The Making of the Lamb (64 page)

On Aghamore’s signal, the Belgae druids and the people behind them stepped back to clear a path for the guards to bring Daniel to the stake.

As they led Daniel through, Jesus stood and cried out, “Stop! I will redeem the prisoner!” All eyes turned to him.

“I will not deny my daughter justice for any price,” the king replied sadly.

“You seek justice, and that is what I offer—not just silver. I am the son of the one true God in heaven, and I offer up my own life in place of Daniel’s. If you execute Daniel, the recompense she receives in mortal blood will fade from memory, but execute me in his stead, and your bards will sing for ages of the recompense she receives from the divine.”

Aelhaern looked stunned, and then he laughed. “You not only come as an outlander and expect us to accept your god, but you say that you are divine yourself! I have never heard of anyone so bold. You have taken leave of your senses!” Aelhaern looked over to Elsigar. “Do you see now why I said it was foolish of you to bring an outlander to Bangor?”

Joseph and Daniel were shocked into silence at first, and then both shouted out to Jesus at the same time. They looked at each other, and Joseph went ahead. “You are innocent of any crime,” he said to Jesus. “Daniel must be the one to pay the penalty.”

“My Father in heaven told me I must surrender my life to redeem the whole world from sin that is not my own. I would sooner die here and now, knowing my sacrifice redeems the life of at least one worthy man.”

The crowd buzzed like a nest of angry wasps.

Aghamore held up his hand for silence. “I am moved by the gallantry of your offer, Jesus, senseless though it is. I know what the so-called civilized people of the world think of druids and Celts. They say we are barbarians. The Romans say we are ignorant and cruel, while they gorge themselves with the sight of blood in their arenas and watch their victims slowly suffer death on their crosses. Even the Jews—yes, I know something of your ways, ignorant barbarian that I am—even the Jews call us pagans.

“Let no one say that Britons are without mercy and compassion,” the king continued. “I commute the sentence! We shall not consign the prisoner to the flame. Let his death be merciful and quick, and let it stand as a testament to the goodness and mercy of my daughter.” The king turned to the captain guarding Daniel. “Let it be done at once.”

Before anyone realized what was happening, the captain wound a cord tightly around Daniel’s throat. He placed a stick in the garrote and turned it, lifting Daniel from behind. Daniel choked and clawed the air.

Jesus cried out and ran to Daniel. His cousin expired just as Jesus grasped out to hold him. Mary shrieked in anguish as Jesus and the guard released the body, which fell limp onto the ground.

Arvigarus joined Jesus and his mother as they wept over the body.

Joseph turned away.

Jesus rocked the body of his cousin like a child. “No. Daniel, no.” Jesus’s breathing grew rapid and shallow. He looked at his mother. “How can this be? Why does God hate me so?”

“He doesn’t—”

“He must! He wants to destroy me to save the world, but he won’t let me save the one person I most desire to save.”

Grengan sent men to fetch a wagon to carry off the body.

Jesus clung more tightly.

Mary put her hand on his arm. “You must let him go, Jesus.”

Jesus winced and bowed his head. He lay the body on the ground, and stood over it. “I don’t understand.” His voice was hoarse. “I was willing to sacrifice myself, just as my Father wants. Why did I fail?”

Arvigarus tried to recall all that Jesus had said about the extraordinary prophecy of his sacrifice. “I gather…your god…your father, you call him…wants this sacrifice to be your choice.”

“I was willing to die for Daniel, but my Father doesn’t care.”

“I don’t understand all about your…father...your god...but...” Arvigarus looked over his shoulder but could not find Joseph, who was no doubt better suited for this strange conversation. Mary was bent over the body, murmuring prayers in her native language. “Could it be that it’s not enough to make the sacrifice out of love for the one being redeemed? Maybe you have to make the sacrifice out of obedience to your god. Or love for him.”

Jesus closed his eyes and sighed. “Oh. Yes. Of course.” His eyes flew open. “Both.”

The chief druid came forward and sneered at Jesus. “You say you are the son of the one true god, and yet he has commanded you to surrender your own life to redeem the world. We have seen that you cannot redeem even one man. You will die, as all men do, but your death will mean nothing. Elsigar told me how your god will have you die on the cross. It will be for naught. No one will remember you.”

“My Father in heaven says that all who claim me shall have redemption.”

“And you will give your life for this. Is that so?”

“That is my choice. I make it here and now.”

“Let us say that only one hundred righteous men remember you and claim you, as your father says. Would you die for one hundred? I think that would be quite a generous estimate, to be honest.”

“I would die to save one hundred souls.”

“Let us say you lack ten to make one hundred—”

“I will die to save ninety.”

“Let us say it is only ten—perhaps a mighty king, a couple of worthy men, a few women, and some slaves. Let us say that they are the ones who remember you and claim you. Would you die for them as well?

“I would die to save just ten.”

“Let us say that all of them were slaves. Would you die for ten slaves?”

“Yes, I would suffer the cross for slaves.”

Aelhaern held up his hands and walked around, mocking Jesus. “This son of a mighty god would yield up his very life, for what?—just a few slaves. Some all-powerful and almighty god that must be!” The Belgae laughed along with the druid. Even some of the Dumnonii and Silures joined in.

“Well, Jesus, suppose it were just one slave. Suppose it were not just any slave—no. Let us suppose it is this slave.” With that, Aelhaern turned and pointed to a figure crouching on the ground, held tightly by the neck with a collar and chain.

“Save me, Jesus!” the figure cried.

It was Pirro.

“I see that you know each other,” the druid continued. “Elsigar told me about you and him. We caught him the other day trying to escape across our territory.” The druid poked at Pirro with his staff, drawing yelps from him and guffaws from the crowd. “He deserves to die just as much as your cousin, but he is such a pathetic creature, and his death would hardly restore honor to the Belgae. He is not worth our trouble. He is yours to redeem—that is, if you want him. What will it be, Jesus? Will you give your life for him?”

Jesus looked at Pirro, and slowly closed his eyes.

“Think about it.” Aelhaern continued to circle. “We all know the story. Think of how this slave tried to betray you to your enemies at Rumps. Think of how that caused the death of Fedwig. Think of how you ransomed his freedom once already and how he squandered that gift. Now tell us, Jesus. Will you die for one pathetic creature such as this?”

Jesus opened his eyes, glanced at Pirro, then turned to Aelhaern. Jesus looked the druid directly in the eye. “I will die for him. I will suffer all the pain and humiliation of crucifixion for him. If his were the only soul written in the Book of Life, I would die for him still.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Aelhaern. “What shall it be? I suppose we could arrange a crucifixion if you like, but that is not something druids do, and we would hate to frighten the children. We could burn you at the stake—the pyre is still there. I also offer you the choice of garroting—you can go the same way your cousin went—it is quick and painless.”

“My Father will have me return to my homeland,” said Jesus, “and fulfill my ministry first.”

“So is that the catch?” Aelhaern shook his head, as the crowd laughed again. “I love the way these outlanders do business,” he said, turning to the crowd. “Yes, I will give my life in torment to redeem this poor soul. But no, I can’t do it
now
.” The crowd roared. “I must go home and do my ministry first, but don’t worry, just spare me the life of this murderer, and somewhere and sometime, maybe a year from now, maybe ten or maybe twenty, sometime when it is a little more—how do I put this?—sometime when it is a little more
convenient
, I will go through with all that torture and death.” Aelhaern shook his head. “Jesus, you may call us barbarians, but we are not fools.” He turned to the guard holding Pirro and pointed to his prisoner. “Burn him at the stake.”

As the crowd laughed, a stroke of lightning flashed from the sky and struck one of the lintels of Stonehenge.

Arvigarus looked up. A dark cloud appeared overhead. The earth shook. One by one, some of the lintels and pillars of the monument crashed to the ground. A massive voice filled the sky, coming from nowhere and everywhere. “Do not doubt the promise of my begotten son!” The lightning, thunder, and earthquake suddenly stopped, and stillness fell.

Suddenly Jesus was standing next to Arvigarus. “What happened?” he asked Jesus. “You were over there and now you are here.”

“God my Father took Elsigar and me away across time and space, and then brought us back. I’m sorry to startle you. I forgot where I was standing before.”

Joseph pointed at Elsigar and said, “Look how his face glows, just like Moses.”

“Who is Moses?” Arvigarus asked.

“He was a great prophet,” said Jesus. “One of the very few to see God…until now.”

“What happened to Elsigar’s face?”

“He too has seen God.”

Elsigar raised his hand and a hush fell over the crowd. “When the earth and sky were formed there was a creator,” he began. “The Fisher King taught the
Tuatha Dé Danann
of this in the ages before all human knowledge. The Jews know him by many names. Yahweh, among others. To the Fisher King he was simply the Creator. The Creator has shown me that Jesus is indeed his begotten son, and he has taken me to the time and place where Jesus will die on a dreadful Roman cross. I have seen his suffering, torment, and death. The Creator has shown me that for the divine there is no present, no past, no future. Jesus has chosen the path of obedience, and his suffering and death are real in the here and now.”

Elsigar began chanting in a tongue Arvigarus did not understand.

“What’s that?” Arvigarus asked.

“He’s calling the spirits of the earth,” said Jesus, “in the language of the
Fir Bolg
.”

“In whose language?”

“That of the
Fir Bolg
,” Jesus said.

Arvigarus gave him a blank look.

“The druids believe the
Fir Bolg
are the giants who ruled the earth before the coming of the
Tuatha Dé Danann
,” Jesus explained. “They were the ones who lost the Battle of
Mag Turied
.”

Elsigar raised his arms to the sky as he completed his chant. Suddenly, a burning cauldron, solid gold, brightly reflecting the sunlight, appeared in the sky above them. The druid turned to Jesus. “I am sure you remember the Mabinogion, the story of the Cauldron of Bran that I told you at Samhain. It brought back to life the slain warriors. According to the teachings of the
Tautha de Danaann
, it was destroyed by Efnisien, the British hero. But there are certain ordinances, burned deep in the fabric of the earth, that transcend the
Tautha de Danaann,
and that each archdruid has passed in secret to the next generation from the days of the Fisher King. Among these, it was written that when the heroic son lays down his life for the despised slave, Bran’s cauldron will be restored unto him.”

The cauldron hovered over Jesus’s head, dissolved into a stream of golden particles that enveloped him, then vanished into the air.

“Redeem your cousin, Jesus,” Elsigar cried. “Then go and redeem the world.”

Jesus turned to the body of his cousin and pointed at him. “Daniel, rise up!”

Someone laughed. But then Daniel began to move. A hush of amazement fell over the crowd. The bruising and gashes from the garrote faded and disappeared. Daniel rubbed his eyes as if waking from a sleep. He rose to his knees, then stood and looked around at the people as if unsure of where he was.

Elsigar lowered his arms, and the glow faded from his face. He addressed the crowd. “I am diminished. The time of the druids and the
Tuatha Dé Danann
has passed. A new age is here, and the people will know the true godhead. I leave for Eire, and from thence I will sail to the west.”

The archdruid turned and walked away, never to be seen again.

Judea, the River Jordan, A.D. 29, during the reign of Tiberius, second emperor of Rome

J
ohn knew people thought of him as a wild man, but he cared not. His raiment was made of camel hair, and a leather girdle wrapped his loins. He fed upon locusts and wild honey. He cried out to the people to repent, for the kingdom of heaven was at hand. His was the voice crying in the wilderness to prepare the way of the Lord and to straighten his paths.

People came to him to be baptized, and he did so. “I baptize you with the waters of the river,” he told them. “But one is to come, one mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear. He will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire.”