelievably the soles of the prisoner’s feet inched closer towards the back of his head.
Like the snapping of dry branches trodden underfoot, every joint along the front of the prisoner’s body cracked and separated under the strain as the poor man’s torso adopted this freakish pose. Very slowly his movement slowed to a halt, as it looked like the structure of his body would not allow it to fold any further. Frustrated, Toomak chanted louder and the prisoner’s body began to tremble under the strain. Suddenly the tendons in his neck ruptured and a rush of blood blushed just under the surface of his skin on his throat. Free of restraint, the joints in his neck freely separated and the back of his head flopped back loosely against his shoulder blades. Simultaneously and with a loud crack, three of his lower vertebrae imploded giving a sharp kink to the curved appearance of his spine and as his hip joints snapped, the poor man’s feet finally rested on the top of his head. Quirinius had seen many gruesome events in his time but even he blanched at the sight, and when the prisoner blinked his eyes showing that he was still alive, the governor found it hard to avoid regurgitating his lunch onto the floor. Satiated with the outcome, Toomak let the feet of the doll go and as the lower half sprang back into shape, the man’s body flopped down to hang in a more natural position. The only thing looking out of place was the man’s head which still stared at the ceiling as it hung limply against his shoulder blades.
“In the name of all that is holy, don’t let him die!”
The governor pleaded, recovering quickly and now thinking of his treasure rather than being repulsed by the situation. Toomak nodded briefly looking like she was going to obey when she closed her fist back around the head of the doll and with a sharp twist of her wrist, she wrung the tiny mannequin’s neck and once again the prisoner reciprocated, dying instantly when his head twisted violently around, instantly snapping the spinal column. Quirinius stared open mouthed as the dead man’s chin now rested against his backbone and his lifeless eyes stared directly down to the floor. Toomak blinked and her eyes reverted to their usual state, while the governor, released from his own self hypnotised state ran forwards and pressed his ear to the man’s chest to find no evidence of a heartbeat.
“He’s dead you imbecile, I told you to stop and you ignored my command. I’ll make you pay for this.”
The governor in his anger, moved in very close to Toomak, spraying her face with spittle as he screamed the words. He angrily knocked the doll from her hands, distraught at the possibility of never being able to find his missing jewels. This made him forget his manners and as soon as the doll touched the floor, he realised what he had done and quickly stooped to retrieve it. However, it was already too late. As he straightened up and offered it meekly back, Toomak stared him in the eye and in an instant he was frozen to the spot and under her command. She held his gaze and retrieved the doll from his paralysed hands and then circled around, forcing Quirinius to turn and face the dead body hanging before him. Toomak then resumed her chant, once again manipulating the doll’s limbs and the dead prisoner suddenly reanimated. The governor, completely unable to escape Toomak’s gaze, could see in his peripheral vision the sight of the body wildly swinging back and forth on the rope, the corpse lashed out his legs and looped them over the governor’s shoulders then entwined tightly around his chubby neck, drawing the two close together in a bizarre embrace. Toomak watched avidly as Quirinius, now free from the trance, frantically clawed to liberate himself from the dead man’s thighs, as his face was now buried in the fresh cadaver’s soiled groin. Tighter and tighter, Toomak twisted the doll’s legs, and as the dead body reciprocated she laughed heartily as stinking shiny brown bodily waste oozed forth from inside the brimming loincloth. The more the governor squirmed, the more his face and hands became coated, filling his nose and gasping mouth as he desperately tried to suck in air and found nothing but human faeces.
Toomak walked over to the cleat on the wall and unhitched the support rope, dropping the dead body heavily onto the earthen floor. This in turn dragged down the governor who fell painfully onto his knees and then flat face down, still gripped tightly between the fouled and stinking thighs.
“I promised myself that one day you would pay for the death of my beloved Pappy, and today my wish is fulfilled.”
Toomak growled as she stepped forwards, lifted her left foot, placing it firmly on the back of the governor’s head, pressing his fat face into the urine soaked underwear. The wet fabric instantly moulded tightly around his nose and mouth, and as he inhaled the pungent liquid sucked deep into his body, burning the lungs and stinging his throat. The harder he tried, the tighter the fabric bonded, sealing off any hope of life giving air. The governor’s body twitched uncontrollably then unsurprisingly it slowly convulsed and finally stopped. The last irony was the sight of the governor’s bowels making their own addition to the stench as he died. Satisfied, Toomak removed her foot, circled around to straighten the prisoner's head then drew out her stiletto dagger and repeatedly stabbed the prisoner in the chest.
“Guards come quickly, the governors being attacked.”
She yelled down the corridor while hiding the doll back into her tunic. Before the two guards ran to the governor’s aid only to find the disgusting sight of their employer lying on the floor with the prisoner's legs still entwined around his neck.
“He grabbed hold of the governor with his legs so I released the rope to make him fall to the floor and release his grip, but that didn’t work. I even stabbed the prisoner in the chest with my own dagger but it was too late the governor was dead.”
Toomak sniffed and sobbed in mock despair, which convinced the guards, and she ran tearfully from the cell hiding her delight. The sight of the stab wounds and the position of the dead governor coated in bodily waste did little to encourage a detailed investigation so Toomak’s story was accepted without question.
After the funeral, Quirinius’ widow and family packed up their belongings and returned reluctantly to Rome. Unwilling to return to her own family, Toomak travelled from Jerusalem to Damascus to wait for the latest incumbent, to see if her skills were required. Within a few weeks and with little fanfare, a small caravan arrived with baggage and servants, followed by a short dark haired man expertly riding a black mare. He dismounted and ran up the steps two at a time, almost bowling Toomak over in the process.
“Please accept my apologies; I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
He said as he grabbed hold of Toomak before she fell over.
“Judging by your appearance, I’m guessing that you must be Toomak the physician.”
Toomak nodded silently allowing the man to continue.
“Please let me introduce myself, my name is Pontius Pilate your new governor.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Toomak reached an agreement to stay within the new governor’s reach wherever he happened to be. This usually constituted four months in Damascus, then three in Jerusalem, with the remaining time travelling to places of lesser importance. The man required little care and seemed a hardy soul due to his daily horse riding, keeping him fit. Not like Quirinius who hardly exercised, ate like a pig, and used to complain of a different ailment almost every week. It was Pilate’s disabled son Pilo, who required most of Toomak’s skills. Born with a deformed foot making him unable to exercise and play like other children, his muscles barely developed and his weakened constitution made him susceptible to many type
s of malady and infection. Toomak soon developed empathy towards the young boy as she too had a lonely childhood as other children were fearful and never welcomed her company. Reluctantly Toomak admitted to herself that she actually cared for the boy’s well being, a feeling she had only experienced once before when she learned at her Pappy’s knee.
It was now apparently obvious to Toomak that Jesus was now far more powerful than she could have imagined and a face to face showdown without the original amulet was out of the question. Lucifer himself had polarised the power of this talisman to malevolence, and she could only dream of giving a fraction of that malignant energy to her duplicate. It required a power she dreamed of, yet failed to possess. The only sure way of stealing his life force would be near Jesus’ deathbed, where his severely weakened state would be sure to guarantee success. The next problem was how to achieve this goal. An accident seemed impractical as the possibility of his death before Toomak could reach him ruled out the idea completely. A slow poison would work but would be impossible to get close enough to regularly administer the correct dose. The only way to a foolproof method was to enlist the help of like-minded people, and after weeks of deliberation, she believed to have the ideal solution.
All of this had to wait until Pontius Pilate travelled to Jerusalem. When the time came, Toomak accompanied the caravan as per their agreement and soon settled back into her old routine. She rarely saw her family any more following the fiasco at Glaston and even with their close proximity felt no urge to visit. Instead, she used her time creating the perfect plan with which to defeat Jesus and accomplish her vow and raise Hell on Earth. Three months passed and Toomak received a message from one of her informants that Jesus and his followers were heading towards Jerusalem before the next new moon and this time intended to enter the city. She could scarcely believe her luck and set about putting her plan into motion.
“I want you to call for the arrest the false prophet called Jesus.”
Toomak announced to Joseph Caiaphas, the high priest accompanied by a small ensemble of six terrified scribes and Pharisees from the Sanhedrin. They had come to the governor’s residence on a falsehood sent by Toomak that Pontius Pilot requested an audience. The truth was that Pilate was away for a few days riding his horse and hunting wild game in the mountains. If they had known that Toomak requested a visit, there was not a single man amongst them that would have the courage to fulfil the invite. Each man looked from one to another in confusion.
“Are any of you listening to me or are you deaf as well as feeble minded?”
Toomak raised her voice as she asked. As usual, no one could make a decision without a whispered debate and cogitation, which did nothing to improve Toomak’s patience. Even though the high priest stood amongst them, all decisions apparently appeared mutual. Toomak circled the group like a lioness deciding which member of the herd to separate for the kill until eventually one of the group found a voice.
“We have no reason to demand the incarceration of Jesus, as he has not committed any crime.”
The elected man winced as he spoke the final word and closed his eyes from the expected punishment. Silence ensued and he cautiously peeped out to see Toomak looking remarkably calm.
“My, my, you’ve soon changed your opinions. Let me put it another way, if when Jesus enters the city he commits a crime do I have your assurance that you will demand his arrest and allow me access to the prisoner whenever I wish?”
Once again, the priests discussed the request at length, pushing Toomak’s patience to the limit, but as this was the first vital part of the plan she tried to remain calm.
The high priest Caiaphas finally stepped forwards and cleared his throat.
“Our intense distrust of the false prophet called Jesus is obviously shared by our church and yourself, and we would all be much happier if he were to go away. We are also holy men and must adhere to the teachings of the Talmud. Therefore only if Jesus commits a crime against our faith will we assay punishment.”
Toomak cracked a brief rare smile and nodded in satisfaction before returning to her severe demeanour as she continued.
“If you renege on your promise there will be no hiding place for any of you, do I make myself clear?”
The profoundly deaf high priest could not hear all the words Toomak spoke, but the intent was crystal clear as he nodded briefly and stepped back into the group.
“That is all, now get out.”
Toomak ordered, and scowled at the timid group scuttling away to return to the sanctuary of the Synagogue.
With the first piece of the plan firmly in place, Toomak sent a messenger to find Judas and immediately bring him back. The following morning, much to her surprise, Judas arrived at her door as he was already in the city spreading the word that soon, Jesus would arrive. Toomak tested him with a few orders but the response appeared dull. The influence of Jesus seemed to undermine the effect of the hex that Toomak had previously placed and Judas refused to do anything that he believed would cause Jesus harm, so Toomak had to dilute her demands until she could find something on which he finally agreed.
“During your master’s return to the city an order will be issued for his arrest. Upon hearing this proclamation you will approach Jesus, kiss him on the cheek then walk away without any memory of our association. Do you understand?”
Judas nodded his head and remained silent. Satisfied, Toomak questioned Judas further and seeing no malice in the request Judas told Toomak where Jesus will be lodging outside the city. He then left to return to his duties promoting the prophet’s arrival in the city. With almost everything in place, Toomak revelled at the thought of Jesus arrested and thrown into prison, separated from his followers and weakened from the vile conditions within. It would only be a matter of time before her powers exceeded his, and victory would be assured.
With the second part of the plan complete, Toomak visited the office of Marcellus Tellonicus, the captain of the Jerusalem Roman guard, an old friend of Quirinius who had witnessed the power of Toomak’s magic on several occasions and feared for his health whenever she came near. To make sure enough soldiers were present to ensure Jesus’ arrest, she concocted and relayed to him a tale of a vision.
“In my world I see many things, most of which would mean nothing to lesser men. Last night I had a dream of your death and I thought it my duty to inform you of your demise and how to avoid it.”
With his interest piqued, Marcellus leaned forwards in his chair and poured her a goblet of cheap wine, eagerly encouraging Toomak to continue.
“Within days, the Sanhedrin will demand the incarceration of a prophet for sins against the church and you will be ordered to make the arrest. The malefactor will be identified by a kiss showing you whom to apprehend. A fight will ensue and one of the prophet’s followers will attempt a rescue by thrusting a sword into your back and slaying you, allowing him to escape because you did not take enough guards for your protection.”
The first thing that came to the captain’s mind was that Toomak wanted him and a large proportion of his troops out of the city while a felony took place, and even though Marcellus feared Toomak’s power he thanked her for her concern but dismissed the tale. Undeterred at the failure, Toomak reverted to another base instinct that was very close to his heart, avarice. It was also well known throughout the guard that the captain loved to gamble. It did not matter on what, as long as a wager could be made. To sate his gambling lust, he once even placed a bet on which one of his company’s horses would be the next one to take a piss and he kept the company up all night long, walking up and down the stable block listening for sounds of running water. The main problem with his gambling was that he was terrible at it and lost a great deal. He regularly had to alter the figures of the company payroll to ‘borrow’ money, as he put it, hoping one day to win enough to put it all back. Toomak pondered for a while, letting the silence unease the captain before she continued.
“I am sorry that you don’t believe me capt
ain, perhaps a small gesture of good faith will help you decide.”
Toomak placed her hand inside her tunic and watched the captain tense up and place his hand over the hilt of his sword then thankfully relax, as no weapon was produced, just a small leather drawstring purse, which she threw with a heavy thud onto the table between them. Following a nod from Toomak, Marcellus pulled open the string holding closed the purses mouth and poured out a small pile of silver coins. His eyes opened wide and his heart jumped, there was enough there to pay off all his debts and still have plenty left to continue gambling. He quickly scooped up the coins, replaced them back into the purse, and retightened the string before he spoke again.
“Who do you want killed?”
The question seemed so matter of fact that Toomak wondered how many people had met a sorry end at the hand of this cold hearted soldier.
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