One thrilling instant more His creatures looked upon Him, — the Magdalen in rapt and speechless ecstasy, — Barabbas in stupefied, fascinated amazement mingled with a strange qualm of unbelief and misgiving, — then, all at once there came a great blankness over the land, — an emptiness and sense of desolation, — the Kingly Conqueror of Death no longer lent the lustre of His beauty to the breaking day. He was gone! — He had vanished like a summer cloud absorbed in space; and only a fragrant cluster of snow-white flowers marked the spot where He had stood. And presently, across the deep stillness that followed His departure, there came the far-off ringing of bells from the city, — then the faint stir and hum of wakening life; — the mystic marvels of the night were ended, — the first Easter morn spread fully forth its glorious golden blazon, and all aflame with wonder at the scene, the sun rose.
CHAPTER XLI.
LIKE the breaking of a charm woven by some wizard incantation, the spell which had held Barabbas dumb with awe and fear was suddenly dispersed. Recklessly springing forward without stopping to consider what he did, he confronted the Magdalen who still knelt where her Lord had left her, her enravished eyes upturned to heaven as though she saw some mystic vision of eternal joys. With hasty ruthlessness, born of a dark suspicion that rankled in his mind, Barabbas seized her by the hands.
“Wherefore dost thou pray to emptiness?” he cried loudly— “The ‘Nazarene’ was here a moment since! Whither hath he fled?”
Mary started from her trance of worship, trembled, and looked at her fierce questioner in vague yet sweet bewilderment with the half-sad, half-happy smile of one who has been brusquely wakened out of an ecstatic dream.
“Yea, truly He was here!” she answered in soft accents that thrilled with rapture— “Yea truly, though my faltering soul could not at first believe it, He hath risen from the dead! From henceforth who shall fear the terrors of the grave! He hath risen! Verily God hath manifested Himself unto us, and given comfort for the sorrow of the world!”
She seemed yet entranced, — her eyes were luminous, her face glowingly beautiful as that of some inspired angel. Barabbas grew more and more impatient.
“Woman, thou art dazed or in a vision!” he exclaimed— “Thy Master was ever a worker of miracles, and surely He hath worked them in the night that now is past! Prate not thus of His rising from the dead, — for of a truth methinks thou knowest that He hath never died!”
Slowly Mary rose from her knees and putting back the falling tresses of her long bright hair gazed at him amazedly.
“Never died!” she echoed—” What meanest thou? Art thou not Barabbas, and didst thou not behold Him die? Didst thou not weep with me for His long agony? And hast thou not looked upon Him here alive again? Art thou distraught that thou believest not in God? How camest thou hither?”
Barabbas made no answer. His dark brows were knitted frowningly; his limbs yet trembled from the agitation through which he had passed; but there was a lowering doubt within him to which he was ashamed to give utterance. He moved to the opening of the vacant tomb and peered in mistrustfully, — then after a second’s hesitation, stooped down and entered. There was nothing to be seen save the empty stone niche where the “Nazarene” had slept, and the linen grave-clothes which had enswathed Him. These were rolled together and flung aside in one corner. Coming out of the dark recess, he stood silent and dissatisfied; he longed to give voice to the suspicion that like a mocking devil assailed him and worked mischief in his mind, yet he remained abashed before the tender ecstasy, deep humility and adoring faith of the woman who in the sublimity of perfect love, seemed stronger than himself, made weak and wavering by doubt. Meanwhile, as he waited hesitatingly, watching the Magdalen, the broad beams of the sun pouring over the landscape appeared to cause a sudden movement among the hitherto inert forms of the soldiers of the watch, — and presently one of the men sprang up erect with an amazed look as though he had fallen out of the clouds.
“Ye gods!” he cried loudly— “What! — All asleep?
Galbus! Maximus! Dion! Antinus! What! Broad day and not a man waking!”
The clamour he made, and his fashion of prodding his still only half-conscious comrades with the end of his lance began to take effect, but before he could thoroughly rouse them all, Barabbas caught the Magdalen by the arm, and dragging her with him round the bend of the rocks in which the sepulchre was hewn, escaped from sight ere he could be discovered.
“Lo, there!” he muttered breathlessly, when he stood safely on the highroad beside Mary, who in her dreamy bewilderment had scarcely comprehended the hurry and alarm of his action—” If yonder Romans had seen me by the open tomb they would have sworn I had stolen the body of the ‘Nazarene,’ — for I am branded already as a robber. And thou, even thou, wouldst not have gone without suspicion, — frail woman as thou art, thou mightest have been deemed capable of treachery!”
His sombre black eyes rested darkly upon her, — but she was quite unconscious of any latent significance hidden in his words. Her countenance looked singularly fair and youthful, while it was irradiated by a holy joy that made its natural loveliness almost unearthly.
“Wilt thou now go upon thine errand?” he continued, regarding her steadfastly— “Thy Master gave thee some command, — wilt thou fulfil it? Two of thy friends have sped before thee crying, ‘He is risen!’ — now, do but add thy voice in all its sweet persuasiveness to theirs, — and lo! perchance the world will take thy word for truth Divine!”
She looked at him, first in amazement, then in sorrow and compassion.
“Thou poor Barabbas!” she said—” Hast thou then looked upon the Master’s face, and yet canst not believe in Him? What aileth thee, thou blind and suffering soul? In such a time of joy, why chainest thou thyself to misery? Speak all thy thought! — what hast thou in thy mind against me?”
“Naught against thee in very truth” — answered Barabbas slowly and reluctantly, “save that I deem thee overwrought by such a frenzy of strange faith that thou wouldst almost force a miracle! Truly I saw thy Master; and that He lived and walked and spoke I am prepared to swear, — but I repeat to thee my words — He is not dead, — He never died! And thou, Mary of Magdala, knowest this!”
Nothing but wonder now filled her clear childlike eyes.
“What meanest thou?” she asked anxiously—” I cannot follow thee, — surely thou wanderest in thy speech and reason” —
“Nay, not so!” he interrupted her harshly—” I am no woman that I should be duped by feverous visions and the crazed distemper of a vain imagining! Last night, here on these hills, I too kept secret vigil, — and nothing of any import chanced, save a sudden rising of the wind with lightning and thunder. And towards the middle of the watch, a swooning came upon me, — my senses reeled, and in the dazzlement of brain and sight, methought the lightning took strange shape and walked upon the land arrayed in wings. This blinded me, and I recall no more, for I lost hold on life till morning. Then, waking, I saw thee and thy companions coming from the city stealthily, — and afterwards while I yet waited, the twain who were thy friends came running back possessed by some distraction, and, meeting me, they swore the Crucified had risen from the dead! I believed it not, — and even now I still believe it not, though with mine own eyes I have looked upon Him living! I say that He hath never died, — upon the Cross He did but swoon! Ay!— ’twas a seeming death! — and thou, Mary, didst so melt the hearts of those who crucified Him that when they took His body from the tree, they gave it into thy charge, and to His Mother, and for pure clemency, did forbear to break His limbs. Doubtless thou also didst confer with the Arimathean counsellor, to the end that He should be laid within you unused quiet cave, where in the darkness and cool silence He hath recovered, — for was He not a master of the secrets of all healing? Nay, I am sure of nothing, — as man I can but reason! — one must be even as a bat or mole not to see through this scheme wrought by the unwise love of women! — Go thy ways, Mary! — perjure thysel
f no more, ’tis no miracle to me that thus thy Master lives!”
While he thus spoke in mingled resentment and scorn, she never moved. Listening patiently, her steadfast gaze fixed upon him, she looked the very incarnation of heavenly pity. Her lips trembled apart; she was about to speak, when another voice, clear and imperative, unexpectedly joined in the conversation, —
“Go thy ways, Mary! Fulfil thine errand and delay not; for ’tis the errand of all true women henceforth unto the end of this world’s time. An errand of love and mercy! — be thou the first one to perform it, — tell the ‘brethren’ even as thy Master bade thee that He hath risen! — that death is conquered by immortality, and that He ascends! — unto His Father, whom now through Him we know as Father of us all!”
And Melchior stood before them, his eyes flashing a mingled sorrow and satire. Barabbas stared at him afraid and ashamed; how had he managed to arrive on the scene so silently, that his approach had not even been observed? Meeting his cold ironic regard, Barabbas felt suddenly humiliated though he could not have told why; Melchior meanwhile continued, —
“Well hast thou kept thy vigil, friend Barabbas! — as faithfully and observantly in very truth as those admirable followers of the ‘Nazarene,’ who, when He besought them to watch beside Him for one hour, could not deprive themselves of sleep for all their boasted love and faithfulness! Thou, erring and wilful sinner as thou art, hast been privileged to see the Divine and live, — and yet thou dost deem a very God, imposture, measured by the ruling of thy finite reason! Did I not tell thee thou wert man’s true type? — and a perfect representative of thy unbelieving race? Mary,” and he turned to the Magdalen with a gentle reverence—” I pray thee linger here no longer, — but haste to bear thy news to those who are bidden to receive it; though verily ’tis certain that not one, not even the repentant Petrus, will at first believe thy tidings. Men will work bravely to support their own lies, but scarce a soul shall be found on earth willing to bear pure witness to God’s Truth. But keep thou thy faith, Mary! — on woman’s love and patience rests the world’s future.”
She gave one fleeting, startled glance at him of questioning surprise and fear, — then instinctively obeying his authoritative gesture she hastened away, her grey garments and gold hair floating together like mingled sun and cloud as she sped citywards.
“Thou dark distrustful soul!” then said Melchior to his moody companion, “ How deservest thou any kindness of fate, seeing thou hast looked upon a God and known Him not? Heavy would be thy punishment wert thou alone in thy perversity and sin, — but take good comfort! — all thy race are with thee! — thou art, despite thyself the true ‘King of the Jews!’ Behold the watch where they come, all agape with wonder and dismay! — well may they look thus wildly, for their news is of that strangeness that some among them will scarce have skill to utter it. Stand we aside a space while they pass by.”
He drew Barabbas apart, and they both observed with differently mixed feelings the disorderly and scrambling approach of the soldiers who were coming away from the sepulchre and hurrying towards the town. They all looked only half awake and dazed with bewilderment; the centurion Galbus no longer headed the band, but walked, or rather stumbled along in the midst, supported by two of his men, who held him up apparently despite himself. He was ghastly pale, — his eyes had a fixed, unseeing stare, — he seemed like one stricken by paralysis and rendered suddenly old. Melchior glanced at him, and stepped forward —— —
“Greeting to Rome?” he said, confronting the party—” What ails your leader?”
The soldiers halted, and Maximus, who was in command, replied curtly —
“We answer no questions from strangers. Stand back and let us pass!”
Quietly Melchior lifted his right hand, displaying a broad jewelled ring on the centre finger.
“Be civil, good Roman!” he said—” Respect the Emperor’s signet.”
The astonished Maximus hastily saluted, — there was no mistake about the matter, — the mysterious stranger did indeed possess the Imperial talisman; and its authority was immediately recognised.
“I crave pardon, sir,” — murmured Maximus apologetically—” But in this tributary province of Judæa each man of Rome must be upon his guard” —
“Ay! and keep good vigil too, as no doubt ye all have done throughout the night — interrupted Melchior—” Nothing, of course, hath chanced of any import? Ye have left the dead safely entombed?”
Silence followed. The soldiers looked down confusedly, — Maximus shivered as though the warm morning sun chilled him, — but the pallid-featured Galbus made no sign, and only stared on vaguely, straight ahead, like a blind man dreaming of light.
“Sir” — replied Maximus after a pause—” Of the past night there is much to tell, — but methinks it must be told first to those who have the ruling of the law among the Jews. Rome did not slay the ‘Nazarene,’ and for that death our governor hath publicly refused to be accountable. Neither can Rome be blamed for what hath now so strangely chanced — for lo, the seals of the Sanhedrim council are broken; the stone that closed the tomb is rolled away; and the body of the crucified Prophet hath been taken from thence, — but how these things were done I know not. I do confess we slept when we should have watched, — but truly there were strange sorceries all about us! A singing of birds was in the air; so sweet that we were fain to listen, — and towards morning we beheld the heavens on fire, — that is, Galbus and myself beheld it, for these others slept — Here he lowered his voice and spoke almost in a whisper—” The burden of the telling of this tale devolves on me, for Galbus is deprived of speech, — he can express nothing of what he saw, — the lightning that flashed across the land hath stricken him wholly dumb!”
“So shall he bear no garrulous witness to the wonders of the night” — said Melchior with a grave and kindly glance at the bent and drooping figure of the lately stalwart centurion, “Yet be consoled, good soldier. ’Tis but a temporary silence and will pass. Whither go ye now? To Pilate?”
“Yea, to Pilate first and then to Caiaphas” — answered Maximus—” There shall I plainly speak of what I know. And if thou be the Emperor’s friend, good sir, I do beseech thee to mistake us not, — we have been ever honoured in the legion for prowess and vigilance till now, and truly I cannot tell how we were all entranced away from watchfulness. Nevertheless I will assert before the Tribunal, yea, and before the whole Sanhedrim, that no man’s force, be he Jew or Roman, can stand against the powers of Heaven!” And he looked round at the dazed and helpless Galbus, marking him out by an impressive gesture as the living proof of the terrors of the past vigil.
Melchior drew back.
“Fear not, soldier! Thou shalt not lose place in the legion, nor shalt thou lack protection from Cæsar. On to the city! — present this dumb centurion to Caiaphas, — and speak thou the truth as it is apparent unto thee, but doubt not that a lie will be quickly substituted for it! The lie will best suit the Jews, ‘twill cost little trouble to keep up, being prone to propagate itself in endless forms, — but the Truth will need fighting for and dying for through ages yet to come! Farewell! In whatsoever way I can, I will commend thee to the Emperor.”
Again Maximus saluted profoundly, and the men resumed their dusty hurried march. As they went, one said to his fellow, —
“Yonder stranger who doth wear our Emperor’s signet is not particular in choice of comrades, for with him was Barabbas!” –Barabbas Text–
“Barabbas!” echoed the other— “He that was released from punishment of death in place of the ‘Nazarene’?”
“Even he. ’Tis said he was a robber.”
They trudged on through the thick white dust, and presently the whole company arrived at the gates of the city, where they were met by a rabble of the Jewish populace who hailed them with shouts of derision. The rumour had already gone abroad that the crucified Prophet of Nazareth had risen from the dead, and though none believed in the miracle, there
were a few superstitious souls in the crowd who imparted to others their notion that He had not really died and moreover could not die. But the general impression was that the Body had been stolen from the tomb in spite of all precaution, — that the soldiers had been plied with wine, and in all probability drugged into a lethargy, and that while they slept off the effects of over-much liquor, the disciples of the “Nazarene” had moved away the stone from the sepulchre and carried off their dead Master. In any case Roman vigilance had been baffled, and to the Jewish mob there was something peculiarly pleasing in this defeat. They yelled and hooted round the discomfited “watch,” — pointing out the tottering Galbus with jeers as “one that hath not yet recovered from his winebibbing!” and formed a disorderly cortège up to the house of Pilate. There, when the great portal was unbarred to admit the soldiers, and these passed in, the malcontents remained for a little time outside, shouting ironical applause for the valour of Rome, — then, tired of their own clamour, gradually dispersed.
Meanwhile, Barabbas once more in the shelter of the inn where Melchior lodged, turned to that strange personage and asked abruptly, —
“How camest thou to wear the Emperor’s signet?”
“That is my business, not thine, Barabbas!” responded Melchior tranquilly—” Learn thou the first rule of civility, which is, to ask no questions on matters which do not concern thee. The Emperor is my friend, — and for a service I have done him I hold Rome itself in fee.”
Barabbas opened his eyes wide in astonishment, and would certainly have pressed for further information had he not been interrupted at that moment by a soft knocking at the door, and the sound of a voice calling eagerly —
“Open! Open quickly! I have news for Barabbas. It is I, — Mary of Magdala.”
CHAPTER XLII.
IN answer to this summons they unlatched the door, and confronted the Magdalen on the threshold. She was breathless with running, and her eyes expressed a great and compassionate anxiety.
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli Page 317