Neither did Shirazi seem well composed. His skin was pale, and he was biting his lip. Bronski's lips were open, his teeth clamped together, his hands raised half-clenched to the level of his chest.
A man clad in a sky-blue robe floated downward. His feet were bare. His long hair trailed behind him, hair that seemed to be dark-red. His arms hung down at his sides, and his head was thrown back.
The rabbi cried, 'Ya Yeshua' ha-Meshiakh!' and the mob roared out the same greeting.
'Oh, Jesus the Messiah!'
The man who alighted on the platform amidst the screams and yells and sobbing of a million people was about five feet eleven inches tall. His hair was Titian and so was his beard. The face was that of a handsome Levantine. It did not, however have the features impressed upon the famous shroud of Turin. His arms were muscular but not massive. His hands were large, but the long fingers made them seem less broad.
The eyes were black, liquid, and luminous. The lips were, Orme thought, a little too thick for a Caucasian's, but then who was he to criticise? The cheekbones were high; the cheeks, somewhat sunken; the nose, long and slightly aquiline; the chin, strong and well-rounded and deeply clefted. His skin was a beautiful golden-brown.
He stood there for a moment, looking at the people upon the platform. Then he turned and raised his right hand and spoke in a rich baritone, a voice with great authority.
'May The Spirit of Holiness continue to smile upon you, my children. He has been well-pleased with you, and the Day of the Return is near.'
The crowd cheered for many minutes. Finally, he raised his hand for silence, and he got it at once, except for the babies, who were crying again.
'The Return is close, but there is much work to be done before then. Tomorrow, your leaders will tell you what the details are; you know the outline of the plan. Thus, I will not, as I have in the past, spend this day with you.'
The crowd groaned.
He smiled, and said, 'But I will not be going back to my home as soon as I have been accustomed to. This time I will be with you for two weeks.'
A million cheered.
Hfathon bellowed in Orme's ears. 'You four are especially honoured! He must be staying because of you!'
Orme scarcely heard him. He was getting numb, though not so much that he was not aware of his trembling. He felt an intense painful urge to urinate. The figure of Jesus was wavering as if he were seeing it through heat waves.
Jesus lifted his hand. Again, as if a switch had been pulled, the noise of the mob was turned off.
'Go now, my children, to the synagogue and worship your Father and afterwards enjoy yourself with feasting and laughter and love and all the good things that your Father has blessed you with. Shalom.'
Jesus turned then and walked towards the four. Orme sank to his knees and kissed the hand held out to him.
'Forgive me, Lord,' he said. 'I doubted; I've done bad things. I...'
Everything whirled. The next he was aware, he was on his back looking up at the bearded face.
'What happened?'
'You fainted,' Hfathon said. 'So did Madeleine.'
14
The four Terrestrials were in the front room of the Shirazis' house.
'It was all emotional,' Orme said. 'A matter of conditioned reflexes; my childhood beliefs took over. I'm okay now. Cool, real cool. I can look at him objectively.'
He added, grinning faintly, 'As long as he isn't around.'
Madeleine had said very little since she had left the platform and, supported by Nadir, had walked home. Orme supposed that she was ashamed and humiliated. No wonder. She'd been a staunch atheist since she was eighteen. She openly scorned those who believed that God could exist and she laughed at those who claimed that Jesus was His Son. It was true that the Martians had made no claim about virgin birth. In fact, they denied it.
Nevertheless, the sight of a man floating down from the sun, a man whom the Martians not only believed had lived over two thousand years but who could prove it, and this man's close resemblance to the portraits hanging in her parents' home and to those in churches and art galleries, all this had stormed through her. And the long-buried but never-dead beliefs had taken over.
Or was it that she had suddenly doubted that she had been right? And her self-image as a scientifically minded sceptic, a thoroughly rational person, had been destroyed? One of the worst things that could happen to a human being was to have the self-image brutally crumbled and swept away in a very short time. There were no defences against that except insanity or suicide - unless the ravaged person was very strong.
She was strong, or at least he had always thought so until now. At this moment she looked as if she were partially recovered from a long illness.
Avram Bronski broke the long silence that had followed Orme's words.
'I was almost overcome, too,' he said. 'So don't you feel so bad about it, Richard. It was a tremendous experience. However, as you say, we have to remain cool. After all, there are explanations for his being able to float through the air without any visible means of support. Visible is the key word. Who knows what device he had under his robe? That aircraft that took us to the platform didn't have any visible means of propulsion either. So why couldn't he?'
This was reasonable. Yet no one really thought this was the right explanation. The man called Jesus radiated a power that made it very difficult not to believe that he was what the Martians claimed he was. It wasn't his words, since these were not extraordinary. Nor was it his features or bearing, which, though handsome and strong and imposing, were equalled or exceeded by many men they'd known. It was a force, a charisma (a word which meant little now because it had been used too much and too inappropriately), an invisible lightning leaping from him. The Krsh and the humans here strongly desired to see him, touch him, be with him, so they could receive this flow of power. But the four Marsnauts were afraid of him and dreaded seeing him again. At the same time, they were attracted by the human magnetic field he radiated. But they had to be with him in the near future. There was no easy way of avoiding it.
Perhaps it was not that they feared him: they feared themselves.
His force was not restricted to contact with the flesh. Later that morning when they turned on the TV, they saw him coming out of the main government building, and the effect of the holograph image was almost as great as that on the platform. Danton got up in the middle of the programme and turned it off. No one objected.
'I don't know,' Madeleine said, shaking her head.
'Don't know what?' Nadir said.
'I just don't know.' Without excusing herself she went into the bedroom. The Iranian started to get up to go after her but changed his mind. Sitting back down, he said, 'I'm worried about her. I can't get her to talk about what's troubling her.'
'You know what it is,' Orme said. Shirazi didn't reply. What was the use?
At that moment the TV came alive, and Hfathon's two-foot high image was standing before them.
'Shalom,' he said. 'I'm inviting you to come at once to the university so you can start work on the next transmission to Earth. After that is sent, you'll be allowed to talk with your people from time to time.'
If he'd expected joy at this news, he was disappointed. The three looked gloomy and for a moment didn't speak.
Then Orme said, 'We'll be right over, Hfathon. Three of us will be, anyway. I don't know about Madeleine.'
The Krsh's feathery eyebrows rose. 'She doesn't have to if she doesn't want to. But you'll have to explain to your colleagues on Earth why she's absent. Otherwise, they might have some sinister interpretations.'