2 The Judas Kiss (32 page)

             
But I could not know then what I know now, and in the end, my children grew up happy and healthy.  My wife was remarried, and when I saw her once, old and tired, ready for death, my only regret was ever attempting to love her in a way I never could.

             
We reached Jericho in the middle of the day, the sun blisteringly hot, our feet tired and aching.  Yehuda stayed silent during the entire journey, his face a mask of anger and fierce disappointment as we entered the city.  The Roman presence was heavy, as we were even closer to Jerusalem, and I could almost feel the unrest.

             
We were taken to the men Yeshua had left behind, twelve in all, and several of them that I recognized.  Cephas saw us and immediately approached, his face full of relief as he embraced us one by one.

             
“You’ve come,” he breathed, ushering us to a small table where he offered us wine and food.  “I was unsure that you would make the journey.”

             
“Still no word from our brother?” Yaakov asked quietly as he observed the room.  “How long has he been gone?”

             
“Three weeks,” came the voice of another man I recognized.  Andrew, I believed, the brother to Cephas.  Andrew had spent most of his studies in Rome, but had returned within the last five years with his family. 

             
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Yehuda said, his voice rough and tense.  “What sent him out into the desert?”

             
“He was hearing voices,” Cephas said.  He dropped to the floor to sit, looking weary and worried.  “His dreams were relentless, messages from some unknown entity.  He couldn’t explain these visions, but gradually he stopped eating, and eventually he had waking dreams.”

             
“When did the dreams start?” Yehuda continued.

             
“When the healings began.  At first it was a blessing.  Just a touch would bring relief and wellness to those we passed.  Rumors of his abilities traveled, a healer trained in the East, and everyone wanted to see him.  He was able to bring a man back from the dead, I cannot explain it, but I saw it with my own eyes,” Cephas said, sounding almost frightened.  “We thought this a great miracle, and even Yeshua exclaimed that his grandest teachers could not dream to have such an ability.  But then things began to get bad.  The more he healed, the more he began to lose touch with himself.  He began to ramble, things stopped making sense when he spoke.  The dreams began a few weeks later.  His wife Miriam, pleaded for him to stop, but he cast her out.”

             
“Where is she?” I asked, almost desperate to speak to the woman who would have been the only one to know him deeper than his brother could have. 

             
“She is with her sister, just up the road,” Andrew said.

             
“Fetch her, please,” Yehuda barked, and the authority he spoke with sent Andrew immediately out the door. 

             
“He said that the voices commanded him to go out into the desert and meditate.  He said he would emulate the Buddha, to fight against the demons and triumph over his fears.  He would become one… it was strange teachings, it frightened all of us,” Cephas said quietly.

             
“We will find him,” I said, trying to keep my voice low and soothing.  “Cephas, you’ve always been a good man, a strong man.  You brought me peace where I felt I never would have any, and I promise that we’ll get him right again.”

             
Cephas let out a breath and smiled at me.  “You’ve always been a good boy, Makabi.”

             
I smiled back and then turned to Yehuda who was staring out the window at the busy streets.  Neither one of us wanted to venture out there now.  It was dangerous times, we were strangers in the city, and the Roman guards looked anxious and irritated.  I hadn’t had my ear tuned in to current events in the city, so I wasn’t sure how deep the unrest went in the Hebrew community.

             
“Your brother has attracted some attention of the Sadducees,” another man chimed in.  I recognized him as Cephas’ fellow fisherman, Judah.  He was a young man, much younger than Cephas, and he’d always been a very quiet person.  I was surprised to see him there, but didn’t comment on that.  “They took Tau’ma in for questioning,” he finished, nodding to a tall man standing near the door.  “They accused Yeshua of blasphemy.”

             
I felt my face grow hot with fear and stared at Yehuda who had still not moved his gaze from the window.  “What came of that?”

             
“Nothing,” Judah said.  “They could not find him; he’d gone missing by that point.  I worry, though.  They said he was stirring up trouble and we urged Yeshua to stop spreading his message, but he wouldn’t listen.”

             
I hung my head and rubbed my hand over my face.  “We’ll seek him out once the sun goes down and we can search under the cover of darkness.”

             
After some time, Yaakov went off with the other men to talk and work out the logistics of what to do once we had Yeshua back safely, leaving Yehuda and I in the room alone.  I’d had quite a bit of wine and my head was feeling light, my tongue loose, and while logically I knew I should keep my mouth shut, I couldn’t keep the words from pouring out.

             
“You need to stop being this way,” I said, sliding my chair closer to the table.  I put my hands on the top and stared at Yehuda until he looked at me.  “You’ve been nothing but callous and hard since your brother returned and now look where we are.”

             
“It’s not my job to mind my brother,” he snapped at me, his eyes going narrow.  “I am not his keeper, and he’s been missing for more than half of my life.  You don’t seem to realize that Yeshua wanted to go.  He hated this family; he didn’t ever try to belong with us, Makabi.  Even you, the Roman born, rich pagan managed to belong with us, but he never did.  He was in the womb with me, and still he took the first opportunity he could to leave and he didn’t look back.  He didn’t apologize when he returned; he didn’t explain or attempt to make amends with me.  He simply appeared, and when I didn’t come to him, again he let me go.”

             
I listened to his words and while I could sympathize, I had no reference.  I couldn’t possibly begin to imagine what that would have been like, to share a bond the way the twins did, and then to be abandoned without second thought.

             
“I am sorry, Yehuda.  I truly am,” I said.  “I can’t imagine what you’re going through—”

             
“No, you can’t,” he said, staring at me with a look I’d never seen before.  His face was drawn, serious, his eyes full of a pain that went deeper than I had ever seen it.  “You, Makabi, could never understand how alone I am.  You, at least, have your wife and family.  I live with you, but outside of everyone’s circle.  I was always different, and I always imagined Yeshua would be there with me, but even he left me alone to bear this weight.”

             
I was confused, unsure what Yehuda was talking about, but I was afraid to ask him to speak further on it.  Even today I don’t believe it would have made a difference, had he explained to me exactly what he meant, but sometimes I do wonder.  Yehuda was in love with me.  I was the reason he never took a wife, and while he felt this way, he never said anything.  It wasn’t until Alexandria burned that I found out how he really and truly felt, and I don’t believe knowing back then would have made a difference.

             
“So I will never understand, I accept that, but right now you aren’t helping, and Yeshua needs you.  He may have abandoned you, but that’s no reason to abandon him.  You’re angry, and no one is telling you not to be.  But you still love him, and you know it, and right now we all need your help.”

             
Licking his lips and sighing, Yehuda sat back, crossed his arms and glanced again out the window.  “I know.”

             
“So will you help?  Please?”

             
“He’s probably going to die, you know,” Yehuda said, but I could hear in his tone that he had acquiesced and was ready to start looking the moment the sun went down.

             
We sat there in silence, watching the afternoon pass into dusk.  The hazy orange sunset filtered across the sky, turning red, then fading into the deep purple of the impending night.  After a while, the soldiers’ numbers began to lessen, and as the town was settling in for sleep, the footfalls on the sandy streets slowly disappeared.

             
Andrew had not yet returned with Miriam, which had me worried, but I couldn’t focus on that.  Yaakov and Cephas were ready to go, and I knew it was now or never.  I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that we were searching for a man wanted for questioning by the Jewish High Priest.  The Sadducees controlled the Sanhedrin most of the time, and worked close in hand with Pilatus.  The last thing I needed was to be arrested for conspiring against the government.  There would be no escaping fierce punishment for that, even if I fell back to my Roman heritage and citizenship.

             
We crept out, feet bare, sliding across the sand until we reached the base of the mount.  It was not a massive place, and wrapped around into the deep desert without trees or brush to hide in.  It was a place that the local people believed demons resided, waiting to destroy and devour any man foolish enough to wander in too far.

             
I, personally, didn’t believe in such things.  The idea of demons, ancient angry gods, devils or the like was just too much.  I’d worshiped pantheons of gods, and I’d worshiped just one, and never had I seen anything to validate those beliefs.

             
The others seemed timid, including Yehuda, though he put on a brave face and kept pace with me.  We split from the other two, telling them to check in the surrounding area while Yehuda and I ventured up a small trail leading up the side of the mountain.

             
“Do you know where he is?” I whispered.  I had a feeling that Yehuda would be able to sense him, and I knew I was right when he gave me a stiff nod and took the lead.

             
The walk took an hour, but before long we reached a small plateau overlooking the north side of the land.  The plateau was dark, flat, and the wind was high and angry, whipping our faces with grains of sand.  My eyes stung and I shielded my face with my hand as we moved toward an unconscious body lying precariously close to the edge.

             
I could tell it was him by the tattered robes, bright orange even in the dim light of the half-moon.  Yehuda reached his side first, kneeling down and checking to see if there was still breath in his body.

             
“It’s going to be difficult to carry him down,” he said, trying to make himself heard over the whipping wind.  “Can you manage with me?”

             
I nodded and moved to Yeshua’s feet, and together we lifted him, pushing ourselves against the strong winds as we walked the winding path back down.  The half-way point, the wind died down and the journey became easier.  I could see the small, shadowy figures of Yaakov and Cephas waiting for us, and when we approached them, they rushed to our sides.

             
“Is he alive?” Cephas breathed, bending down low over Yeshua’s face.

             
“Yes, but he’s going to need a lot of care,” I said, shifting my weight from one side to the other.  “Is there anyone in your group skilled with healing?”

             
“Only Yeshua,” Cephas said.

             
“I doubt he can heal himself.  The powers seem wrong to me, and I don’t want to venture in that direction,” Yehuda said.  “Let’s get him somewhere safe and see if we can get him fluids.”

             
We reached the house and laid him out on the floor, making a pillow of robes under his head.  His skin was dry, cracked in many places, and from the state of his lips I could tell he hadn’t had liquid in many days.  He was likely near death, and I wasn’t sure he was going to pull out of this slumber.

             
We managed to get moisture into him, by squeezing water from a sponge into his mouth.  We watched him all night, and as the sun finally began to rise, he started to stir, taking more liquid eagerly, but weakly, suckling from the sponge like a newborn child.

             
Those of us left in the house took shifts with him, keeping him drinking as much as possible, and trying to keep him cool.  Around noon his entire body began to heat, a fever raging through him, and even bathing him in water did little to take the fever down.

             
“Do you think he’s going to die?” Yehuda asked wearily, late in the evening as Tau’ma was on shift.  Tau’ma was wiping Yeshua’s brow down with a wet cloth, and we watched as the water all but disappeared the moment it touched his skin.

             
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.  That was the truth.  I’d never seen a man that sick who didn’t eventually succumb to death.  Even after my mother’s illness ravaged her body and she recovered, she was never the same, and eventually it took her.  “We can pray.”