by Ken Hansen
A woman from the crowd yelled out, “But Skjöldr withdrew the peace treaty after we rejected it. You stood here and told us to reject it. So how can we now do what you ask?”
“The peace treaty was deeply flawed. It would have divided us and deported us from our own land. No, another, honorable peace is possible, one in which we can live in peace where we wish within Tetepe. Our own hatred spurs the Juteslams actions. We must end the hatred on both sides. We must accept that we will never remove the Juteslams from Tetepe. We must learn to live in this land with equality and justice for all, not just for Tetepians, but for each and every Juteslam. Yes, we fight when we need to defend ourselves, but we must learn to engage in peaceful protests and other civil actions against Juteslam injustices wherever they may exist.”
“Peaceful protests?” Raanan laughed. “Are you crazy? They will just mow us down.”
“The Juteslam leaders are not stupid. The world will sit in judgment, and they do not wish to be alone against the world. And it is to the world that we shall appeal. We have friends abroad. We can find others to aid in our cause. But we must lose the hate!”
Yohanan panned through the faces of the crowd. Though he was losing most of them, a few were still behind him. The most active Demoseps and a few of their leaders would side with Raanan, but even some of his old Demosep friends had nodded their heads when he had spoken.
The crowd parted as a beautiful blond woman made her way through it to the platform. It was Decima.
Yohanan grinned. Decima would come to his side and help him turn the crowd. He reached to help her up to the platform, but felt the slap of her hand on his forearm as she jumped up herself. When he looked in her eyes, her disgust punched him in the gut. All is lost.
She turned toward the crowd. “Most of you know me. I am Decima, daughter of Quintillus, the Romanus merchant who was murdered a few months ago for helping our cause. I saw him shot in the head as that filthy Hugleikr pronounced sentence on him without any trial or evidence. And I, for one, will never stop hating him and the Juteslams for it!”
Much of the crowd cheered.
“Yohanan speaks of peace, but he dishonors the loss of all our loved ones. We cannot rest until the Juteslams responsible for these atrocities suffer the same fate at our hands!” Another cheer.
“Yohanan would like you to believe the majority of Juteslams are innocents simply because they don’t take up arms against us. He is wrong. By choosing to keep the demons Skjöldr and Hugleikr in power, they are just as responsible for the murders of Tetepians. That is right: the blood of your loved ones spilled on this very ground drips from all of their hands!
“So Yohanan can go perform his pathetic little peace protests and rot in jail if he wants. He would turn you into the same collared dogs of Skjöldr begging for scraps about which he complained two months ago when his head was still on straight. No, the Demoseps will not follow him, for he has lost his way. He has become a coward! We will carry on and fight against the hated Juteslams. Yes, I said, ‘hated,’ Yohanan. It is not a dirty word, for the Juteslams deserve our hate, and I for one will give it to them along with the bullets from my rap rifle! Let’s go!”
The crowd cheered. Decima turned, waved the crowd to follow her, and then walked off the platform toward the edge of the marketplace followed by Raanan. Many fell behind them as they made their way to the tavern there. The rest of the crowd dispersed.
In the center of the square, still on the platform, Yohanan remained standing alone, looking down, devastated at the suddenness of his defeat and realizing the bleakness of his new reality: hatred always seemed to vanquish the truth, even the Great Truth. A few dozen stragglers walked up to him and thanked him for his encouraging words and deep courage. A few even offered to join him in his new struggle for peace. Achak strode slowly up to Yohanan with his head down. The two men embraced. When he pulled away, Achak nodded and winked.
Yohanan turned and looked at the small cadre of his fellow countrymen who accepted his message. It might not be enough, but it was a beginning. The images of death flashed again in his eyes and he closed them, and he saw Isa telling him he would prepare the way. He nodded his head. This was the way.
Chapter 55
The familiar patterns of Isa’s address told Tomadus that he would soon arrive at that magical moment. After travelling with Isa and the Ten through the Mahdian Empire, Tomadus could now tune out the familiar stories while keeping a small part of his ear open for the shift, when some question from the crowd spurred yet another insight from Isa that Tomadus had never heard or considered.
Tomadus took these few minutes to take in the great beauty of the Pontus Euxinus as it slapped Tomis Beach with waves from the east. He enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his face for a few seconds until a gust from the early spring wind swept the warmth away. Isa was sitting on a raised platform on the beach, just a few steps from the sea, the sun high at his back in the late morning, its rays lighting up the faces of nearly a thousand curious locals standing below and in front of the ancient city of Constanta. He hoped they were not all local Constantans.
His squinted eyes scanned the faces for the powerful man with the oxymoron visage. Since they were less than a thousand milia passuum from the eastern edge of what was left of the Romanus Empire, Tomadus had asked the First Counsel to finally come see Isa for himself. He would not join the crowd but remain separate and protected. He looked above the seawall separating the beach from the city proper and saw the security detail first. He looked closer and saw the First Consul sitting on one of the few benches, alone except for the four guards standing around him and keeping the way in front of him clear. The First Counsel was looking at him. Tomadus nodded at the First Consul just as the question came.
A man wearing a salmon-colored cloth turban took a few steps forward from the crowd and asked, “Teacher, you have told us to be perfect, but we are only human. No matter how hard I try, I know I will still fall short of perfection. Must I truly attain perfection always to satisfy Allah and be welcomed into His kingdom in Heaven?”
Isa responded, “Follow me and you will find what you seek.”
The man did not relent. “Yes, I know. But suppose I follow you and listen and try to do as you say but still falter? Am I damned for all time? Will Allah forgive me?”
Isa responded again, “You are a Mahdian, are you not?” The man nodded. “Then take some guidance from your Great Book, which tells you that Allah is most forgiving and merciful. To cleanse and purify, you should give alms to the poor, the needy, those who administer them, those whose hearts need winning over, to free the unjustly imprisoned and help those in debt, for God’s cause, and for travelers in need. The Father is all hearing, all knowing. The Father Himself accepts repentance from His servants and receives what is given freely for His sake. Take action! Allah will see your actions, and then you will be returned to Him who knows what is seen and unseen.”
Isa looked up from the man and stretched out his hands to the crowd. “All of you take heed. At the end of the age, the Son of Man will come and split the people into those on his right and left. To those on his right he will say, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And he will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’
“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, a stranger and
you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.’ Then they will answer and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs?’ He will answer them, ‘Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’ And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life. Follow me and find the Way to salvation!” Isa walked off the platform.
The crowd murmured its approval. Some stayed, hoping for more words from Isa. A few dispersed. Tomadus nodded toward the First Consul and flashed a warm smile full of pride. The First Consul returned the gesture, and Tomadus breathed easier.
A group of young Mahdians walked up to Isa and began bowing to him and calling him the “Mahdi” and proclaiming that he would finally return peace and justice to the world. Isa smiled at this but neither acknowledged nor rejected their proclamation. When the men departed, Tomadus looked back at the First Consul only to see him shaking his head and frowning.
Several men carried a man whose limbs appeared shriveled and twisted up to Isa. One of the men begged Isa in Arabic to cure his brother. “I have heard the stories of your miracles. My brother has been crippled and in pain for these twenty years, yet I know that if you ask it of our Lord in Heaven, my brother will be cured. Please, I beg of you, help this poor man who has suffered so much.” His brother looked up at Isa with a look of great longing.
Isa touched the crippled. “Your faith has healed him. Please, rise and walk and be in pain no more!” With this, the cripple stretched out, his arms and legs releasing from their corkscrew configuration, and he stood up and embraced Isa, tears pouring from his eyes.
Tomadus had seen Isa perform cures before, but nothing so significant or dramatic. Mouth open and eyes narrowed, he tilted his head and looked at the healed cripple and back again at Isa. He leaned over to Diego, one of the Ten, and asked, “How do we know this man who walked away?”
Diego chuckled and shook his head.
Tomadus said, “Then how did he do this?”
Diego looked toward the sky with his palms toward the heavens.
Tomadus looked at the cripple and tilted his head. But there must be a scientific explanation. Tomadus caught up with the former cripple as he walked slowly away with his brother. “May I see your arms and legs?” Tomadus asked. When the man showed his limbs, Tomadus saw strange light markings down them twisting along their axis. Were these part of Isa’s cure? No, they are merely differences in pigmentation. The long twisted lines of skin had obviously been hidden from the beating sun for many years. He tried one more line of questioning, “What did the master do to cure you? Did he give you a drug? What did you feel?”
“He only touched me and my body tingled all over. I know not what he did, but I know Allah hears him.”
Tomadus just nodded and walked back to the Ten and Isa, who was laying hands on several others with difficulties, and one by one they were apparently cured and began rejoicing and praising his name and that of God, sometimes using the name Allah and sometimes referring to him simply as Lord or Father. When the line of people seeking help ended, Isa and the Ten brought fruit and bread out of their backpacks, retreated to a quiet corner of the beach, said a prayer, and began to eat.
One of the local Jewish leaders approached the group and chastised them, saying, “Why do you and your followers break the tradition of the Elders? You eat without first washing your hands. Do you not understand that you are defiled?”
A local Mahdian elder nodded and added, “Yes, by the Hadith, the Messenger of Allah said, ‘The blessings in the meal is by washing before and after it.’ Yet you do not follow this tradition of our faith. What is wrong with you?”
Shaking his head, Isa set down his apple. “You hypocrites, you follow these human traditions instead of the commandments of God to secure your comfort and power.” He looked at the Jewish leader and said, “How well you have set aside the commandment of God in order to uphold your tradition! For Moses said, ‘Honor your father and your mother,’ yet if a person says to father or mother, ‘Any support you might have had from me is dedicated to God,’ you allow him to do nothing more for his father or mother. You nullify the word of God in favor of human tradition.”
Isa turned to the Mahdian. “Your Great Book says ‘Let there be no compulsion in religion: Truth stands out clearly from falsehood,’ yet your history is full of wars with your brothers brought to extend your sects to their people and leaders who force the conversion of infidels at the point of a sword.”
Isa looked at the Jew and back at the Mahdian. “Isaiah spoke well about both of your peoples when he said, ‘This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines human precepts.’ Hear and understand. It is not what enters one’s mouth that defiles that person. What comes out of the mouth is what defiles one.”
The two religious leaders left without another word.
“But, Master, are they not right to criticize us for not following the law?” Simeon asked.
“Even you are still without understanding?” Isa asked. “Do you not realize that everything that enters the mouth passes into the stomach and is expelled into the latrine? But the things that come out of the mouth come from the heart, and they defile. For from the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, unchastity, theft, false witness, blasphemy. These are what defile a person, not eating with unwashed hands.”
Tomadus turned to see the First Consul begin walking away from the beach surrounded by several men of his security detail. Tomadus rushed up the stairs of the seawall and approached him. “First Consul, may I have a word with you?”
“Yes, ride with me.” They both entered his official vehicle.
“Thank you for attending this gathering. What are your impressions of Isa?”
The First Consul paused for a few seconds, apparently in deep thought. Then he turned toward Tomadus with a funny smile on his face, not humorous, but strange, somewhat forced, with his lips too tightly drawn. “He does seem to want to help the poor. He is quite an orator and showman. I see why the throngs follow him. How do you suppose he pulled off that ‘healing’ of the cripple? It was quite impressive.”
“Yes. I have no real explanation for it. I believe the man was actually a contorted cripple—did you see the paleness of the skin that had been hidden from the sun? But, what did you think of his message? His words span Jewish and Muslim traditions, but go beyond them both. They reach out to all—even to many Romani. He is a coalescing force.”
“He speaks impressively, but is his message coalescing? I’m not sure. I am quite concerned that he did not correct the exuberant followers who called him the Mahdi.”
“Does it not refer to a master in the Mahdian Empire?”
The First Counsel frowned and shook his head. “You do not yet comprehend the danger of these proclamations. The Mahdian Empire is separate from the Shi’ite Muslim Empire because the Mahdians believe that the Twelfth Imam, Muhammad al-Mahdi, disappeared in the third century AH and has remained in occultation, or spiritual hiding, ever since. According to their belief, he is an infallible descendant of Muhammad. He is similar to the messiah still anticipated by the Jews—except the Mahdians see the Mahdi as the Great Imam who will return peace and justice to Islam.”
“What danger is there in that? Isa seeks peace for the entire world.”
The First Consul sighed and frowned. “You are more sophisticated than that. If this Isa of yours gains enough followers who believe such things, what do you think the Three Emperors might do?”
“I don’t know. He does not seek power. He did not call himself Mahdi.”
“No, I doubt he even believes that, but our religious leaders may be troubled if they find him insincere. If he is a fraud, he will never bring the world together, but will drive it apart. The consequences could be ugly—for the world and for h
im.”
Tomadus’s heart almost stopped. “I have no doubt he is sincere in trying to bring the world together. Do not judge him by a few misguided followers. Do the religious leaders suspect his is a fraud or are you speculating?”
“I am only speculating as I look out for your interests, Tomadus. His sincerity is critical. If they do not believe him…”
“I understand. We must change their perspectives. I know he merely seeks to teach us to love one another. Could we convince these leaders of that?”
“Perhaps. We shall see. The time is not ripe. Please keep an eye on him and we will see when we can address it.”
“I will do what I can.” As soon as he had finished saying this, a twinge of guilt gripped Tomadus. Had he now become the spy that Isa predicted? No. Never.
First Consul Khansensius replied, “Good. Now I have some excellent news for you. I have secured a meeting for you with Skjöldr, though unfortunately you must travel to that wretched Tetepe.”
Tomadus beamed. “Gratias, First Consul. I will travel there immediately.”