by Bear, Robert
God considered what the Devil had said. “I might concede the point. After all, what credit would it be to Jesus to give of himself for someone he loves and who has always loved him? So, let us say that I take away any hope Jesus might have for Daniel. Instead, Jesus must make his choice to surrender himself to death for the sake of someone he despises.”
“That will never happen,” said Satan.
“If Jesus does that, will you in turn concede that he is unblemished, and that his sacrifice on the cross of crucifixion is worthy to seal a new covenant with my people?”
The Devil considered his choice. It seems fair, but if I concede the righteousness of the sacrifice I will end up consumed in my own fires at the end of all things. It matters not. The boy does not have the strength to sacrifice himself if God removes any hope for Daniel. “Fine, it is done,” Satan answered.
Jesus
In the morning, the Belgae laid out another splendid meal for the travelers, but Jesus was not hungry. Our hosts do not partake because they know this is no occasion for revelry.
Going to the cage, Jesus put his hand through an opening in the wattle, and the two cousins clasped hands for some time without speaking. Jesus took back his hand and dipped his finger in a small vessel of oil he had brought with him. He spread the oil upon Daniel’s forehead, and then led Daniel in a prayer, asking God in Heaven for forgiveness. Daniel seems comforted, but I am not. I call to my Father, but I hear nothing.
“Daniel, I need to pray by myself for a while. King Aghamore will arrive, and your trial will begin anon. I will be in the crowd praying for you. I will be there through the end, and you will not be alone.” Jesus put his hand through the opening, and the cousins clasped hands again. Turning away, Jesus saw his mother approach to take his place. She had food with her and a moist cloth to wipe Daniel’s face. Mother always knows what to do for those who suffer.
Jesus walked away at a brisk pace, into the woods, and then he began to run. He ran far enough that no one would hear him shout. He dropped to his knees and closed his eyes, picturing in his mind the image of the Tor, reshaped into the monument to God’s anger and sadness. “Father, you say that the time is nigh for me to return to my homeland, to return to my kinfolk who will turn against me and offer me up for crucifixion. If I go, I bring no hope for freedom in this world for the Jews. If I go, I will never return to these shores and to the Britons I have come to love, and I abandon them to conquest. I know the path you would have me walk through this world is still a long one. It will be many years until the end, but I know now where it leads, so now is the time, here and now, for me to make my choice—obedience unto shame and death, or the fullness of life that comes with the awful price of separation from you.
“You say this sacrifice will bring redemption and the hope of salvation to a broken world racked by sin, but at the same time, it seems that I cannot even redeem just one man.” Jesus continued to shout. “Father, Daniel is a good man, but the Devil bewitched him in a moment of weakness. You know his repentance is true. If I cannot redeem a man such as this, how can I possibly redeem anyone else? Let me redeem Daniel, and I will do it. Show me how I can redeem this dear man, and I will give myself to death on the cross for you. It is all I ask.”
Hearing nothing, Jesus wept and pounded his fists into the ground.
Arvigarus
The Belgae cheered as King Aghamore made his way through the pillars and under the lintels of Stonehenge. A full council of druids followed closely behind. The king passed by a pyre in the center of the monument, already constructed by his people so he could consign the prisoner to the flame without delay. The king seemed to pay it no mind. The Belgae druids who were to judge the case took their seats in front of the monument, facing the visitors across a small open space. King Aghamore and his retainers took seats on either side.
Arvigarus cast his eyes about nervously. Joseph, Fergus, and Grengan were in their places, and guards held Daniel by a halter. Even Mary was there, although she was not essential to the proceedings. Where is Jesus? He said he wanted to be here so his cousin would not be alone at the end. Arvigarus sensed some movement behind him and was relieved to see Jesus make his way to his place in the front of the visitors.
The guards from Ynys Witrin led Daniel before King Aghamore and handed the halter to the king’s retainers.
Arvigarus and Fergus stated that the Silures and Dumnonii had decided, because the crime had been committed against a princess of the Belgae, to yield jurisdiction to the king.
King Aghamore rose to speak, first addressing Arvigarus and Fergus. “As representatives of the Silures and Dumnonii, you have honorably fulfilled your obligations by delivering the prisoner for justice.” Turning his attention to Daniel, the king pointed his finger and howled with rage, addressing the druids sitting in judgment. “This man attempted to rape my daughter and then killed her. I died the day I heard she was dead, but it was not just a crime against me. I have no sons, and now I have no heir of my body to rule my kingdom after me. It was a crime against all my people, a crime against my house, and a crime against my daughter. I demand justice.”
Arvigarus recognized the chief druid of the Belgae, who was to preside over the trial—Aelhaern. At the druidic school in Bangor, he had been a hard taskmaster who focused upon rote memorization of druidic teachings. Aelhaern opened the trial for anyone to speak.
Joseph rose first and offered his apology to King Aghamore and all the Belgae. He explained the Jewish custom of sitting shiva for the dead. “I did this when I first heard of the attempted rape, because I considered Daniel dead to me.”
King Aghamore nodded courteously. “I understand your sorrow at the loss of a son. I bear no ill will against you and your family.”
Joseph sat down without looking at Daniel, who hung his head in pain, muttering that he deserved to die.
One by one, the witnesses rose to speak. Each of the surviving riders who had attended Bridget that day said they had seen Daniel attack her driver with a sword.
Fergus spoke eloquently of how Daniel risked his life at Rumps to preserve the freedom of the Dumnonii.
“While Daniel’s heroism at Rumps was commendable,” Aelhaern said, “it is not relevant to this crime.”
Grengan stood. “It is unlikely that anyone intended to kill the princess. Her death was the consequence of a stray arrow.” He pointed a finger at the druids. “An arrow. If Daniel attacked the wagon with a sword, he could not have been the one who loosed the fatal shot.”
A murmur ran through the crowd.
One of the druids said, “King Grengan’s arguments matter not, because as an outlander Daniel has earned the punishment of death simply by taking up arms in the sacred precinct of the Tor.”
Jesus stood to object. “Any violation of the neutrality of the sacred precinct is not properly part of the case, because that would not be a crime against the Belgae, only against the Dumnonii and the Silures.”
That gave rise to a heated discussion among the druids, but then Aelhaern ruled that Jesus was correct. “Does anyone else wish to speak?” Aelhaern asked.
Mary wept but said nothing. Daniel hung his head and remained silent.
The Belgae druids retired to a nearby grove to consider their decision.
Within a few minutes the druids filed back. With great solemnity they took their seats, except for Aelhaern. None of them looked at Daniel.
Aelhaern raised his voice, as if to make his pronouncement heard all the way to Ynys Môn. “The only possible decision is that Daniel be put to the flame.” Mary cried out in horror, but Aelhaern ignored her and continued. “It matters not whether anyone intended to kill the princess, or whether Daniel himself shot the fatal arrow. The evidence is clear that the prisoner was in league with brigands and that they intended to attack Princess Bridget’s wagon. In these circumstances, Daniel is responsible for the consequences of the attack, regardless of intent and regardless of whether he loosed the fatal shot.”
On Aghamore’s signal, the Belgae druids and the people behind them stepped back to clear a path for the guards to bring Daniel to the stake.
As they led Daniel through, Jesus stood and cried out, “Stop! I will redeem the prisoner!” All eyes turned to him.
“I will not deny my daughter justice for any price,” the king replied sadly.
“You seek justice, and that is what I offer—not just silver. I am the son of the one true God in heaven, and I offer up my own life in place of Daniel’s. If you execute Daniel, the recompense she receives in mortal blood will fade from memory, but execute me in his stead, and your bards will sing for ages of the recompense she receives from the divine.”
Aelhaern looked stunned, and then he laughed. “You not only come as an outlander and expect us to accept your god, but you say that you are divine yourself! I have never heard of anyone so bold. You have taken leave of your senses!” Aelhaern looked over to Elsigar. “Do you see now why I said it was foolish of you to bring an outlander to Bangor?”
Joseph and Daniel were shocked into silence at first, and then both shouted out to Jesus at the same time. They looked at each other, and Joseph went ahead. “You are innocent of any crime,” he said to Jesus. “Daniel must be the one to pay the penalty.”
“My Father in heaven told me I must surrender my life to redeem the whole world from sin that is not my own. I would sooner die here and now, knowing my sacrifice redeems the life of at least one worthy man.”
The crowd buzzed like a nest of angry wasps.
Aghamore held up his hand for silence. “I am moved by the gallantry of your offer, Jesus, senseless though it is. I know what the so-called civilized people of the world think of druids and Celts. They say we are barbarians. The Romans say we are ignorant and cruel, while they gorge themselves with the sight of blood in their arenas and watch their victims slowly suffer death on their crosses. Even the Jews—yes, I know something of your ways, ignorant barbarian that I am—even the Jews call us pagans.
“Let no one say that Britons are without mercy and compassion,” the king continued. “I commute the sentence! We shall not consign the prisoner to the flame. Let his death be merciful and quick, and let it stand as a testament to the goodness and mercy of my daughter.” The king turned to the captain guarding Daniel. “Let it be done at once.”
Before anyone realized what was happening, the captain wound a cord tightly around Daniel’s throat. He placed a stick in the garrote and turned it, lifting Daniel from behind. Daniel choked and clawed the air.
Jesus cried out and ran to Daniel. His cousin expired just as Jesus grasped out to hold him. Mary shrieked in anguish as Jesus and the guard released the body, which fell limp onto the ground.
Arvigarus joined Jesus and his mother as they wept over the body.
Joseph turned away.
Jesus rocked the body of his cousin like a child. “No. Daniel, no.” Jesus’s breathing grew rapid and shallow. He looked at his mother. “How can this be? Why does God hate me so?”
“He doesn’t—”
“He must! He wants to destroy me to save the world, but he won’t let me save the one person I most desire to save.”
Grengan sent men to fetch a wagon to carry off the body.
Jesus clung more tightly.
Mary put her hand on his arm. “You must let him go, Jesus.”
Jesus winced and bowed his head. He lay the body on the ground, and stood over it. “I don’t understand.” His voice was hoarse. “I was willing to sacrifice myself, just as my Father wants. Why did I fail?”
Arvigarus tried to recall all that Jesus had said about the extraordinary prophecy of his sacrifice. “I gather…your god…your father, you call him…wants this sacrifice to be your choice.”
“I was willing to die for Daniel, but my Father doesn’t care.”
“I don’t understand all about your…father…your god…but…” Arvigarus looked over his shoulder but could not find Joseph, who was no doubt better suited for this strange conversation. Mary was bent over the body, murmuring prayers in her native language. “Could it be that it’s not enough to make the sacrifice out of love for the one being redeemed? Maybe you have to make the sacrifice out of obedience to your god. Or love for him.”
Jesus closed his eyes and sighed. “Oh. Yes. Of course.” His eyes flew open. “Both.”
The chief druid came forward and sneered at Jesus. “You say you are the son of the one true god, and yet he has commanded you to surrender your own life to redeem the world. We have seen that you cannot redeem even one man. You will die, as all men do, but your death will mean nothing. Elsigar told me how your god will have you die on the cross. It will be for naught. No one will remember you.”
“My Father in heaven says that all who claim me shall have redemption.”
“And you will give your life for this. Is that so?”
“That is my choice. I make it here and now.”
“Let us say that only one hundred righteous men remember you and claim you, as your father says. Would you die for one hundred? I think that would be quite a generous estimate, to be honest.”
“I would die to save one hundred souls.”
“Let us say you lack ten to make one hundred—”
“I will die to save ninety.”
“Let us say it is only ten—perhaps a mighty king, a couple of worthy men, a few women, and some slaves. Let us say that they are the ones who remember you and claim you. Would you die for them as well?
“I would die to save just ten.”
“Let us say that all of them were slaves. Would you die for ten slaves?”
“Yes, I would suffer the cross for slaves.”
Aelhaern held up his hands and walked around, mocking Jesus. “This son of a mighty god would yield up his very life, for what?—just a few slaves. Some all-powerful and almighty god that must be!” The Belgae laughed along with the druid. Even some of the Dumnonii and Silures joined in.
“Well, Jesus, suppose it were just one slave. Suppose it were not just any slave—no. Let us suppose it is this slave.” With that, Aelhaern turned and pointed to a figure crouching on the ground, held tightly by the neck with a collar and chain.
“Save me, Jesus!” the figure cried.
It was Pirro.
“I see that you know each other,” the druid continued. “Elsigar told me about you and him. We caught him the other day trying to escape across our territory.” The druid poked at Pirro with his staff, drawing yelps from him and guffaws from the crowd. “He deserves to die just as much as your cousin, but he is such a pathetic creature, and his death would hardly restore honor to the Belgae. He is not worth our trouble. He is yours to redeem—that is, if you want him. What will it be, Jesus? Will you give your life for him?”
Jesus looked at Pirro, and slowly closed his eyes.
“Think about it.” Aelhaern continued to circle. “We all know the story. Think of how this slave tried to betray you to your enemies at Rumps. Think of how that caused the death of Fedwig. Think of how you ransomed his freedom once already and how he squandered that gift. Now tell us, Jesus. Will you die for one pathetic creature such as this?”
Jesus opened his eyes, glanced at Pirro, then turned to Aelhaern. Jesus looked the druid directly in the eye. “I will die for him. I will suffer all the pain and humiliation of crucifixion for him. If his were the only soul written in the Book of Life, I would die for him still.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Aelhaern. “What shall it be? I suppose we could arrange a crucifixion if you like, but that is not something druids do, and we would hate to frighten the children. We could burn you at the stake—the pyre is still there. I also offer you the choice of garroting—you can go the same way your cousin went—it is quick and painless.”
“My Father will have me return to my homeland,” said Jesus, “and fulfill my ministry first.”
“So is that the catch?” Aelhaern shook his head, as the crowd laughed again.
“I love the way these outlanders do business,” he said, turning to the crowd. “Yes, I will give my life in torment to redeem this poor soul. But no, I can’t do it now.” The crowd roared. “I must go home and do my ministry first, but don’t worry, just spare me the life of this murderer, and somewhere and sometime, maybe a year from now, maybe ten or maybe twenty, sometime when it is a little more—how do I put this?—sometime when it is a little more convenient, I will go through with all that torture and death.” Aelhaern shook his head. “Jesus, you may call us barbarians, but we are not fools.” He turned to the guard holding Pirro and pointed to his prisoner. “Burn him at the stake.”
As the crowd laughed, a stroke of lightning flashed from the sky and struck one of the lintels of Stonehenge.
Arvigarus looked up. A dark cloud appeared overhead. The earth shook. One by one, some of the lintels and pillars of the monument crashed to the ground. A massive voice filled the sky, coming from nowhere and everywhere. “Do not doubt the promise of my begotten son!” The lightning, thunder, and earthquake suddenly stopped, and stillness fell.
Suddenly Jesus was standing next to Arvigarus. “What happened?” he asked Jesus. “You were over there and now you are here.”
“God my Father took Elsigar and me away across time and space, and then brought us back. I’m sorry to startle you. I forgot where I was standing before.”
Joseph pointed at Elsigar and said, “Look how his face glows, just like Moses.”
“Who is Moses?” Arvigarus asked.
“He was a great prophet,” said Jesus. “One of the very few to see God…until now.”
“What happened to Elsigar’s face?”
“He too has seen God.”
Elsigar raised his hand and a hush fell over the crowd. “When the earth and sky were formed there was a creator,” he began. “The Fisher King taught the Tuatha Dé Danann of this in the ages before all human knowledge. The Jews know him by many names. Yahweh, among others. To the Fisher King he was simply the Creator. The Creator has shown me that Jesus is indeed his begotten son, and he has taken me to the time and place where Jesus will die on a dreadful Roman cross. I have seen his suffering, torment, and death. The Creator has shown me that for the divine there is no present, no past, no future. Jesus has chosen the path of obedience, and his suffering and death are real in the here and now.”