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

Now the resentment drained from his face and was replaced by amazement. “You’re going to bring him back, aren’t you?”

“I just want to bury my friend’s body intact.”

“You’re going to bring him back from the dead. Like the soldier at Sepphoris, the one the Sicarii killed. That’s why you need his body undamaged.”

“Something like that,” I nodded, looking at the floor to avoid the old soldier’s eyes.

Justus nodded, obviously shaken. “Pilate has to authorize the body to be taken down. Crucifixion is supposed to stand as an example to others.”

“I have a friend who can get the body released.”

“Joshua could still be set free, you know?”

“He won’t be,” I said. “He doesn’t want to be.”

Justus turned from me then. “I’ll give the orders. Kill him quickly, then take the body and get it out of my jurisdiction even quicker.”

“Thank you, Justus.”

“Don’t embarrass any more of my officers or your friend will be asking for two bodies.”

When I came out of the fortress Maggie ran into my arms. “It’s horrible. They put a crown of thorns on his head and the crowd spit on him. The soldiers beat him.” The crowd milled around us.

“Where is he now?”

The crowd roared and people began pointing up to the balcony. Pilate stood there next to Joshua, who was being held by two soldiers. Joshua stared straight ahead, still looking as if he were in a trance. Blood was running into his eyes.

Pilate raised his arms and the crowd went quiet. “I have no complaint with this man, yet your priests say that he has committed blasphemy. This is no crime under Roman law,” said Pilate. “What would you have me do with him?”

“Crucify him!” screamed someone next to me. I looked over to see Jakan waving a fist. The other Pharisees began chanting, “Crucify him, crucify him.” And soon the whole crowd seemed to join in. Among the crowd I saw the few of Joshua’s followers that were left begin to slink away before the anger was turned on them. Pilate made a gesture as if he was washing his hands and walked inside.

Eleven apostles, Maggie, Joshua’s mother, and his brother James gathered at the upper room of Joseph of Arimathea’s house. The merchant had been to see Pilate and the governor agreed to release Joshua’s body in honor of the Passover.

Joseph explained: “The Romans aren’t stupid, they know our women prepare the dead, so we can’t send the apostles to get him. The soldiers will give the body to Maggie and Mary. James, since you’re his brother, they’ll allow you to come along to help carry him. The rest of you should keep your faces covered. The Pharisees will be looking for Joshua’s followers. The priests have already spent too much time on this during a feast week, so they’ll all be at the Temple. I’ve bought a tomb near the hill where they’ll crucify him. Peter, you will wait there.”

“What if I can’t heal him?” Peter said. “I’ve never even tried to raise the dead.”

“He won’t be dead,” I said. “He just won’t be able to move. I couldn’t find the ingredients I needed to make a potion to kill the pain, so he’ll look dead, but he’ll feel everything. I know what it’s like, I was in that state for weeks once. Peter, you’ll have to heal the wounds from the lash and the nails, but they shouldn’t be mortal. I’ll give him the antidote as soon as he’s out of sight of the Romans. Maggie, as soon as they give him to you, close his eyes if they’re open or they’ll dry out.”

“I can’t watch it,” Maggie said. “I can’t watch them nail him to that tree.”

“You don’t have to. Wait at the tomb. I’ll send someone to get you when it’s time.”

“Can this work?” Andrew said. “Can you bring him back, Biff?”

“I’m not bringing him back from anything. He won’t be dead, he’ll just be hurt.”

“We’d better go,” said Joseph, looking out the window at the sky. “They’ll bring him out at noon.”

A crowd had gathered outside of the praetorium, but most were merely curious; only a few of the Pharisees, among them Jakan, had actually come out to see Joshua executed. I stayed back, almost a half-block away, watching. The other disciples were spread out, wearing shawls or turbans that covered their faces. Peter had sent Bartholomew to sit with Maggie and Mary at the tomb. No shawl could disguise his bulk or his stench.

Three heavy crossbeams leaned against the wall outside the palace gates, waiting for their victims. At noon Joshua was brought out along with two thieves who had also been sentenced to death, and the beams were placed upon their shoulders. Joshua was bleeding from a dozen places on his head and face, and although he still wore the purple robe that Herod had placed on him, I could see that blood from the flogging had run down and left streaks on his legs. He still looked like he was in some sort of trance, but there was no question that he was feeling the pain of his wounds. The crowd closed in on him, shouting insults and spitting on him, but I noticed that when he stumbled, someone always lifted him to his feet. His followers were still scattered among the crowd, they were just afraid to show themselves.

From time to time I looked around the periphery of the mob and caught the eye of one of the apostles. Always there was a tear there, and always a mix of anguish and anger. It took everything I had not to rush in among the soldiers, take one of their swords, and start hacking. Afraid of my own temper, I fell back from the crowd until I came alongside of Simon. “I can’t do it either,” I said. “I can’t watch them put him on the cross.”

“You have to,” the Zealot said.

“No, you be there, Simon. Let him see your face. Let him know you’re there. I’ll come up once the cross is set.” I had never been able to look at someone who was being crucified even when I didn’t know them. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach watching them do it to my best friend. I’d lose control, attack someone, and then we’d both be lost. Simon was a soldier, a secret soldier, but a soldier still. He could do it. The horrible scene at the temple of Kali ran through my head.

“Simon, tell him I said mindful breath. Tell him that there is no cold.”

“What cold?”

“He’ll know what it means. If he remembers he’ll be able to shut out the pain. He learned to do that in the East.”

“I’ll tell him.”

I wouldn’t be able to tell him myself, not without giving myself away.

I watched from the walls of the city as they led Joshua to the road that ran by the hill called Golgotha, a thousand yards outside the Gennath Gate. I turned away, but even from a thousand yards I could hear him screaming as they drove the nails.

Justus had assigned four soldiers to watch Joshua die. After a half hour they were alone except for perhaps a dozen onlookers and the families of the two thieves, who were praying and singing dirges at the feet of the condemned. Jakan and the other Pharisees had only stayed to see Joshua hoisted upright and the cross set, then they went off to feast with their families.

“A game,” I said, tossing a pair of dice in the air as I approached the soldiers. “Just a simple game.” I had borrowed a tunic and an expensive sash from Joseph of Arimathea. He’d also given me his purse, which I held up and jingled in front of the soldiers. “A game, Legionnaire?”

One of the Romans laughed. “And where would we get money to gamble with?”

“We’ll play for those clothes behind you. That purple robe at the foot of the cross.”

The Roman lifted the robe with a spear point, then looked up at Joshua, whose eyes went wide when he saw me. “Sure, it looks like we’ll be here a while. Let’s have a game.”