Absalom told the madman, and, for the first time, got a reaction out of him.
“It has come. It is time. One thousand years.”
“What’s the babbling idiot talking about?” Isaac asked.
Absalom shrugged, feeling a stabbing under his arm as his broken bones shifted.
“I don’t know. He’s mad.”
There was a lot of that about too.
“No,” the madman said, “listen…”
It was quieter than usual. The dying were calming down.
A rabbi scuttled around the corner, bent over by the low roof. He was hardly more than a boy, his beard still thin and wispy. His robes were full of tears, each rip a ritual sign of grief for a dying man he had attended. All the rabbis in the city were looking like beggars these days.
“Hear me,” the madman said, “hear my confession…”
“What, what,” said the rabbi, “confession, what’s this, what’s this?”
“Is it true about the sky?” Absalom asked.
“Yes,” said the rabbi, “a rain of blood has fallen, and a lamb with a glowing heart has been seen in the clouds. Most significant.”
“Of course, of course,” said the madman. “He has returned. It was prophesied.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the rabbi, “I know all the prophecies by heart, and this is without precedent.”
“Hear me out.”
There was something about the man that persuaded the rabbi. Absalom was interested too, and Isaac. A few of the others, dim shapes in the dark, pulled themselves nearer. The madman seemed to glow. His pain was forgotten, and he let the rag fall away from his festering wound. It was a bad one. Absalom could see into the man’s entrails, and could tell they were not healthy. It must have been a sword stroke at one of the gate skirmishes that had done for him. But the madman did not feel the hurt any more. He sat up, and, as he spoke, his eyes glowed brighter.
My name is Joseph. I was born in Judaea a thousand years ago. No, I’m not mad. Well, maybe I am. A thousand years, a thousand deaths, would send anyone mad. Whatever, I’m a thousand years old.
When I was born, Judaea was ruled by the old Roman Empire. Romans were accustomed to being welcomed, or at least tolerated, as wise and beneficent rulers throughout their imperial domain. But they could never persuade the Judaeans to accept their rule and there was always a revolt going against them. The biggest of these, led by Judas of Galilee, was against a poll tax the Romans imposed. It was suppressed with efficient brutality. But the Romans never broke the spirit of the Jewish people, the Chosen People.
In a shithole called Nazareth, there grew up a humble carpenter. We were born in the same year, so we’re the same age. He was Yeshua bar-Joseph; called, in the Romanized form, Jesus, son of Joseph. About the age of thirty, He decided to quit His trade and become a travelling preacher. He pulled in the crowds wherever He went. He also gathered a small band of dedicated followers, hangers-on who believed all He said and talked Him up with the rabble, and bully boys who kept Him out of trouble with the priests and the occupation goons. As Yeshua’s reputation spread, so did the stories about Him, stories of miracles that He performed — walking on water, raising the dead, curing the sick, the crippled, the blind, the leprous. Back then, the cure for anything was a miracle. He could also turn water into wine, which made him very, very popular.
His disciples decided that Yeshua was the promised one, the Redeemer, the Messiah of the Jews. Others said He was the son of God. Yeshua the Nazarene, son of Joseph became known as Yeshua the Anointed One. In later years He would be called by the Greek word meaning the anointed one, Christos.
As I said, this was a bad time for Judaea politically; the Messiah, if Yeshua was He — something He never denied — was expected to rescue the country from the Romans.
He also annoyed the priests by saying the Law was only a starting point for moral improvement. His love of ordinary people no matter how much they had sinned and no matter how vile their status, annoyed the clergy even more. The ordinary people, understandably, loved Him. He mixed with harlots and tax-collectors and Samaritans. The scum of the earth. If you want to get a sect together, that’s a good way to start. People who’ve been pissed on all their lives love being told they’re something special. Rich people already know they’re special.
It wasn’t long before everyone in power wanted Yeshua dead. The Romans thought He might be a dangerous revolutionary. The Pharisees disagreed with His preaching. The Sadducees, who were rich and who wanted to placate the Romans and not disturb the status quo, regarded Him as a distasteful upstart with some funny ideas about people being resurrected after death. The Zealots, real diehards who wanted to remove the Romans by force, wanted to use Him as a figurehead for a revolt, even though He had renounced the use of violence. His ideas were peace, love, justice and prayer and He preached that the kingdom of God was coming, though He never said when it would arrive. If you want to know what happens to people who preach peace, love and justice, go ask Rabbi Judah.
After three years preaching on the road, Yeshua visited Jerusalem for the first time. Although He was just a hick from up-country Galilee coming to the political and religious centre of Judaea for the first time, He got a spectacular welcome. The mob turned out to see Him arrive. He came riding in on a donkey as if to say “look, I’m no better than any of the rest of you”. And everyone was expecting Him to do great things. They threw palms to the ground in front of Him and lined the streets, asking him to do magic tricks. A cousin of mine, Jacob the wine merchant, turned up with a cartload of waterbags, and tried to get Him to turn them into wine, and he got beaten up by Peter bar-Jonah, who was Yeshua’s strongarm man. That was one of the first things that put me off this so-called Anointed One.
His entry into Jerusalem raised everyone’s expectations. And what’s more, He had walked into the arms of the Romans and the priests. They would have no trouble getting their hands on Him now.
Everyone waited a few days to see what would happen. In the end, the priests decided to remove Him. One of Yeshua’s close friends, Judas, was a Zealot. He wanted Yeshua to raise the people against the Romans, but when it became clear Yeshua would do no such thing, Judas tried to force His hand. He thought that if he led the priests to Yeshua, his friend would be forced to run from them and led the revolt, or that the people would be so outraged by the sight of Yeshua being put on trial for sedition or blasphemy that they would spontaneously rise up. Judas went to the priests and told them he could set Yeshua up for a nice quiet arrest. The priests agreed, and Judas led an armed posse of temple guards to Yeshua. But Yeshua, instead of making a hasty escape, went along meekly. Judas started to realize he’d made a big mistake, and emptied a few wineskins in misery.
The next day, Yeshua was taken before the Council of the Sanhedrin, who drew up a series of charges against Him. They wanted Yeshua safely dead, but they couldn’t condemn Him to death themselves. They had to make a case that would convince the Romans to execute Him.
The priests, you understand, were not all evil men. Many of them were worried that the Nazarene would lead the whole of Judaea into confrontation with the Romans. This provincial troublemaker might have plunged the whole country into war, and that would have been bad for business for everybody. The high-priest, Caiaphas, told the other council members it was their duty to condemn this one man in order that the rest of the nation should not suffer.
Many members of the council wanted to hang a blasphemy charge on Yeshua, but Caiaphas persuaded them to ignore that, and use the charge that would frighten the Roman authorities most. So they alleged unfairly that He had been inciting revolt against Roman rule. A few days before, Yeshua had thrown a fit in the Temple, and kicked some money-changers out of the Court of the Gentiles, so the small business lobby was against Him. A couple of money-changers were prepared to allege that He was shouting “death to Caesar” as he roughed them up.