The Making of the Lamb (50 page)

Late the next day, Jesus sat with the elder druids who lined both sides of a pathway through a patch of woods at the summit of a small hill on Ynys Môn. The main path came up the hillside and then branched into two, one branch leading down the other side of the hill to the left and the other to the right. Elsigar sat on a stone between the branches holding a wand.

One by one the novices were led up the path in blindfolds. Elsigar sat impassively as each novice stood before him in turn. Jesus noticed the elders making silent signals to each other. Occasionally, Elsigar made a signal of his own. The signals made no sense to Jesus, except at the end of each novice’s evaluation. Without a sound, Elsigar pointed his wand to one side or the other, designating the pathway for the novice.

No one but the druids knew which pathway was for the chosen and which was for those not chosen, but after a few of his classmates passed by, Jesus detected a pattern.
All the best students are being led to the right.
He smiled as Genofi was brought forward and led that way. The boy was the youngest of the novices, a few years younger than Jesus, but clearly among the most gifted. Victrikta was led up a few minutes later.
Yes, she always contributes to class, and Elsigar is sending her to the right as well.

As the last of the novices was being led down the path to the left, Elsigar turned to Jesus. “We are about to start the rite in which the chosen are graduated. They all have several years of study ahead of them in their individual specialties, but tonight we ordain them to join the ranks of the druids in spirit. You are welcome to watch.”

“I would like very much to share this night with my new friends among the chosen, if you are kind enough to have me. I am sad for those who are not chosen, but they can come back to try again next year, I suppose.”

“Many of them do. But before you come to the rite, we must bind your wrists and blindfold you. This is the rule when we invite outlanders. I am sure it is not necessary with you, but it would offend our gods if we took no precautions against interference.”

“As you know, I come to druid rites because the spirit of my God moved me to learn and observe. This sounds as though I might be participating in some way, and that is something I cannot do and remain faithful to my God.”

“You will join us only as our honored guest. You have my word that this is just a precaution to satisfy our gods that you will not interfere. It has been this way when outlanders attend since the times of the
Tuatha Dé Danann
. You are not expected to do anything except watch.”

“I trust that you will not require me to do anything more.”
Binding my hands seems outrageous, but these druids have so many strange rules.

Jesus was blindfolded and led down the path to the right, where he expected to join his friends among the chosen. It felt odd. Whenever he tried to say anything, his guide told him abruptly to remain silent. He was led down a long slope. He finally sensed that he was entering a large clearing, as the air seemed to move more freely than on the confined pathway through the dense forest.

The guide stopped and pushed Jesus back against a post. “I must leave you here for a few minutes,” he whispered. “I will return soon, but I need to tie you for now.”

“Elsigar said nothing about—”

“Don’t make me gag you,” said the guide. “You must stay silent.”

Jesus could hear the murmuring of an assembled crowd. Something dramatic was happening.
Elsigar should have told me I was to be bound to a post. Is this some treachery? Elsigar would never do anything to harm me—would he?

A large forearm reached around his head and ripped away the blindfold. An apparition loomed in front of him, jogging an almost-forgotten memory of a passage he had once read in a scroll at the house of Uncle Joseph’s friend in Arelate.

The wicker man stood before him, just as Julius Caesar had described in his memoir of the Gallic War. The frame was twenty-five feet tall, with outstretched arms rising even higher. A small rise of land in front obscured the view of its feet and lower legs. The figure was covered by a basketlike weaving of branches and reeds, similar to the wattle framing Celts used in the construction of their huts, but not so tightly woven. In the falling light of dusk, Jesus could see the sacrificial victims climbing through the inside.
Did they not know they were going to be trapped? Did they not know the horrible doom they faced in the flames?
Incredibly, there was no sign of panic among them. At least not yet.

A hush fell over the crowd. Elsigar and the other senior druids advanced slowly on the wicker man, chanting in syllables meaningless to Jesus. They all bore lit torches. The druids coming from the right passed in front, while the ones from the left passed behind, forming a circle around the figure. They turned to face the apparition.

As the druids advanced, the hollow at the foot of the structure appeared to swallow them—only their heads and their arms holding up the torches could be seen. In the glimmering torchlight, the faces and features of the victims could be made out. Jesus gasped. These were not strangers; nor were they the rejected candidates who had been led down the pathway to the left. There were young Genofi and Victrikta, climbing toward the top among the best and brightest, the candidates Jesus had thought surely had been chosen.
What kind of school is this? Why do they study so hard for years and try to be the best they can be, only to be offered up as human sacrifices?

Jesus was overcome with a sense of horror. “Stop this!” he cried out. “Murder!”

Jesus’s cries seemed to be the cue for everyone else. The victims inside the insidious apparition appeared to finally realize their awful fate. They cried out in fear. Then the crowd behind Jesus began shrieking for the flame.

Jesus screamed as the druids raised their torches. Elsigar applied his first, putting the flame to some kindling strategically placed in the wicker man’s loins. The other druids followed suit, and a ball of flame soon enveloped the midsection of the giant figure. Jesus strained against his bonds.
Maybe I can get loose and save at least some of these victims
. Jesus wailed in anguish. One by one, the victims began to drop into the flame. Jesus prayed for them.
How they must be suffering!
Genofi was the first to drop. Victrikta soon followed. Some clawed their way higher into the arms and head, but they didn’t last long there. One by one, Jesus watched his classmates fall into the flames as the crowd cheered behind him.

Suddenly an ax struck the back of the post to which Jesus was tied, and his bindings fell away. “Go!” It was the voice of his captor. “Go save your friends from death, if you can!”

As Jesus dashed forward, the crowd cheered; they were cheering for him.
What kind of people are these? First they want to see these victims slaughtered, and now they want me to save them?
But Jesus did not look back. He clenched his fists as he ran up the rise, preparing to tear the wicker man apart with his bare hands. As he reached the top, he gasped at the sight before him. The last of the victims were being helped to safety as they lowered themselves from a net stretched several feet off the ground, between the wicker man’s feet. Looking up, Jesus saw that the wicker man’s loins had been consumed first in the flame, leaving a path for the victims to escape below the ball of flames that continued to envelope its midsection.

The druids formed two lines, forming a pathway from the hollow up the rise towards the assembled crowd. Elsigar walked slowly between them to the top of the rise, where he faced the crowd. As he raised his arms, the structure behind him collapsed in flames. “Behold!” he cried out to the crowd. “Behold those who are chosen. Behold those who are born again!”

The druids on either side held their wands to form an archway behind Elsigar. One by one, the newly-commissioned
ollamh
emerged to the cheers of the crowd. They still had years of study ahead, but in spirit they were now druids.

The
ollamh
formed themselves into a single line, and Elsigar addressed the crowd once more. “You have seen them born again. But to be reborn in the spirit they must first die to the flesh. Thus, it has been since Bran’s cauldron. Thus, it will always be.”

Kegs of mead soon appeared among the crowd, and revelries began in earnest.

Genofi was the first to approach Jesus. “That was awe inspiring, don’t you think?”

“It seemed so real. I was scared. I hope my screams didn’t ruin it for everyone.”

“Are you joking? It’s great when we have an outlander watching who has read that nonsense Caesar wrote about the wicker man. Your screaming made it so real. It was the best ordination—ever!”

Elsigar joined them. “Remember what I said. To be born again in the spirit, we must first die
to
the flesh. I did not say we must die
in
the flesh.”

“So the death you speak of is symbolic?”

“It’s more than just symbolic,” said Elsigar. “When we are born again in the spirit, we turn away from our old lives in the flesh, and in that sense we die to the flesh, but we do not destroy the flesh. We are not barbaric savages, though that is what Julius Caesar would have you believe. It’s not the worst of the lies he wrote of us. Remember that druids are practiced in the art of fire building; do not try this on your own.”

“I will take an oath, but I swear only by my own Lord, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” Joseph said as he faced his inquisitor. “I am a peaceful trader from Arimathea, a citizen of Rome, and even
noblis decurio
.”

“We are not used to Jews in this province.” The legate examined his scroll. “Very well, it says here that Jews need not swear by the gods of the emperor. Since you are a citizen, are you demanding trial before the emperor in Rome?”

Joseph looked at his inquisitor, who seemed green and ill-prepared.
They have detained me far too long already, and there is no telling how long it will take if they send me to Rome. They say the emperor is ill.
“I will stand trial right now.” Before anyone had a chance to speak, he stated his oath his own way, promising to answer truthfully any proper questions put to him.

The inquisitor held up a letter. “This was written by Gaius Germanicus, a trader of unquestioned integrity,” he said.

“An old commercial rival of mine,” said Joseph. “He trades with the Cantiaci on the eastern coast of Britain.”

The inquisitor handed the letter to Joseph, and Joseph read it quickly. According to Gaius Germanicus, word of Jesus’s exploits at Rumps, including the way Jesus had dealt with Pirro’s treachery, had spread as far as eastern Britain.

“This is not proper evidence,” said Joseph. “Gaius Germanicus says nothing in this letter about what he has seen with his own eyes or heard with his own ears. He is repeating rumors picked up from the natives of Britain. Those natives would not be competent to testify against a Roman citizen in a Roman court. There is no one here competent to testify against me.”

“The objection is well taken,” ruled the legate.

The inquisitor questioned Joseph, but he was inexperienced at his craft. After some argument about the phrasing of the questions, he seemed confused. “What do you know directly about the outcome of the battle?”

“I was not there.”

By this time the legate had lost interest, and quickly dismissed the case. “You’re free to go, but you should keep an eye on that nephew of yours. From what I’ve heard, he seems like a troublemaker.”

Joseph and Kendrick soon had another vessel outfitted to take them to Britain. They set the course for Ynys Witrin. Between the wrecks and Joseph’s imprisonment, they had been away for months.
Jesus has been off on his own on some fool’s errand to the north. It will be a miracle if Daniel has held everything together with that witch of a druidess plotting against us.

Jesus looked across the water to the entrance of the Brue, glimmering in the morning light. A Celtic trading vessel was taking him back to Ynys Witrin, along with Arvigarus and Elsigar. He would be back in time to take supper with his mother.

Arvigarus joined him on deck.

“This has been quite an adventure for me, studying with the druids,” Jesus remarked.

“I don’t think I am cut out to be a druid,” said Arvigarus. “My head is swimming with everything I need to remember, and this is just my first year. I don’t know how my father will take it when I tell him.”

“I cannot believe I fell for that performance with the wicker man. When you saw it, did you know it was just symbolic, or did you think they would truly burn the victims?”

“Everyone knows that no one actually dies in the flames.”

“I feel so foolish. Everyone must be laughing at me—the way I carried on.”

“You should not feel that way,” said Elsigar, stepping up behind them. “Without an outlander screaming murder, the wicker man is nothing more than a ritual. Your screams helped make real the concept of dying to the flesh so we may be born again in the spirit. Do not be troubled if any laughed at your screams, for it is they who are impious.”