Williams Niall - John

He is a sign that he himself does not understand.

Teach me, he prays. Where do I wrong? Teach me to live as you wish.

That night Lemuel lies on the floor by the Apostle's bed. He cannot tell if he sleeps or not. He listens for each breath. When he rises in the dawn, John is awake already.

'We must find Papias,' he says.

'We have searched, Master.'

'You must bear me to Matthias.'

'But you are weak, it is not prudent. The city is. .'

John raises his right hand. 'To Matthias, bear me there. We will find Papias.'

'Let Danil go, or I shall. There is no need for you. You are weak. .'

'There is need for me yet.'

'I did not mean. .'

'It is all right, Lemuel. I am to go. Will you bring me thither?'

He is borne from the house in the early morning on a litter lain with a blanket of sheep's wool. The disciples all go with him. The way is crowded and already filled with traffic of commerce. Seabirds are come ashore in forecast of storm; they pilfer and squawk. Criers already rend the air with prices. The Christians then are a quiet caravan, aloof, privately purposeful. They cross from the district of alleyways and crooked lanes into the broader thoroughfare. The key of season is turned; the sky blotched with cloud. Small gusts of salt wind blow. Watchful of the heavens, traders lay stones on their wares, lower their prices a fraction.

Ephesus has seen all the world, its oddity and grandeur both, and pays little attention to the litter-borne apostle. Those who take notice think only it is one being carried to a tomb.

There are as ever in the streets the proclaimers, the soothsayers, the testifiers, and the priest. The weather changing is apt topic, the storm approaches. Here one points to the sky with force and conviction, declares he sees the seam rendering; here another tells the talk of the wind. The Christians press on. But on the edge of the square they are blocked by a crowd gathered for the spectacle of the gospel seller. The others have seen him before, but have not told the Apostle. He is a bearded, long-haired crier who waves a clutch of scrolls.

'Here, here, come gather and listen! Here is told the bloody crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth.'

For better market, he has a youth in loincloth and crown of thorn bush standing head-bowed alongside.

'Read, read the suffering of the carpenter's son!' he cries. And then commences by striking at the youth's bare back with a knotted lash.

An O from the crowd draws him on. He lashes again. The youth withers.

The seller knows his tale by heart. He knows what moves his audience, what vanity and righteousness make of man, and tells, 'Here, see he who thought himself a second God. Read what was his punishment. Read the words written by those who were witness. Read the gospel of Boas for each lash told. The gospel of Judas, who loved Jesus, here the very nails driven, look! A bargain. Truly. A reminder to all the sin of pride.'

What sorrow it is for John to hear cannot be imagined. Love is grief and anger.

The disciples call out to make way, and he is brought past and away. But already in the after-moments, in the strange bumped floating of the litter through the streets where John is borne like a last remnant of truth, something is happening. It happens with suffering. It happens as the sky clouds quicken and the light moves dark and bright and dark again. The wind from the east comes. The birds like torn things scatter and return. The air is made bitter. John says nothing. He lies in the first vision of new knowledge, in the place where it is first nothing but light without shape or form, a candescence that makes wince. He knows but does not know what yet. The thing that happens is whiteness only, is brilliance and illumination neither tender nor comforting but such as to cause pain. For in light is former darkness shown. There is something that happens. It is an inner blinding. But of it nothing can be spoken yet.

The litter is borne out from the city to the house of Matthias.

'Are you well, Master?' Melitios asks, for the Apostle has made no movement or sound. 'This is the place.'

'Tell we have come for Papias.'

Danil knocks. The disciples wait. A sinewy shaven-head figure with pale eyebrows that they do not at first recognise as Linus opens the door. He wears a blue robe to the ground; his hands he cups before his chest.

'We are come to talk with Papias.'

'Papias?' The name is like sourness in Linus's mouth. He tongue-tips his full lips. 'Papias is not here.'

He goes to close the door against them, but Danil stops him, seizes his arm. 'We have come to see him, where is he?'

Linus shrugs free, smoothes the fall of his robe. 'We are holy men here,' he says in distaste. 'None stay who do not wish it. Papias is not here. He went off. He is unclean.'

'Unclean? You who were one of us now call us. .'

'He is diseased. His flesh rots. You knew and sent him to us, Auster says. That you might strike at the Holy One.'

'He is. . you lie.'

'His skin falls off Linus presses forward his head to spit the phrase. 'He is dead now.'

Danil must keep himself from striking him.

'Bring us to Matthias,' John says.

Linus wets his lips. There is authority in the Apostle he fears yet.

'The Holy One is in the sanctum. He fasts. He is not to be disturbed.'

'Bring us there,' John says, and the disciples push past the remonstrations of the other and go through the building, opening doors, until they come to a place of candles and incense and a stone altar upon which lies Matthias. He remains perfectly still.

'Matthias!' Lemuel calls.

Still the other does not move.

Lemuel approaches. 'Matthias, where is Papias?'

Very slowly, with such deliberation of movement as to be considered grace, Matthias raises himself, to the air above makes a circular blessing with his right hand. Then he steps down from the altar.

He smiles to see this ancient man come before him.

'Old man,' he says. 'Do yet you see the light? Are you come to confess the true way?'

'We are come for Papias,' Lemuel says stoutly. 'He has been here?'

Matthias stands some way back from them.

'He has, but I could not save him. He was eaten with contagion.'

'Where is he?' John asks.

'He is dead.' Matthias smiles. 'Your Christ did not come to save him. He knew this and came to me. He confessed himself unclean, and I cleansed him of the sin of ignorance.'

John raises his voice. 'You are an Antichrist. You are the evil that is in the world.'

'Old man, it is you are the corruption. This Papias came to know. I see he did not tell you that he was a leper. He feared to. Why? Why did he not come to you? Why did he come to your charity and love? I will tell you. Because he came to know you are nothing but a useless old man waiting to die. What else are you? I showed him the true gospel of John I bought in the market. Have you one? They have many. Papias read it and knew you were nothing. Even in the gospel your Jesus is only a prophet. You are a vain old fool who has lied himself to importance. Who believes what you say?' Matthias glares about at the disciples. 'These old men? These who went out from their own people and made outcasts of themselves? Papias came to know. To understand. He came to ask to follow me. To be one of us. Already once I had brought him back from the dead. But he had doubted the One too long, too long he had turned his back on the Divine, and so his own back was eaten first. His flesh. .' he scowls in disgust, '. . was putrefied.'

'You are lying!' Danil shouts.

'O stout Danil, stout in ignorance to the last. On his knees Papias begged that I heal him. Yea, there where you stand he wept and pleaded, kissed my hand.'

'Come, let us leave this evil,' John says, 'we have no business here.'