Centurion: Mark's Gospel as a Thriller (22 page)

This is the first time Henrik and I have been face-to-face since I nearly killed him. I should fear this man who stands nearly two feet taller than I do—but I don't.

I can't.

I'm convinced Henrik had something to do with my parents' abduction into the camps, and for that I'll hate the man until I see life snuffed from his eyes. Even then I'll pray for the torment of his soul.

But for now, in this moment, Henrik is of vital importance to my cause, which means I have no choice but to tolerate him. I would partner with the Evil One himself if it meant killing King Charles.

Under the darkness it's difficult to get a good read on Henrik's face, but I see enough to realize it's still severely bruised and swollen. "Hello, Henrik," I say casually, a little grin running off my face.

Henrik grunts and tells Jude, "You'd better get your man under control."

"Yes, Deacon. I believe you have something you wanted to say to Henrik. Isn't that right?"

"No," I say. "Don't believe I do."

"Deacon," Jude says sternly, "apologize to Henrik. Now."

"The only thing I'm sorry for is not killing you when I had the chance."

Henrik takes a step closer to me. "I wonder if you'll change your tune when I'm the only one standing between you and the wrath of King Charles's army," he says.

"What are you talking about?"

Henrik laughs darkly. "Jude hasn't explained it to you yet?"

"Explained what?"

Jude steps in. "Both of you need to take a breath."

"Explain what, Jude?" I say.

Jude clears his throat. "I won't be with you when you meet King Charles."

"Why not?"

"Because," Henrik says, "he'll be in the hills with the army."

"I thought one of your men was going to lead the charge into the city."

"That was the plan," Jude says timidly, "but the men are growing restless. They've been under the leadership of Henrik's men for some time, and Henrik thinks morale will be boosted if I go to them
before
the charge."

"A few weeks ago, those men were ready to storm the gates of hell," I say. "When I left they would have followed me off a cliff. What happened?"

"Yes," Jude says, "and when they see you take off King Charles's head, they'll be reignited with that same passion. But Henrik is right. I should go to them and lead the charge myself."

I don't like this. The plan is already risky enough. If I'm going to kill King Charles in broad daylight, with an army of centurions surrounding the city, I want at least one fellow rebel by my side. I don't want to do this alone.

"Our odds of survival were slim enough with three of us on the palace landing," I say. "How do you envision the two of us surviving until our army breaches the city? Once I kill the king, what's going to stop the other centurions from killing me?"

"You have to remember," Jude says, "at the ceremony, King Charles will be accompanied by only two body guards, one of which is Henrik. You kill the king. Henrik takes out the other centurion, and then all hell breaks loose in the city. By the time the commanders of the Centurion Guard realize what's happening, our army will be charging into the city, laying waste to everything in our path." Jude issues a nervous breath. "On its face the plan sounds crazy, but in actuality it's not that risky. The Gratitude Ceremony is the only time when King Charles is so ill protected, so exposed."

Henrik adds, "Tradition dictates the king display true humility when thanking the families."

"And surrounding oneself with centurions who executed their family isn't exactly the best way to do that?"

"Bingo," Jude says.

I look at Henrik, and everything about him feels wrong. "So," I say, "I'm supposed to trust you with my life?"

"No," he says. "You're supposed to kill the king and trust it'll be enough to galvanize your army to lead a successful insurrection."

"And you've been paid...with my money?"

"All our debts have been paid," Jude answers for Henrik.

"Is that all this is about for you, Henrik? Money?"

Henrik ignores me and says to Jude, "We're working with the religious authorities, so I'll have to confirm, but we'll most likely take the Teacher on Thursday. Be ready."

"We will," Jude says.

With that the man I've wanted to kill for years disappears into a hot and dishonest night.

I once thought there was no worse fate than to grieve for my parents alone. But I was wrong. It's infinitely worse to partner with the man who dug their graves. To avenge my parents' deaths, it turns out, means I must betray them first.

roam the city all night in search of Maria.

I don't find her.

At daybreak I return to the temple and find the Teacher hard at work, as he always is. I locate Petra and the others and take my place among them. The Teacher once again has aimed his criticism not at the Kingdom but at our own religious authorities—an action that increasingly grates on my nerves. I can't understand why he spends so much time arguing with
them
instead of aiming his wrath at the true enemy—the Kingdom.

"Beware of the scribes," he says, "who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the temple and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows' houses and, for the sake of appearance, say long prayers. They'll receive the greater condemnation."

As the Teacher speaks, Southerners approach the temple in droves to deposit their taxes into the Kingdom treasury, which has been strategically placed at the temple, since all Southerners will visit the temple during the Great Festival. It's just one example of how the Kingdom desecrates our religion.

A poor widow appears in the midst of those paying taxes and deposits two small copper coins, which are worth practically nothing. Seeing this the Teacher calls our attention to her and says, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. They have contributed out of their abundance, but she, out of her poverty, has put in everything she had, all she had to live on."

That does it. I can't stand it anymore and am shouting before I realize what I'm saying. "And this is a good thing?" I call out to the Teacher. "That a poor widow gives away her last pennies? Did I hear you right?"

Jude elbows me in the rib cage. "What are you doing? Shut your mouth!"

"I'm sorry," I say, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I can't listen to this any longer! Here we are, in the Holy City, with the Kingdom breathing down our backs, stealing our money, and all you do is talk about our own religion!
What about them?
What about the murderous centurions who rob our very way of life? What have you to say to them, oh, wise Teacher?"

The Teacher moves toward me, the people parting like the Red Sea before him. Pointing at the skyline of the Holy City, he says, "Do you see these great buildings, Deacon? Do you see these magnificent buildings?"

I'm red hot with anger. "Yes," I say. "I see them."

"Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down."

"When? Tell me...when will this happen?"

"When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, don't be alarmed. This must take place, but the end is still to come, for nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom. There will be earthquakes and famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs."

"You know what I think?" My voice cracks under the strain of anger. "I think you're afraid to do what must be done."

"Deacon," Jude says, taking my arm firmly in his hands, "you need to watch your mouth."

After a long moment, the Teacher says the following words as carefully and sincerely as I've heard him say anything during my time with him. "But the good news must first be proclaimed to the nations, Deacon."

"How can there be good news while we groan under the tyranny of the Kingdom?" My anger breaks as I say these words and is displaced with sorrow; grief floods my soul. "Please, Teacher, I need to know. I...must...understand the way."

The Teacher cups my face in his hands, and I let him do it. His hands are sweaty and calloused, but the way he holds me—it makes me feel as safe as a child with his father.

Safety
—an emotion I haven't felt since my parents were taken.

The Teacher holds my head perfectly still for several long moments and looks with care into my eyes. Then, staring only at me, says, "You will be hated
by all...because of my name. But the one who endures to the end will be saved. Will you endure for me, Deacon? Will you?"

I try to answer him, but I can't, because I'm once again weeping with the Teacher.

t's the eve before the Great Festival, and I've abandoned everyone. I've spent the past few days on my own, searching for Maria.

Because...I can't go through with it.

I can't betray the Teacher. To be honest, I don't think I can explain my decision. My head is the foggiest it's ever been. I am ages beyond the clear-headed vision of my train ride home when I knew precisely who I was and what I was going to do.

Revenge. That's all I've lived for, and all I've wanted. Kill those who took my parents, and keep killing until they killed me. That was my plan, plain and simple. Take as many of them to the grave as humanly possible. Then die the death of a warrior. Die gloriously on the battlefield and join my parents in the afterlife.

But the Teacher has done something to me. My soul has been stirred so deeply that I believe it has awakened, perhaps for the first time in my life. But that's not really true. Maria woke up my soul first, but...this is different. It has me thinking confused and troubling thoughts, which isn't good, because I need to be focused or it'll all fall apart. Maybe it already has.

So I vanished. I said nothing to Miles and Petra. Then I abandoned Jude, who's probably having a nervous breakdown right now.

I don't care; I had to do it. Nothing matters to me anymore except finding Maria. All I want is to find her and escape this city. To hell with the rebellion.

I've scoured every nook of the Holy City and found no trace of her, not the faintest hint of her lavender perfume. I've been to every temple, hotel, café, and bar. I've hounded strangers on the street. Last night I was nearly arrested by the Centurion Guard for public belligerence.