The Last Temptation of Christ (42 page)

The innkeeper had been listening to them and sniggering behind his drooping mustache. He caught Judas’s eye. “Bah, just look at them! And they want to save the world!”

But his nostrils caught a smell from the oven. “The head is burning!” he shouted, and with one bound he was in the yard.

The bewildered companions looked at each other.

“So, that’s why the Baptist froze when he saw him,” said Peter, tapping his forehead.

Once they got started, their minds swelled and swelled.

“And did you all see the dove over his head while he was being baptized?”

“It wasn’t a dove, it was a flash of lightning.”

“No, no—a dove. It was cooing.”

“It wasn’t cooing; it was talking. I heard it with my own ears say: ‘Saint! Saint! Saint!’ ”

“It was the Holy Spirit!” said Peter, his eyes filling with wings of gold. “The Holy Spirit came down from heaven and we all turned to stone, don’t you remember! I wanted to take a stop and go closer, but my foot was numb—how could I move! I wanted to scream, but my lips would not part. The winds stood still; reeds, river, men, birds—every single thing turned to marble from fear. The Baptist’s hand was the only moving thing: slowly, slowly, it baptized.”

“I didn’t see anything and I didn’t hear anything,” said Judas, incensed. “Your eyes and ears were drunk.”

“You didn’t see, redbeard, because you didn’t want to see,” Peter rebuked him.

“And your lordship, straw-beard, saw because you wanted to see. You had an appetite to see the Holy Spirit, so it was the Holy Spirit you saw. And what’s more, now you make these numbskulls see it too. You’ll have to answer for the consequences.”

Jacob, so far, had been chewing his fingernails and listening, without speaking. Now, however, he could contain himself no longer. “Wait a minute, lads,” he said, “don’t explode like gunpowder. Come, let’s discuss this thing sensibly. Do you really think the Baptist said those words before they cut off his head? It seems very unlikely to me. First of all, which one of us was there to hear him? And then there’s this also: even if he said the words to himself, he would never have voiced them—because he’d have known the king would hear about it, would send spies to find out who this man was, this Jesus in the desert, would catch him and cut off his head as well. As my father says, two and two make four. So, let’s not allow our heads to get too swelled.”

But Peter became angry. “Two and two make fourteen, that’s my opinion, and damn it! let logic and our brains say what they will. Give us something to drink, Andrew. We’ll drown our minds in order to clear our sight!”

A tall, ungainly man with shrunken cheeks, barefooted, wearing a white sheet wrapped about him and a string of amulets around his neck, rushed into the tavern and put his palm to his breast in the sign of greeting.

“Farewell, brothers. I’m leaving, going to God. Do you have any commissions to place with me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he departed at a run and entered the next house.

At this moment the innkeeper appeared with the platter, and a delicious aroma invaded the room. His eye fell on the gangling lunatic.

“Have a good trip,” he called to him. “Send our kindest regards! ... There’s another one for you!” He laughed. “Bah, it’s true the end of the world has already come: the place is full of maniacs. This one says he saw God two nights ago when he went out to take a piss. From that moment on, how could he deign to live! He even refuses to eat. ‘I’ve been invited to heaven,’ he says. ‘I’ll eat there.’ Well, he’s dressed himself in his shroud and is going a quick round of all the doors. He accepts commissions, says goodbye, and leaves. You see what happens when you get too close to God! Take care, lads—I say it for your own good—don’t go too near him. I worship his grace, but from a distance. Keep clear!”

He placed the platter with the lamb’s head in the middle of the table. His lips, eyes and ears were laughing.

“Fresh head!” he called. “John the Baptist! Eat hearty!”

John felt nauseous and drew back. Andrew, who had put out his hand, held it in the air. The head, posed on the tray, looked at them one by one, dimly, with its wide-open motionless eyes.

“Simon, you scoundrel,” exclaimed Peter, “you’ll disgust us and we won’t be able to touch it! How can I pick out the eyes now? I’d love them as an appetizer, but it’ll be just like eating the eyes of the Baptist.”

The innkeeper burst into laughter. “Don’t worry, dear Peter,” he said, “I’ll eat them myself—but not before the dainty tongue, bless it! which shouted: ‘Repent! Repent! The end of the world has come!’ Unfortunately, his own end came first, poor thing.”

He took out a knife, sliced away the tongue and downed it in one gulp. Then he bolted a full glass of wine, and sat admiring his two barrels.

“All right, forget it, lads. I feel sorry for you. I’ll change the subject so that the Baptist’s head will go out of your minds and you’ll be able to eat the lamb’s. ... Well, then, can you imagine who painted that gem of a cock and a pig that you admire there on the barrels? Your gracious host, with his own hands, if you please. And can you guess why a cock and a pig? How could you, you idiotic Galileans! I must therefore disentangle the mystery for you and enlighten your infinitesimal brains!”

Peter looked at the head and licked his chops, but still did not dare put out his hand to remove the eyes and eat them. The Baptist was continually in his mind. The prophet’s eyes had gaped in the same way when they regarded mankind.

“So, listen,” continued the innkeeper, “and enlighten, as I say, your infinitesimal brains. ... When God finished the world (why did the blessed fellow go to all that trouble anyway?) and washed the mud off his hands, he called all the newborn creatures and proudly asked them, ‘Say, birds and beasts, how do you like the world I built? Do you find anything wrong with it?’ They all straightway began to bleat, bray, moo, meow, and twitter: ‘Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!’

“ ‘Bless you,’ said God. ‘By my faith, I don’t find a single defect either. My hands deserve congratulations.’ But he glimpsed the cock and the pig, who, heads bowed, were not breathing a word. ‘Halloo, pig!’ shouted God, ‘and you, Your Excellency the cock, why don’t you speak? Maybe the world I created doesn’t please you? Perhaps something is missing?’ But they still did not say a word. The devil, you can be sure, had hissed instructions into their ears: ‘Tell him that something is indeed missing—a low-growing plant which makes grapes that you crush, put in barrels and turn into wine.’

“ ‘Look here, beasts, why don’t you speak?’ God shouted again, raising his gigantic hand. And then at last the two of them (the devil gave them courage) lifted their heads. ‘Master craftsman, what can we say to you? Congratulations to your hands; your world is fine—touch wood! But it lacks one low-growing plant which makes grapes which you crush, put in barrels and turn into wine.’

“ ‘Ah, so that’s it! Now I’ll show you, you scoundrels,’ said God in a fit of temper. ‘It’s wine you want from me, is it, and drunkenness and brawls and vomiting? Let the vine be born!’ He rolled up his sleeves, took some mud, fashioned a vine plant, planted it. ‘Whoever overdrinks,’ he said, ‘hear my curse: may he have the mind of a cock and the snout of a pig!’ ”

The companions burst out laughing, forgot the Baptist and buried their faces in the roast head. Judas was first and foremost. He split the skull in two and filled his hands with lamb brains. When the innkeeper saw the pillage he became frightened. They won’t even leave me a bone, he thought.

“Say, lads,” he shouted, “it’s fine for you to eat and drink, but don’t forget the late John the Baptist. Ah, his poor head!’ ”

They all froze with their portions in their hands; and Peter, who had chewed the eye and was getting ready to swallow it, choked. It would be disgusting to swallow it, but such a pity to, spit it out. What should he do? Of them all, only Judas was not bothered. The innkeeper filled the glasses.

“May his name be long enshrined in our memories. Alas! his poor decapitated head. ... But here’s to yours, lads!”

“And to yours, you old fox,” said Peter, gulping down the eye.

“Don’t worry,” answered the innkeeper, “I’m not a bit afraid. I keep my nose out of God’s business and I don’t give a damn about saving the world! I’m an innkeeper, not an angel or archangel like your worships. At least I’ve saved myself from that fate.” With this, he grabbed what was left of the head.

Peter opened his mouth, but suddenly his breath was taken away: a huge man, wild and pock-marked, had appeared on the threshold and was looking inside. The companions drew back into a corner. Peter hid behind Jacob’s broad shoulders.

“Barabbas!” growled Judas, scowling. “Come in.”

Barabbas bent his thick neck and perceived the disciples in the half light. His ugly face laughed sarcastically. “I’m delighted to find you, my lambs. I’ve gone halfway to China to dig you out.”

The innkeeper got up, grumbling, and brought him a cup.

“You’re just the one we needed, Captain Barabbas,” he murmured. He bore a grudge against him because every time he came to the tavern he became drunk, began brawls with the Roman soldiers who passed by, and it was the innkeeper who got into trouble. “Don’t start your old tricks again, pig-cock!”

“Listen, as long as the impure tread the land of Israel, I keep my fists up, so get any other idea out of your head. Bring food, lousy horse-hide!”

The innkeeper pushed forward the platter of bones. “Eat. You’ve got teeth like a dog’s: they break bones.”

Barabbas emptied his cup in one gulp, twisted his mustache and turned to the companions. “And where is the good shepherd, my lambs? I have an old account to settle with him.” His eyes were spitting fire.

“You’re drunk before you even start drinking,” Judas said to him severely. “Your valiant exploits have already caused us enough bother.”

“What do you have against him?” John dared to ask. “He’s a holy man. When he walks he looks at the ground so that he won’t step on the ants.”

“So that an ant won’t step on him, you mean. He’s afraid. Is he a man?”

“He rescued Magdalene from your claws, and now you cry over spilled milk,” Jacob had the courage to say.

“He crossed me,” Barabbas growled, his eyes growing cloudy, “he crossed me, and he’s going to pay for it!”

But Judas grabbed him by the arm and took him to one side. He spoke to him softly, hurriedly, with anger. “What business do you have here? Why did you leave the mountains of Galilee? The brotherhood chose them for your hide-out. Others are assigned here in Jerusalem.”

“Are we fighting for freedom or aren’t we?” Barabbas objected in a rage. “If we are, I’m free to do whatever enters my head. I came to see for myself about this Baptist with his signs and great wonders. Maybe he’s the One we’ve been waiting for, I said to myself. If so, let him come without more delay, take the lead, and begin the slaughter. But I arrived too late. They’d already cut off his head. ... Judas, you’re my leader—what have you got to say?”

“I say you should get up and leave. Don’t mix in other people’s business.”

“I should leave? Are you serious? I came because of the Baptist and I hit upon the son of the Carpenter. I’ve been hunting him for ages, and now that God has set him right in front of my nose, you say I should give him up?”

“Leave!” Judas commanded him. “That’s my business. Don’t stick your hand in it.”

“What’s your purpose? The brotherhood, for your information, wants him killed. He’s an emissary of the Romans: they pay him to shout about the kingdom of heaven so that the people will be hoaxed into forgetting the earth and our slavery. But you, now ... What’s your purpose?”

“Nothing. I have my own account to settle. Beat it!”

Barabbas turned and threw a last glance at the companions, who were listening with cocked ears. “See you soon, my lambs,” he shouted at them maliciously. “No one gets away this easily from Barabbas. You’ll see, we’ll talk the matter over again.” He disappeared in the direction of the David gate.

The innkeeper winked at Peter. “He’s given him his orders,” he said to him softly. “Call that a brotherhood! They kill one Roman and the Romans kill ten Israelites. Not ten, fifteen! Watch out, lads!”

He leaned over to Peter and hissed in his ear: “Listen to me: don’t trust Judas Iscariot. These redbeards ...”

But he stopped. The redbeard had just reseated himself on his stool.

John was troubled. He got up, stood in the doorway and looked up and down. The teacher was nowhere in sight. The day had begun; the streets were filled with people. Beyond the David gate all was forsaken: pebbles, ashes, not a single green leaf—nothing but standing white stones: tombstones. The air stank from the carcasses of dogs and camels. So much wildness frightened John. Everything here was stone: stone the faces of men, stone their hearts, stone the God they worshiped. Where was the Merciful Father that the teacher had brought them! Oh, when would the beloved master appear so that they could return to Galilee!

Peter rose. His endurance had given out. “Brothers, let’s go! He won’t come.”

“I hear him approaching,” whispered John timidly.

“Where do you hear him, clairvoyant?” said Jacob, who did not care for his brother’s dream phantasies. Like Peter, he was impatient to find the lake and his boats once more. “Where do you hear him, can you tell me?”

“In my heart,” the younger brother answered. “It is always the first to hear, the first to see.”

Jacob and Peter shrugged their shoulders, but the innkeeper snapped, “Don’t scoff. The boy is right. I’ve heard say that— Wait, the thing they call Noah’s ark, what do you think it is? Man’s heart, of course! Inside sits God with all his creatures. Everything drowns and goes to the bottom while it alone sails over the waters with its cargo. This heart of man knows everything—yes! don’t laugh—everything!”

Trumpets blared, a din arose, the people in the streets made way. The companions became suspicious and flew to the door. Beautiful, nimble adolescents were conveying a litter decorated in gold; and lying inside stroking his beard was a blubbery notable, with clothes of silk, golden rings and a face greasy with easy living.