Centurion: Mark's Gospel as a Thriller (18 page)

The Teacher nods.

"Good," I say.

"No," he says bitterly. "It's not good." His face is stressed in a way I haven't seen it before. Dark lines run across his forehead, and vertical grooves cut down the sides of his cheeks. Suddenly the Teacher looks much older than before, as if this outburst of fame has aged him in unnatural and hurried ways. He draws a heavy breath then stares up to the heavens.

And then he's crying, hard and deep sobs of despair, the sort of tears I shed for my parents. Before I can help it, I'm crying too; both of us are crumbling like distraught children.

That's all that's said this night. There's nothing else but the sound of two men weeping over the intolerable cruelty of the grave.

weep hard for my parents until I fall asleep on the bank of the river. Then I dream of Maria.

Even though I haven't physically laid eyes on her since she left with Legion, she's come to me every night in my dreams. She laughs, her black eyes sparkling like onyx. She throws back her long hair and sings to me. I chase her through a field of wildflowers, and we fall softly to the earth, our arms and legs tangling around each other's bodies.

We kiss. We kiss some more. Then we get older. I see a baby at her breast, then another. Both children have my blue eyes—the eyes of my mother. I finish school in Mexico and become a doctor for our small community. It's a good life, a peaceful life. I tend to the aches of the body; I meet the needs of the people. Our children grow up bright and lovely under a forever golden sky. They adore their mother and think I'm the strongest man in the world—which, had I not abandoned my people, I might have been.

But then the beast comes. Like a dragon with iron teeth, it rips our family apart, forcing me away to fight a war I care nothing about. My children wail, falling to the ground in tears. Maria screams and beats on the chests of the centurions who've come to take me away.

I'm thrown on a train and taken north.

And then I wake up.

Jude stands where the Teacher was sleeping. "You must go to the Office of Record today," he says. "It can't be put off any longer. You've already missed one Monday meeting. Miss another and a warrant will be issued for your arrest."

I rub my eyes and sit up awkwardly, my joints stiff from another night on the hard earth. The sun is just beginning its climb into the sky, but the air is already heavy with heat. "We need my money before going to the Holy City?"

"It's the price demanded by Henrik. The Nordic wants to be paid first."

"I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"You did enough damage. The men sent word that he still can't chew solid food. We're lucky he hasn't changed his mind. You should thank the gods he's still willing to help our cause."

"I have difficulty trusting a man I have to bribe." I stand up and stretch my arms and legs. "And you mean, 'thank the one true God,' don't you?"

Jude rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Take the Ducati and go. You can make it to Oxford and return here by nightfall. The Teacher already has said we won't move from this place today. The crowds gathering are already massive. He'll teach, and then we'll rest one more night before we begin our journey. This is it, Deacon. It's happening. Everything we hoped for is about to take place. The revolution has begun."

I don't like Jude. I know my father did, but I don't. Something about him bothers me. I've tried to shake the feeling, telling myself it's paranoia, but it won't go away. I'm grateful for him, for his planning and his organization, but I don't like him. Even so, I need him. And necessity, like friendship, can be that simple.

"I'll go," I say, "but I've been thinking about the Teacher."

Jude laughs. "You and the rest of the South. What can I say? He's the most famous man in a generation. The religious authorities are right to want him silenced. Who knows what he'll say next?"

"I...think...I don't know. Maybe he can be useful to our movement."

"Give me a break." Jude spits and rolls his eyes again. "Am I going to have to listen to you sing his praises too?"

"It's just that he helps so many. And he does have power. You can't deny it. Your eyes have seen the same things I've seen. He's a doer of mighty deeds, Jude."

Jude wants to dismiss with me. He wants nothing more than to tell me to shut up and forget about this nonsense. But something in my voice tells him that would be a mistake.

He exhales then says, "Listen, Deacon. The Teacher is special. Only an idiot would deny it. But that doesn't mean he's who the people say he is." He takes a furtive look around and lowers his voice. "He's
not
the messiah.
You
are.
The messiah must lead an army. You have an army. The messiah must shed the blood of his enemies. You've already proven yourself capable of that. The messiah must have resources—you
do?"
Jude takes a shallow breath. "The Teacher is a good, good man. No one doubts that. He cares for every soul he meets. And yes, he works miracles, but he's only a
teacher.
For the sake of all the gods! He's a spirit person; his place is out here teaching people to love God. But our place—the men who'll restore our nation—is in the Holy City, with blood on our hands. It takes a special kind of man to do such a thing, and that isn't the Teacher. It's you."

"But he speaks of ushering in the kingdom of God, Jude. He says that the time is fulfilled, that the time has finally come. He proclaims the ages ending! Don't you see? There's so much about him that fits the prophecies of our ancestors."

Jude picks up a smooth stone from the ground and rolls it around in his hands. "Five thousand men depend on you. Five thousand men are marching toward the Holy City, prepared to fight and die in your name. This is the first chance our people have had at freedom in years. Abandon them now, and that chance surely will be lost—this time for who knows how long. Are you prepared to risk that? I mean, for what—a few miracles in the wilderness? Come on!"

"Miles told me about the Teacher's birth. Have you heard?"

Jude throws the stone across the water. It skips three times before disappearing beneath the surface, sinking to the muddy bottom where it'll stay for a hundred years. "I've heard the rumors about the virgin, if that's what you mean. I doubt it's true."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"Enlighten me then." Jude looks up to the sun. "But we don't have all morning. You need to get moving."

"Wise men from the Far East came to witness his birth because they'd read about the promise of a messiah in the Scripture. The Southern governor heard about their journey and tried to find out where the Teacher was born. But the wise men wouldn't tell him where the exact birthplace was—only the town. They had to give him something to avoid being killed. Infuriated, the governor
sent orders for all the children under the age of two in that town to be killed.
Children,
Jude. Babies were massacred that night. Hundreds of them."

"Have you lost your mind? All Southern children are told that story. There was an outbreak in the town, a terrible infection that had to be eradicated. There was no other choice."

"I knew that story was a lie, knew it the first time my mother told it to me."

"It's not a lie!"

"It is. That governor knew then what the people know now!"

"Which is?"

"The messiah has come."

"Now that, Deacon, is true!" Jude takes my face in his hands, and I'm too overcome with emotion to shake him off. "The messiah has come. I'm looking right at him."

I take the deepest breath of my life and say, "I pray to God you're right."

I reach the Office of Record by noon. I park the Ducati and march into the lobby, where I demand to see Dr. Stone. During my journey here, I've replayed Jude's words a thousand times in my head. If it is true that I'm the one who will free the people, it's time I started acting like it. And if I'm God's anointed one, I have nothing to fear—especially not from some crazy psychologist.

Upon my arrival, I'm escorted immediately to Dr. Stone's office. She's writing in cursive at her desk when I enter. I sit in the same chair as before, this time without being invited. The good doctor doesn't look up until I prop my boots on her desk and kick a few heavy books to the floor.

"Oops," I say.

"Well," she says coolly, "look what we have here."

"I need to authorize a man named Jude Iscariot to withdraw funds from my account at the Oxford Trust. Will that be a problem?"

Dr. Stone slides her glasses off her nose, folds them in her hands, and says, "Not at all." She smiles. "I can have it done before the day's end. Anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?"

I pull my feet from her desk and sit up straight in the chair, trying not to look absolutely shocked by her answer. "That...should do it, thanks."

Dr. Stone swings her chair around to a filing cabinet and withdraws an official-looking form. "I'll need your signature, of course." She places the paper on her desk and points to the bottom line. She offers me her pen.

I stand and take the pen in my hand. She watches carefully as I sign my name. "Is that it?"

"Not quite," she says slowly. "There's another matter we ought to discuss."

I swallow hard, my mind flashing back to Dr. Stone's hands wrapped tightly around my neck. "What?"

Her mouth twitches before she says, "I gave you explicit instructions."

"And here I am, reporting for duty, ma'am." I give her a two-fingered salute.

"One." She points her index finger at me. "You attacked two Kingdom guardsmen, giving one of the men a concussion that landed him in hospital. Two." Another finger jumps out at me. "You resisted arrest and took leave underground with a woman known for associating with demoniacs and other bandits. Three..." The ring finger comes out. "You missed your required meeting last Monday. Four..." The pinkie. "You've been seen cavorting with this Southern teacher who openly speaks of a coming kingdom, committing treason everywhere he goes. And five..." Her thumb rounds out my offenses. "You sit here in
my
office and treat me like some kind of hired servant who does your bidding. Did I miss anything?"

My throat clenches. I knew Dr. Stone would know about the incident at the bank. And it's conceivable the guards could have described Maria with some accuracy. But how she knows everything else is beyond me.

Then it hits me.

If she knows about Maria, then she's been in danger ever since I left her here in Oxford. That's when the roof comes down.
They already have her.
A cold sweat breaks across my body.

"What's wrong, Deacon? Lost for words?"

My body trembles. "Have you hurt her?"

"Why don't you have a seat so we can get a few things straight?" Her mouth twitches again. "I've missed you, Deacon Larsen."

I fall into the chair with a thud, my mind and body numbed by the thought that the Kingdom has taken Maria prisoner. Surely Legion would have put up a fight. He may hate me, but he'd die for Maria. He wouldn't go down easily.

Dr. Stone says, "You won't see me after today."

"Why not?" I ask slowly.

"Aren't you planning to travel to the Holy City for the Great Festival, as your people call it?"

"I'm sorry," I say, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands. "How do you know all this? And please tell me what you've done to Maria. You don't understand—I love her."

Dr. Stone issues a hallow laugh that drips in cruelty.
"You love her?"
she says spitefully.

"With all my heart."

"Maria Magdalena isn't the kind of woman a man loves, Deacon. Well, not for longer than a night." She laughs at her joke and adds, "But I'm sure you know all about that. At least I pray someone's told you about her sullied reputation."

"You wouldn't talk like that if you knew what was good for you."

Dr. Stone rises from her desk like a geyser bursting. "And you wouldn't treat me like a dog if you knew what was good for you!"

I jump out of my seat. "You're not the only one in this office with power, lady. And you're testing my patience. Now tell me what you've done with Maria—I won't ask again."