When at last they were quite spent she turned over on her side and fell asleep at once. He lay awake beside her sweaty body, looking up at the roof of the arbour. He thought of the man on the middle cross and of what had happened up there on the gallows-hill. Then he began to wonder about that darkness, and whether it had really happened. Could it be as they said, merely something he had imagined? Or perhaps it was just something up there at Golgotha, as they had noticed nothing here in the city? Up there anyway it had been dark; the soldiers had been scared, and one thing and another-or had he imagined that too? Had he just imagined the whole thing? No, he could not work it out, didn't know what to make of it…
Barabbas thought of him again, the man on the cross. He lay with his eyes open, unable to sleep, feeling the woman's fleshy body against him. Through the dry leaves on the roof he could see up into the sky-it must be the sky, although no stars were to be seen. Nothing but the darkness.
For now it was dark both at Golgotha and everywhere else.
Next day Barabbas walked about the city and met many whom he knew, both friend and foe. Most of them seemed surprised to see him, and one or two started as though they had seen a ghost. It gave him a nasty feeling. Didn't they know he had been released? When would they realize it-that it was not he who had been crucified?
The sun beat down, and it was extraordinary how hard it was to accustom his eyes properly to the glare. Perhaps something really had gone wrong with them during his time in prison? He preferred to keep in the shade, anyway. As he passed the colonnade in the street leading up to the temple he went in and sat under the arches to rest his eyes for a while. It felt good.
One or two men were already sitting huddled along the wall. They were talking in an undertone and seemed to resent his arrival, looking sideways at him and lowering their voices still more. He caught a word here and there but could make no sense of it; what of it anyway, he didn't care what secret dealings they had. One of them was a man of about his own age and with a red beard too; the hair, also red, was long and tousled and joined the beard. The eyes were blue, which gave a curious, simple appearance, and the face was large and fleshy. Everything about him was large. He was a real rough diamond, an artisan, judging from his hands and clothes. It didn't matter to Barabbas who he was or what he looked like, but he was the kind of man one couldn't help noticing, even though there was nothing whatever remarkable about him. Except that he had blue eyes, of course.
The big man was upset; in fact, they all were. They were evidently talking about someone who was dead; it seemed like it anyhow. Now and then they would all sigh heavily, men though they were. If that was really the case, if they were mourning someone, why didn't they leave the lamenting to women, to professional mourners?
Suddenly Barabbas heard that the dead man had been crucified, and that it had happened yesterday. Yesterday…?
He strained his ears to hear more, but they lowered their voices again and he could catch nothing.
Who was it they were talking about?
People were walking past out in the street and it was quite impossible to hear a word. When it was more or less quiet again, he made out enough to know it was as he thought-it was him they were talking about. He who…
How strange… He had been thinking about him a while ago himself. He had happened to pass the archway leading into the courtyard, and this had brought him to mind. And when passing the spot where the cross had been too much for the man, he had also thought of him. And here they were sitting talking about that very man… Strange. What had they to do with him? And why did they whisper the whole time? The big red-haired man was the only one who was audible occasionally; his body didn't seem suited to whispering.
Were they saying anything about-about the darkness? About its having grown dark when he died…
He listened tensely, so eagerly that they must have noticed it. They suddenly fell completely silent, not uttering a word for a long time, merely sitting and looking at him out of the corners of their eyes. Then they whispered something amongst themselves which he couldn't catch. And after a while they took leave of the big man and went away. There were four of them; there was not one he liked the look of.
Barabbas was left sitting alone with the big man. He had half a mind to speak to him, but could not think how to begin. The man sat there pursing his lips, and now and then shaking his big head. As is the way with simple folk, he gave bodily expression to his troubles. At last Barabbas asked him outright what was worrying him. He looked up in perplexity with his round blue eyes without answering. But after gazing frankly at the stranger for a moment he asked if Barabbas was from Jerusalem. No, he wasn't.-But you seem to be, from your speech? Barabbas replied that his home was not so far from here, away in the mountains to the east. The man evidently found this more reassuring. He didn't trust these people here in Jerusalem, not an inch, he made no bones about it; he was sure most of them were downright robbers and scoundrels. Barabbas gave a smile and quite agreed with him. And what about himself? Himself? Oh, his home was a long, long way from here. His childlike eyes tried to express just how far away it was. And he wanted very much to be where he belonged, he confided ingenuously to Barabbas, not in Jerusalem or anywhere else in the world. But he didn't suppose he would ever get back to his native soil and live and die there as he had meant to do, as he had once imagined. Barabbas thought it sounded queer.-Why not? he asked. Who was to stop him? Isn't every man his own master?
– Oh no, the big man replied musingly. That is not so.
– What was he doing here then, Barabbas could not help asking. The big man did not answer at once, but then said uncertainly that it was because of his Master.
– Master?
– Yes. Had he not heard about the Master?
– No.
– Oh. About the one who was crucified yesterday on the hill of Golgotha?
– Crucified? No, he had not heard about it. Why?
– Because it was ordained that such a thing must come to pass.
– Ordained? Was it ordained that he was to be crucified?
– Yes, indeed. It said so in the scriptures and, besides, the Master himself had foretold it.
– Had he? And it said so in the scriptures? Well, personally, he was not so familiar with them that he knew of it.
– No, nor am I. But that's how it is.
Barabbas did not doubt it. But how was it that his Master had to be crucified and what was the point of it anyway? It was all very strange.
– Yes, that's what I think. I can't see why he had to die. And in such a horrible way. But it had to be as he had prophesied. It must all come to pass as it was ordained. And he used to say so many times, he added, bowing his great head, that he must suffer and die for us.
Barabbas glanced up at him.
– Die for us!
– Yes, in our stead. Suffer and die, innocent, in our stead. For you have to admit that we are the guilty ones, not he.
Barabbas sat gazing out into the street and asked no more for a time.