The Jesus Germ

by Brett Williams

  Herod wiped his sandals on the ground, holding the diamond to the sun so it exploded with light. He dragged the chest behind a clump of bushes, unhitched the chariot, pushing it deep inside a nearby cave. Unencumbered, he galloped away to the southwest.

  As Simon and Mars passed the ravine they saw evidence of Herod. A drag mark in the dirt led to bushes where the chest was hidden. A shiny green fly sat on its lid, seeking out the stench. Simon peered over the cliff. Jeremiah’s ghastly remains were being investigated by a lone vulture and a wary pack of hyenas. He followed the wheel ruts into a cave to find Herod’s chariot.

  For the three days that Simon trailed Herod, he caught occasional glimpses of him. Mars proved to be strong and reliable, as Joshua promised. On the fourth evening after leaving Tiberius, Simon steered Mars in a wide berth around Herod’s night camp, riding the stallion hard till sunrise. Soon an endless vista of sand stretched ahead of them. When they reached Meroe on the banks of the Nile they would await the king of Tiberius.

  8

  Mustafa waited respectfully in a corner of the room. Jonah’s wife lay on a stone table, clothed in a pale blue robe, arms crossed serenely over her chest, grey face flawless. A procession of relatives filed past, each bending to kiss her gently on the forehead, accompanied by wailing and tears.

  Mustafa joined the queue but instead of kissing the dead woman he pulled the three glass ornaments from a bag beneath his purple robe, laying them together on the edge of the table with the other funereal gifts.

  Jonah was the last to approach his wife, sobbing uncontrollably, burying his face in her shoulder, holding her head. Finally, he stood upright, gazed longingly at her, kissed her lips for the last time and walked forlornly away.

  Her simple pine coffin was buried in the field behind her house in an unmarked grave, a mound of soil and a single yellow flower the only hint of what lay below.

  9

  The royal compound sat above the flood plain of the Nile, a monolith of red mud-brick, surrounded by wide roads lined with trees and manicured grounds. Tired and dirty, Herod reined his dusty horse to a stop, dismounted and led the stallion toward a large courtyard situated behind a temple honouring the sun god Ra.

  Devoid of jewellery, King Shorkaror stood waist-deep in the middle of his private swimming pool. He waded to the edge and climbed out. A servant girl offered him a sleeveless cotton garment to put on. He stared at Herod, waiting.

  Herod approached the Kush monarch, and they embraced each other tightly in mutual welcome. Shorkaror spoke in Meroic and though Herod could not understand a word he was completely at ease.

  Shorkaror nodded toward the swimming pool. In a most unroyal fashion, Herod leapt into the water fully clothed, washing away the heat and grit of the desert. Shorkaror followed with a loud smack, sending a circle of waves onto the surrounding ground. Both men laughed like children.

  That evening, Shorkaror and Herod feasted on antelope steaks and baked Nile perch and both drank their fill of beer.

  Although neither spoke the other’s tongue, the language of trading was simple. However, Herod would need to offer something of special value for Shorkaror to consider, since Meroe had the largest iron deposits in Africa along with vast reserves of gold. The empire was flushed with wealth.

  Herod sought a broad tract of land along the Nile, north of Meroe, to extend Roman governance south of the occupied territories in Egypt. In collaboration with Herod, the Governor of Thebes conspired to acquire the land above the fifth cataract in order to control trade on the mighty river.

  Shorkaror rose from his seat, fetched a ragged linen scroll from a shelf on the wall and unfurled it on the table, revealing a crude, well-worn map inscribed with roughly drawn notations in the Meroic style

  Herod indicated a long section of the Nile. Shorkaror stared blankly then broke into a bout of uncontrolled laughter. Herod remained stony-faced. Shorkaror shook his head in disagreement without contemplating what Herod might offer in exchange for the land made fertile by the annual Nile floods and whose mineral potential was still unexplored.

  Herod untied the giraffe-skin bag from his belt, loosened the neck and placed it on the table. He pushed the food away and took Shorkaror’s right hand, turning it up. From the bag, he pulled out the diamond, concealing it as best he could in his closed fist before dropping it onto Shorkaror’s palm.

  The weighty jewel soaked up the light of the flares, becoming a fiery golden ball. Shorkaror sat spellbound.

  Herod plucked it from his hand, placing it on the map over the land he wished to acquire, and with instant understanding the men agreed. Shorkaror called for the royal scribe, the boundaries of Herod’s new land duplicated on two maps drawn on papyrus scrolls. Herod retained one, with the other to be hidden with the diamond in a secret location. On each map the scribe poured a tiny pool of raw bee’s wax which Shorkaror stamped with his royal seal - a striking cobra cut from iron.

  Possession of the mighty stone would ensure Shorkaror’s quick passage to the afterlife upon his death and he would not relinquish it for the world.

  Herod offered the giraffe-skin bag to Shorkaror to place the diamond in. Together they left the dining hall onto a veranda overseeing the royal residence where a cool desert wind fanned their faces.

  Mars frolicked in the Nile, shaking his head, showering Simon with water. Refreshed, they rested under a grove of date palms above the sandy bank, and waited for nightfall.

  Out of the red sands, a pyramid soared into the air, one of fifty-seven monuments to kings and queens and important figures from the Meroin past. Simon guided Mars through the towering edifices, against a backdrop of pale stars and a narrow crescent moon, to the largest pyramid at the southern edge of the royal graveyard. Built from sandstone blocks, it adjoined a small offering temple situated above a burial chamber.

  From his time in Herod’s court, Simon knew of the diversions to Meroe, away from the feigned hunting expeditions outside Tiberius. He’d secretly studied the cache of maps Herod drew for himself, and memorised the superstitious rituals Shorkaror insisted upon. Each meeting of the kings was punctuated by a visit to the pyramids of Shorkaror’s forebears, after which Herod left for Tiberius under cover of night.

  Herod and Shorkaror rode into the cemetery from the north, barely visible in the dim starlight. They slowed to a walk, disappearing behind a newly built pyramid. Simon left Mars and circumnavigated the cemetery to a tall stone block from where he observed the two men.

  Herod and Shorkaror dug under the pyramid using wooden scoops until only their heads were visible above the desert floor. Shorkaror climbed out, went to his horse, retrieved the giraffe-skin bag and re-entered the hole. Soon both kings were again on the surface. They walked west through the cemetery, pausing to stretch their arms to the stars.

  A rat scurried past searching for scorpions and Shorkaror felt vindicated when a brilliant green meteor streaked across the black sky. Herod was anxious to leave but Shorkaror would not be hurried. He led Herod to another pyramid and in front of the adjoining temple he sunk to his knees, praying to his gods and asking for his mother’s guidance.

  Simon ran from his hiding place, a faint shadow in the low light, stopping at the hole the kings had dug before jumping in. He crouched into a smaller hole that tunnelled under the foundation, as sand caved in over his feet. Above his head a space opened into the pyramid’s interior. He stood, blindly exploring its smooth walls with his hands, discovering a recess in the rock. From it he withdrew a small weighty bag, replacing it with the cube wrapped in lamb’s wool. He squeezed out from under the pyramid, scrambling from the hole, fleeing behind the stone block.

  Shorkaror and Herod returned to fill in the excavation then rode a short distance away. Simon flattened his body to the sand as they passed but a step from his head.

  Surrounded by endless desert, the kings parted and Herod turned his grey horse toward Thebes. At the spring festival in Tiberius, Shorkaror and the Governor would be his honoured
guests.

  Simon watched Shorkaror skirt the cemetery toward Meroe. He untied the neck of the giraffe-skin bag and tipped the diamond into his palm where it absorbed the star light, sparkling softly. Now the kings were deceived and the cube was safe. He eased the diamond into the pouch and whistled for Mars who pranced out of the darkness. Simon rode into the desert as another meteor tore across the heavens. Herod saw it too and his stomach convulsed.

  In Thebes, Herod informed the Governor of the land he had acquired, displaying the map stamped with Shorkaror’s royal seal. The Governor despatched boats laden with supplies and building materials to establish new colonies along the immense river. After resting and completing his official obligations, Herod returned to Tiberius. He retrieved his chariot from the cave, without noticing the second set of footprints mingled with his own. He passed the bushes where the ivory chest was hidden then stopped on the edge of the ravine and saw no sign of Jeremiah’s remains at the bottom. Gazing across the landscape, he imagined the spoils from the hunting party and the exotic animals awaiting him in the palace dungeons.

  Simon arrived in Tiberius under a full moon that dulled the canvas of stars. He led Mars into the barn behind the house, removed the saddle then left for the leper colony without disturbing Joshua.

  Deep inside his cave, by candlelight, he gathered writing implements and a clean sheet of papyrus. He inscribed a message then slept till sunrise.

  That morning, Joshua found Mars in splendid condition, bowed over the grain trough. Simon would soon return.

  10

  Shorkaror and the Governor of Thebes rode into Tiberius with little fanfare. From the grand palace gate, their horses were led to the stables and a centurion in battle dress showed both men to separate quarters that overlooked an indoor swimming pool

  The city bubbled with festivity, the sun filled streets flooded with people.

  Joshua was leading Mars from the barn when Simon appeared, hood pulled low to hide his face. Joshua hugged him and Mars pumped his head until Simon laid a calming hand on his neck.

  ‘Welcome home,’ Joshua said.

  ‘Thank you for everything, Joshua. Without Mars, I could not have accomplished my task,’ Simon said.

  ‘You return him in fine condition for the chariot races.’

  ‘Good luck today, Joshua. I will enter the palace a last time then leave Tiberius, never to return.’

  Joshua understood. ‘I must not be late, Simon. If there is anything I can do for you, contact me if you can. Stay safe. Goodbye, my friend.’

  Joshua led Mars down the road and every Tiberian along the way stopped to admire the black stallion.

  Simon watched them go then headed for the abandoned well.

  When Simon emerged into the dungeon it was filled with sunlight. A square platform rested on the floor, connected to an organised tangle of ropes and pulleys.

  As Simon slipped on the white physician’s robe, a leopard that had been sitting quietly in the straw leapt at him, hissing and pawing at the air, the shackle around its throat jolting it violently back to earth. Hearing footsteps, Simon knelt behind a small donkey, pretending to examine a hoof as six centurions marched past. They ignored him, hoisting the platform to the arena where a rhinoceros chased the court clown. Simon crept out of the dungeon, following the corridor to the courtyard adjoining the infirmary.

  Two doctors were realigning the ends of a centurion’s broken femur. Someone yelled at Simon to pass a wad of cotton. He scooped it off the bench and put it in an outstretched hand. Simon’s lumpy hand went unnoticed and he kept walking, entering a hallway leading away from the commotion.

  The library was empty. Simon travelled the secret passage and sat on the steps under the statue of Thor, revising his bold plan.

  Shorkaror, Herod and the Governor watched the festival events throughout the afternoon. Mars won the chariot race, strutting around the edge of the arena to an adoring crowd as Joshua beamed with pride.

  At the end of the day’s events, Shorkaror and the Governor rested in their quarters. From his hiding place, Simon heard Herod instruct a soldier to summon Shorkaror to his chamber at sunset.

  As Herod bathed, Simon crept from the statue, pulled the diamond from the giraffe-skin bag, and in a daring gamble placed it on the ivory pedestal at the foot of the bed.

  When Shorkaror arrived, Herod greeted him warmly, filled two mugs with frothy beer and motioned him to sit while he momentarily excused himself to another room.

  Shorkaror admired the furnishings, particularly the grand statue of a hammer-wielding man. Then he noticed the giant diamond perched on the pedestal, the one he’d hidden in the pyramid with Herod’s help. He snatched it up, simmering with rage.

  Herod returned carrying a papyrus scroll. He spread the map showing the land he’d procured when Shorkaror unexpectedly slammed the diamond onto the table.

  Bewildered, Herod picked up the jewel, slowly turning it in his fingers. Shorkaror flung his mug of beer at Herod and swung a fist into his face, knocking him to the floor. The diamond jarred from his grip and landed on the table. With his jaw broken and blood running from his mouth, Herod clawed toward the bath room. Shorkaror delivered a sharp kick that burst Herod’s testicles. The king clamped his hands to his groin, vomiting as Shorkaror readied for further torture.

  For a fleeting moment, Herod thought of Jeremiah whose death had been instant.

  Simon watched Shorkaror follow Herod into the bath room. When they were out of sight he darted to the table, plucked the diamond from the pool of beer and left the chamber through the statue of Thor.

  The soldiers guarding the chamber door listened but dared not enter without permission. Herod knew he was about to die, raising a bloodied hand in submission, begging Shorkaror for mercy.

  Shorkaror obliged, pulling Herod to the bath, forcing his head under water until his flailing limbs stilled and his eyes rolled up in their sockets. Imbedded in the white beneath the iris of his left eyeball, not normally visible, was an unusual purple mark, a distinctly shaped four-pointed star. Simon had seen it once before, having tended Herod to bathe desert grit from his eyes. He’d made no comment to the king, but the brief moment of observation etched the strange anomaly forever in his memory. Shorkaror failed to notice it. Instead, he went to fetch the diamond but it had vanished. He searched the room thoroughly, unable to fathom the trickery, then pulled open the chamber doors, walked calmly past the guarding soldiers and stormed away.

  The stables were full of horses being prepared for the second day of festival events. Shorkaror saw the magnificent black stallion that led the chariot race, being tended by a bearish man.

  The Meroin king saddled his horse, climbed up and kicked it to a dangerous gallop through the tight confines of the stables and out the grand palace gate. He turned south, steering for Meroe under a lumbering sky.

  In the following months, Shorkaror assembled a massive army, mounting an unprovoked assault on Thebes, annihilating legions of Roman soldiers that battled to defend the city. Shorkaror and his generals travelled along the Nile, reclaiming Herod’s land, plundering as they went, killing every Roman man, woman and child they could find.

  Shorkaror also initiated bitter wars with the dark-skinned tribes to the south of Nubia, considering them nobler and fiercer opponents than the Romans. He ached at the loss of his diamond, driving him to unquenchable despair.

  Aged forty-four, he was bitten on the heel by a viper while visiting his mother’s tomb. The bite turned gangrenous and Shorkaror died in a raging fever in the shade of a porch overlooking the royal swimming pool. Entombed within the palace grounds his body was later exhumed and interred below the royal pyramid built to honour him in death. The shorter monuments of his mother and father stood either side.

  Simon left the library, walking unchallenged through the palace hallways to an outside courtyard. Nearing the grand palace gate a voice called out to him but he pretended not to hear.

  A soldier barred his way. Sim
on lifted his hood and shrieked like some deranged beast. Startled onlookers watched him flee the gate unopposed.

  Simon covered up again, losing himself in the festival crowd. His limbs ached more than ever and he noticed that a lump on the back of his right hand was gone. The numbness deserting his limbs had also left his face. In the morning, Simon would complete the task of absolution to rid him of his burden.

  Overnight rain filled the depression in the cooking rock and Simon examined his face in the still water. The bulbous lump above his left eye had shrunk since he last caught his reflection in the Nile River, and the line of nodules running along his lower jaw had evaporated. His left ear, almost torn off when he fell on the plain, had healed perfectly, somehow without scarring. However, the intolerable pain in his limbs and the overcast sky reflected his sullen state. Inside the cave, he took the papyrus scroll he’d inscribed, inserted it in a clay tube and plugged the end with a piece of wax softened in the sun.

  He dusted off an ivory box whose lid was engraved with a charging elephant, and put the clay tube and the diamond inside. He pushed the box onto a high ledge in the cave wall, pondering the horrible deaths befallen those who’d held and marvelled at the lustrous jewel.

  11

  Romanis stayed in his quarters during the festival, tended by the servant girl who dressed his wounds and fed him. He considered ending his life.

  Two soldiers entered his room pushing a chair with wooden wheels. They lifted Romanis into it. He gripped the armrests with his stumps and was rolled to the garden where the falcon waited on its branch.