Christopher Moore: Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal

At first light Maggie and I were pounding on Joseph’s door. A servant let us in. When Joseph came out from his bedchamber I had to hold Maggie back to keep her from attacking him.

“You betrayed him!”

“I did not,” said Joseph.

“John said you were with the priests,” I said.

“I was. I followed them up to keep them from killing Joshua for trying to escape, or in self-defense, right there at Gethsemane.”

“What do you mean, ‘in self-defense’?”

“They want him dead, Maggie,” Joseph said. “They want him dead, but they don’t have the authority to execute him, don’t you understand that? If I hadn’t been there they could have murdered him and said that he’d attacked them first. The Romans are the only ones who have the authority to have someone killed.”

“Herod had John the Baptist killed,” I said. “There were no Romans involved in that.”

“Jakan and his thugs stone people all of the time,” Maggie said. “Without Roman approval.”

“Think, you two. This is Passover week. The city is crawling with Romans watching for rebellious Jews. The entire Sixth Legion is here, plus all of Pilate’s personal guard from Caesarea. Normally there’d only be a handful. The high priests, the Sanhedrin, the Pharisee council, even Herod will think twice before they do anything outside the letter of Roman law. Don’t panic. There hasn’t even been a trial in the Sanhedrin yet.”

“When will there be a trial?”

“This afternoon, probably. They have to bring everyone in. The prosecution is gathering witnesses against Joshua.”

“What about witnesses for him?” I asked.

“That’s not how it works,” said Joseph. “I’ll speak for him, and so will my friend Nicodemus, but other than that Joshua will have to defend himself.”

“Swell,” Maggie said.

“Who is prosecuting him?”

“I thought you’d know,” Joseph said, cringing slightly. “The one who started the Sanhedrin plots against Joshua the other two times, Jakan bar Iban.”

Maggie whirled around and glared at me. “You should have killed him.”

“Me? You had seventeen years to push the guy down the steps or something.”

“There’s still time,” she said.

“That won’t help Joshua now,” said Joseph. “Just hope that the Romans won’t hear his case.”

“You sound as if he’s already convicted,” I said.

“I’ll do my best.” Joseph didn’t sound very confident.

“Get us in to see him.”

“And let them arrest the two of you? I don’t think so. You stay here. You can have the upper rooms to yourselves. I’ll come back or send word as soon as anything happens.”

Joseph hugged Maggie and kissed her on the top of the head, then left the room to get dressed.

“Do you trust him?” Maggie said.

“He warned Joshua before when they wanted to kill him.”

“I don’t trust him.”

Maggie and I waited all day in the upper room, jumping to our feet every time we heard footsteps going by in the street, until we were exhausted and shaking from worry. I asked one of Joseph’s servant girls to go down to the palace of the high priest to see what was going on. She returned a short time later to report that the trial was still going on.

Maggie and I made a nest of the cushions under the wide arched window in the front, so we could hear the slightest noise coming from the street, but as night started to fall, the footsteps became fewer and farther between, the distant singing from the Temple faded, and we settled into each other’s arms, a single lump of low, agonizing grief. Sometime after dark we made love together for the first time since the night before Joshua and I left for the Orient. All those years had passed, and yet it seemed familiar. That first time, so long ago, making love was a desperate way to share the grief we felt because we were each about to lose someone we loved. This time we were losing the same person. This time, we slept afterward.

Joseph of Arimathea didn’t come home.

It was Simon and Andrew who stormed up the steps to wake us Thursday morning. I threw my tunic over Maggie and jumped to my feet in just a loincloth. As soon as I saw Simon I felt the heat rise in my face.

“You treacherous bastard!” I was too angry to hit him. I just stood there screaming at him. “You coward!”

“It wasn’t him,” screamed Andrew in my ear.

“It wasn’t me,” said Simon. “I tried to fight the guards when they came to get Joshua. Peter and I both did.”

“Judas was your friend. You and your Zealot bullshit!”

“He was your friend too.”

Andrew pushed me away. “Enough! It wasn’t Simon. I saw him face two guards with spears. Leave him be. We don’t have time for your tantrum, Biff. Joshua is being flogged at the high priest’s palace.”

“Where’s Joseph?” Maggie said. She’d dressed while I had been railing at Simon.

“He’s gone on to the praetorium that Pilate set up at the Antonia Palace by the Temple.”

“What the hell’s he doing there if Joshua is being beaten at the palace in this end of the city?”

“That’s where they’ll take Joshua next. He was convicted of blasphemy, Biff. They want a death sentence. Pontius Pilate is the ruling authority in Judea. Joseph knows him, he’s going to ask for Joshua’s release.”

“What do we do? What do we do?” I was starting to get hysterical. Since I could remember, my friendship with Joshua had been my anchor, my reason for being, my life; now it, he, was running toward destruction like a storm-driven ship to a reef, and I couldn’t think of a thing to do but panic. “What do we do? What do we do?” I panted, the breath refusing to fill my lungs. Maggie grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.

“You have a plan, remember.” She tugged on the amulet around my neck.

“Right, right,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Right. The plan.” I grabbed my tunic and slipped it over my head. Maggie helped me wrap the sash.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” I said.

He forgave me with the wave of a hand. “What do we do?”

“If they’re taking Joshua to the praetorium, that’s where we go. If Pilate releases him then we’ll need to get him out of there. There’s no telling what Josh will do to get them to kill him.”

We were waiting along with a huge crowd outside the Antonia Palace when the Temple guards brought Joshua to the front gates. The high priest, Caiaphas, wearing his blue robes and with a jewel-encrusted chest piece, led the procession. His father, Annas, who had been the high priest previously, followed right behind. A column of guards surrounded Joshua in the middle of the procession. We could just see him amid the guards, and I could tell that someone had put a fresh tunic on him, but there were stripes of blood soaking through the back. He looked as if he was in a trance.

There was a great deal of posturing and shouting between the Temple guards, and from somewhere in the procession Jakan came forward and started arguing with the soldiers as well. It was obvious that the Romans were not going to let the Temple guards enter the praetorium, so the transfer of the prisoner was going to take place there at the gate or not at all. I was measuring whether I could sneak through the crowd, snap Jakan’s neck, and sneak back out without jeopardizing our plan when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked around to see Joseph of Arimathea.

“At least it wasn’t a Roman scourge they lashed him with. He took thirty-nine lashes, but it was just leather, not the lead-tipped whip that the Romans use. That would have killed him.”

“Where were you? What took so long?”