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

“Yeah, more,” said Abel. “What color is that?”

“That’s brown.”

“How about that one?”

“That would be brown as well.”

“That color over there? Right there?”

“Brown.”

“You’re sure that’s not mauve.”

“Nope, brown.”

“And—”

“Brown,” I said.

The two former blind guys shrugged and walked off mumbling to each other.

“Excellent healing,” said Nathaniel.

“I for one have never seen a better healing,” said Philip, “but then, I’m new.”

Joshua rode off shaking his head.

When we came into Cana we were broke and hungry and more than ready for a feast, at least most of us were. Joshua didn’t know about the feast. The wedding was being held in the courtyard of a very large house. We could hear the drums and singers and smell spiced meat cooking as we approached the gates. It was a large wedding and a couple of kids were waiting outside to tend to our camels. They were curly haired, wiry little guys about ten years old; they reminded me of evil versions of Josh and me at that age.

“Sounds like a wedding going on,” Joshua said.

“Park your camel, sir?” said the camel-parking kid.

“It is a wedding,” said Bart. “I thought we were here to help Maggie.”

“Park your camel, sir?” said the other kid, pulling on the reins of my camel.

Joshua looked at me. “Where is Maggie? You said she was sick?”

“She’s in the wedding,” I said, pulling the reins back from the kid.

“You said she was dying.”

“Well, we all are, aren’t we? I mean, if you think about it.” I grinned.

“You can’t park that camel here, sir.”

“Look, kid, I don’t have any money to tip you. Go away.” I hate handing my camel over to the camel-parking kids. It unnerves me. I’m always sure that I’m never going to see it again, or it’s going to come back with a tooth missing or an eye poked out.

“So Maggie isn’t really dying?”

“Hey, guys,” Maggie said, stepping out of the gate.

“Maggie,” Joshua said, throwing his arms up in surprise. Problem was, he was so intent on looking at her that he forgot to grab on again, and off the camel he went. He hit the ground facedown with a thump and a wheeze. I jumped down from my camel, Bart’s dogs barked, Maggie ran to Josh, rolled him over, and cradled his head in her lap while he tried to get his breath back. Philip and Nathaniel waved to people from the wedding who were peeping through the gate to see what all the commotion was about. Before I had a chance to turn, the two kids had leapt up onto our camels and were galloping around the corner off to Nod, or South Dakota, or some other place I didn’t know the location of.

“Maggie,” Joshua said. “You’re not sick.”

“That depends,” she said, “if there’s any chance of a laying on of hands.”

Joshua smiled and blushed. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” Maggie said. She kissed Joshua on the lips and held him there until I started to squirm and the other disciples started to clear their throats and bark “get a room” under their breaths.

Maggie stood up and helped Joshua to his feet. “Come on in, guys,” she said. “No dogs,” she said to Bart, and the hulking Cynic shrugged and sat down in the street amid his canine disciples.

I was craning my neck to see if I could see where our camels had been taken. “They’re going to run those camels into the ground, and I know they won’t feed or water them.”

“Who?” asked Maggie.

“Those camel-parking boys.”

“Biff, this is my youngest brother’s wedding. He couldn’t even afford wine. He didn’t hire any camel-parking boys.”

Bartholomew stood and rallied his troops. “I’ll find them.” He lumbered off.

Inside we feasted on beef and mutton, all manner of fruits and vegetables, bean and nut pastes, cheese and first-pressed olive oil with bread. There was singing and dancing and if it hadn’t been for a few old guys in the corner looking very cranky, you’d never have known that there wasn’t any wine at the party. When our people danced, they danced in large groups, lines and circles, not couples. There were men’s dances and women’s dances and very few dances where both could participate, which is why people were staring at Joshua and Maggie as they danced. They were definitely dancing together.

I retreated to a corner where I saw Maggie’s sister Martha watching as she nibbled at some bread with goat cheese. She was twenty-five, a shorter, sturdier version of Maggie, with the same auburn hair and blue eyes, but with less tendency to laugh. Her husband had divorced her for “grievous skankage” and now she lived with her older brother Simon in Bethany. I’d gotten to know her when we were little and she took messages to Maggie for me. She offered me a bite of her bread and cheese and I took it.

“She’s going to get herself stoned,” Martha said in a slightly bitter, moderately jealous, younger sister tone. “Jakan is a member of the Sanhedrin.”

“Is he still a bully?”

“Worse, now he’s a bully with power. He’d have her stoned, just to prove that he could do it.”

“For dancing? Not even the Pharisees—”

“If anyone saw her kiss Joshua, then…”

“So how are you?” I said, changing the subject.

“I’m living with my brother Simon now.”

“I heard.”

“He’s a leper.”

“Look, there’s Joshua’s mother. I have to go say hello.”

“There’s no wine at this wedding,” Mary said.

“I know. Strange, isn’t it?”

James stood by scowling as I hugged his mother.

“Joshua is here too?”

“Yes.”

“Oh good, I was afraid that you two might have been arrested along with John.”

“Pardon me?” I stepped back and looked to James for explanation. He seemed the more appropriate bearer of bad news.

“You hadn’t heard? Herod has thrown John in prison for inciting people to revolt. That’s the excuse anyway. It’s Herod’s wife who wanted John silenced. She was tired of having John’s followers refer to her as ‘the slut.’”

I patted Mary’s shoulder as I stepped away. “I’ll tell Joshua that you’re here.”

I found Joshua sitting in a far corner of the courtyard playing with some children. One little girl had brought her pet rabbit to the wedding and Joshua was holding it in his lap, petting its ears.

“Biff, come feel how soft this bunny is.”

“Joshua, John has been arrested.”

Josh slowly handed the bunny back to the little girl and stood. “When?”

“I’m not sure. Shortly after we left, I guess.”

“I shouldn’t have left him. I didn’t even tell him we were leaving.”

“It was bound to happen, Joshua. I told him to lay off Herod, but he wouldn’t listen. You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I’m the Son of God, I could have done something.”

“Yeah, you could have gone to prison with him. Your mother is here. Go talk to her. She’s the one that told me.”

As Joshua embraced Mary, she said, “You’ve got to do something about this wine situation. Where’s the wine?”

James tapped Joshua on the shoulder. “Didn’t bring any wine with you from the lush vineyards of Jericho?” (I didn’t like hearing sarcasm being used by James against Joshua. I had always thought of my invention as being used for good, or at least against people I didn’t like.)

Joshua gently pushed his mother away. “You shall have wine,” he said, then he went off to the side of the house where drinking water was stored in large stone jars. In a few minutes he returned with a pitcher of wine and cups for all of us. A shout went through the party and suddenly everything seemed to step up a level. Pitchers and cups were filled and drained and filled again, and those who had been near the wine jars started declaring a miracle had been performed, that Joshua of Nazareth had turned water into wine. I looked for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Having been free of sin all of his life, Joshua wasn’t very good at dealing with guilt, so he had gone off by himself to try to numb the guilt he felt over John’s arrest.