The Last Disciple (46 page)

Chayim needed to pretend nothing was amiss. “My head hurts from wine at lunch,” Chayim said, as if this explained his curtness.

“I hope it improves soon,” she said. “A dinner with Nero tonight! I so look forward to it. And to the entertainment. Who was it that will be publicly humiliated?”

“Vitas. A war hero. And his wife. Some Jewish woman.” Chayim now regretted telling Litas what Helius and Tigellinus had planned. She’d seemed to enjoy the prospect of it too much. And now, wondering if she was a spy for Helius, it made him uncomfortable to have such a heartless woman so close to him.

“Go ahead and return to the baths and wait for me,” Chayim said. He needed to be alone to think.

Litas gave him her wide smile. Before, he would have enjoyed the lasciviousness in it. Now he found it vaguely repulsive. He forced himself to smile at her, and she nodded and disappeared.

There was no one Chayim could speak to about what troubled him. This, too, was a new realization. Until now, he’d had no troubles. All of his friends were simply acquaintances who shared the lifestyle of parties until dawn, with long sleep to follow during the day.

As for his troubles, they were obvious.

Helius had commanded him to infiltrate the cult of the followers. He had even told him the time and place that such a group would gather next. Helius was not to be disobeyed, for Helius and Tigellinus were easily able to bend the will of Nero.

Yet Chayim had been commanded to engage in treason against Nero. At any time, Helius could deny that he’d given the order to Chayim and, quite simply, have Chayim publicly tried and condemned for that treason.

Chayim was well aware of how those who followed the Christos were killed. Whether he died because he joined the cult or because he refused to join the cult, dead was still dead. In short, this might be an unstoppable strategy on Helius’s part to eliminate Chayim.

Chayim had tried to remember if he’d somehow insulted Helius over the last months and came up with nothing. Had Helius made a suggestive overture to Chayim that he’d innocently rejected? It took less than that for the capricious Helius to choose enemies.

The alternative, one that Chayim hoped for, was that Helius and Tigellinus truly did want what they’d requested. The subversive letter that was rumored to be circulating among the followers. If so, it made sense that Helius knew a time and location for the next meeting of the cult.

But to get that letter Chayim needed to trust that Helius had no other motive and then act upon that trust, fully joining the cult at the risk to his life.

What if, for example, Chayim was publicly exposed by another source, a source unaware of the order given by Helius? Would Helius then protect Chayim against the rage of Nero?

It seemed to Chayim that he was doomed either way. He couldn’t refuse Helius, but indulging Helius presented great danger, even if Helius had no evil intentions for Chayim.

Unless there was a way to keep Helius happy and still ensure there was no possibility of being accused of being a follower . . .

“Chayim!” Litas’s voice came from a hot bath in the next room.

Helius wanted the letter that was circulating among the Christians. If Chayim could get that without placing himself in danger . . .

“Chayim!”

Chayim gave it more thought. If Helius was setting Chayim up to be caught among the Christians, Helius’s plan would only work if Helius knew when and where to find Chayim in the compromising situation. Therefore, if Chayim could find another group of Christians, he would at least be eliminating some of the risk as he tried to acquire the letter.

“Chayim! The water gets cold!”

But how to earn the trust of a Christian well enough to learn where and when they met? Their fear of persecution—well justified—made them secretive and wary of outsiders. Torture and bribery probably wouldn’t work, even if Chayim could find a Christian to approach. So how could Chayim convince a Christian to invite him to a meeting?

“Chayim!”

Litas’s insistent voice finally broke through his thoughts. Chayim frowned. She was a mere slave, not some centurion ordering him around as if he were a soldier.

With that silent aggravated thought still echoing in his mind, Chayim saw his solution in an inspired flash. One that would involve very little risk to himself. All of it unfolded quickly in his mind, proving again that he was much more his father’s son than either of them would have expected.

First, though, he would need to find a Christian and infiltrate the cult at a time and place of his own choosing, not one set up by Helius.

Perhaps among other slaves . . .

And, despite her arrogance, Litas was a slave. Who must certainly know the activities of other slaves . . .

“Litas,” he called as he sprang from his bed, “let’s talk. I want some information that only you might know.”

“This is the first thing you need to know about the written history of the Jews,” Darda said, as if he’d been prepared for the question. “It is the redemption plan of God, from the beginning of creation to the arrival of the Messiah He has promised us.”

“Redemption plan? What do we need to be redeemed from?”

“Whatever drives you away from God,” Darda countered.

“That’s an obscure answer. My sesterces are not meant to pay for obscure answers.”

“Someday, if you are blessed, the answer won’t be obscure.”

Damian scowled. “Speak less obscurely about this letter.”

Darda pointed a clay-encrusted fingertip at the scroll in Damian’s hands. “If one were to believe that the man named Jesus was the Messiah sent by God, then this letter is the culmination of all the writings of our prophets. But remember, that is only if you believe in the other letters about Jesus that are circulating.”

“Since I am unaware of those letters and will probably find little of interest in them, tell me about the man who wrote this letter.” Damian unrolled it to the beginning. He read again the introduction. “Yes, tell me about this John who calls himself God’s servant and wants us to believe an angel brought him to a great revelation and then writes of such horrifying events.”

“John? While he has chosen to place his faith in Jesus as the long-expected Messiah, he is obviously an educated Jew. And, for what it is worth, he is one of the original twelve disciples who followed Jesus.”

“You sound hesitant about calling him intelligent.” This was how Damian worked. Filtering the perceptions that other people had about his prey.

Darda shrugged. “It’s a contradiction to me. An intelligent man. Yet one who places his faith in the prophecies of Jesus.”

Darda scratched his ear, inspected whatever he’d found on his fingertip, and continued. “Educated? Nearly two-thirds of his writings in this letter allude to the writings of our ancient prophets. Ezekiel. Daniel. Isaiah. That shows his education. And because of all his allusions to previous writings, the symbolism will make sense only to one familiar with the Jewish prophecies.”

“So I have no chance of understanding it without those reference points.”

“Definitely not. You would end up speculating and coming up with ridiculous conjectures.”

“What about the other third of this letter? That doesn’t borrow from previous writings.”

“Where John doesn’t use symbolism that we should understand from our ancient prophets, he explains clearly.”

“Give me an example.”

Darda closed his eyes and recited from memory. “‘For the time has come for the wedding feast of the Lamb, and his bride has prepared herself. She is permitted to wear the finest white linen. (Fine linen represents the good deeds done by the people of God.)’ See? He tells us exactly what he means by
fine linen
.”

“Lamb?” Damian made a face, because that was the one image that had caught his attention. “Lamb? Sheep are stupid beasts. Smelly and need constant attention.”

“You are thinking like a Roman. Not a Jew. You want to interpret the symbols in a literal sense. But symbols are so much richer than mere words. They show us things that are invisible.”

“I can see a lamb. And you are saying it is more than a lamb?”

“Every Jew understands on an intellectual level the significance of the Lamb, but more importantly, the symbol speaks on a profound level to our souls. We’ve all seen a lamb sacrificed for our sins, seen the terror in its eyes, watched the knife cut its throat, seen the blood spill across the whiteness of its struggling body, heard the bleating fade as it died.”

Damian felt frustrated. There was so little he knew about this. Perhaps it would just be easier to give John over to Helius and move on to the pursuit of another slave. But there was the fact that Helius was willing to pay so much for John. And a more macabre yet fascinating mystery existed. Damian knew that two previous slave hunters had tried and failed to find John, and had died unexpected violent deaths in the slums afterward. What was hidden here?

“You mentioned Isaiah,” Damian said, “Ezekiel. Daniel.”

“These prophets of our people, all of whom encouraged us that God would send a Messiah.”

“Prophets,” Damian echoed. “Making predictions about the future?”

“Yes,” Darda answered, as if speaking to a simpleton. “A true prophet makes no prophecy that is false or unfulfilled.”

“Then this John must be a false prophet,” Damian said. “He speaks of things that haven’t happened.”

Darda sighed. “That is the danger of a non-Jew imposing his own view upon our writings. Prophecies can refer to the fore future, the far future, and the final future. All the Hebrew prophets moved in and out of those time categories, and John does the same. But to understand them, you need to read them in context, and to do that, you need a thorough knowledge of all our Scriptures.”

“Tell me this, then. You said some believe the Messiah did come as promised.”

“Yes, there are radicals among our people who argue that since Jesus was the promised Messiah, God’s covenant with us is fulfilled.”

“Radicals?”

“I don’t dispute the witnesses and their stories about Jesus. In a Jewish court of law, much of what they testify would be considered acceptable. He was a miracle worker, and I might not dispute that. But . . .”

“But what?”

“Let me back up. In a time-honored tradition of all our prophets, Jesus, like John, used language that all Jews would understand came from previous prophets. He doesn’t steal from them, but alludes to them and makes them even more significant. But Jesus’ words must be interpreted in light of the previous prophets, and unless you are familiar with all their writings, His prophecies make little sense.”

“You are saying that to a Roman like me, unfamiliar with Jewish writings, John’s letter is an elaborate code?”

“Sea,” Darda said abruptly. “Waters of the sea. What does that mean to you?”

“A place for ships to sail.”

Darda snorted. “There’s my proof. The sea to a Jew, understood in a symbolic sense, means chaos and confusion. In this letter of Revelation, when the Beast rises from the sea, it says much more to a Jewish reader than to you.”

“Jesus, then, uses this rich symbolism?”

Darda nodded.

“And His prophecies? Do they show Him to be a false prophet or a true prophet?”

“In His final days He made one prophecy that completely destroys His credibility. He promised that the temple in Jerusalem would be destroyed in this generation. As that is plainly impossible, Jesus was obviously not divine. He—”

“Enough,” Damian said. Darda was getting too passionate in his hate for Jesus. Damian wanted to focus on John, the author of the letter, the man feared by Helius. “You said John was obviously educated. Can you make any other guesses about him?”

“John verges on genius. I’ve read and reread this. The writing is powerful and layered, so complete that I would almost believe that it came to him in a divinely inspired vision. Except then I would have to agree with him that Jesus was the Messiah.”

Another shrug from the old man. “And the temple still stands and cannot fall. One false prophecy shows the prophet is not a prophet from God, for God is not fallible.”

“Why is the temple in Jerusalem so important?” Damian asked.

Darda nearly sputtered. “Without the temple, we cannot approach God with sacrifices. And without God, we as Jews are totally desolate. If the temple ever fell, how else could we seek redemption?”

Redemption.
That bothersome word again. Yet Damian doubted Helius feared this John and his vision because of religious matters and the notoriously famous and invisible God of the Jews.

Damian unscrolled the letter to a portion that had interested him during his first quick reading. He studied it more slowly. The sounds of the market faded away.

Darda was patient.

“It seems that this is a grand story,” Damian finally said. “There is a hero in here and an antihero.”

“The Lamb against the Beast,” Darda said. “I’m impressed. That is the heart of the vision, is it not?”

“You are asking me?” Damian said. He was enjoying this. The pursuit of knowledge.

“I am. You’ve read the vision. Who is the Lamb?”