Messiah: The First Judgement (Chronicles of Brothers) (40 page)

A strange breeze stirred. A gentle hand rested on her shoulder.

‘You must not grieve, princess.’

Jotapa stirred. A weary anger blazed in her bloodshot eyes.

‘He is dead. He whom I loved is dead, and you dare tell me not to grieve, Ayeshe.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘You forget your place,’ she muttered. ‘My father shall hear of your indiscretion.’ And like a petulant child, she pulled the blankets up over her head, bursting again into a loud sobbing.

‘Jotapa.’ She froze under the blanket, staring curiously out with one eye at the stranger bending over her, His face covered in an Arab head-dress.

‘Daughter of Aretas, king of Arabia.’

Jotapa’s eyes widened in recognition as Jesus moved directly in front of her, His eyes radiant.

Tenderly, He removed her veil, picked up the bowl of lamb’s meat, and held it to her lips. She stared transfixed into His eyes. Her own never moved from His.

‘Eat, princess...’

He smiled. Then He removed his head-dress.

She stared at the beautiful countenance before her, spellbound by His beauty.

He was the same, the very same. She frowned. And yet, not the same at all.

She studied Him: His deep eyes with the long black lashes, the strong, noble features, the thick dark hair that fell in waves down past His strong shoulders. Yet something had changed irreversibly. Then she looked down at His hands, marred by two fresh gaping wounds. Her mind reeling in shock, again she reached for Him.

‘No, Jotapa. You cannot touch Me.’ He shook His head gently and moved back. ‘I must ascend to My Father and My God – to your Father and your God.’

Tears streamed down Jotapa’s soft, pale cheeks. ‘You go to see Your Father,’ she whispered.

Jesus nodded, tears of yearning streaming down His face, in this, His greatest hour after thirty-three years apart. Jotapa watched Him with infinite tenderness as He looked up at the night sky with intense desire. Suddenly, a violent desert storm blew up from nowhere and the stinging desert sands lashed fiercely against Jotapa’s cheeks. Clutching her blankets tightly to her, fighting against the violent winds, she struggled towards the entrance to the tent, where she turned.

Jesus stood in the midst of the raging storm, His face and robes lashed by the sand, staring upward at the open heavens, which parted before Him. Radiant with yearning.

Jotapa stared out from the safety of the tent entrance. She could swear that she had seen figures in the sky. She turned inside to call Ayeshe.

‘Ayeshe!’ she cried, then turned back.

The storm had stopped as suddenly as it began. Jesus had vanished.

‘He is gone to His Father, Ayeshe,’ she whispered in wonder.

She sighed, new hope illuminating her eyes. ‘And I go to mine!’

Chapter Forty-two

The Carnelian Chalice

Jether stood by the fountains in the Tower of Winds. The zephyrs blew his long, silvery hair and beard as he stared out at the vast armies of heaven, returning through the twelve entrances of the great pearl gates from their victory against Lucifer’s armies.

Gabriel strode through the gardens towards him, his face radiant.

‘Well done, noble Gabriel!’ Jether embraced him fiercely.

Gabriel bowed deeply before Jether.

‘I have escorted our King back to the First Heaven. He prepares to meet Yehovah. He bids you come to Him with the Carnelian Chalice.’ Tears rolled down Gabriel’s cheeks; he wiped them away with his hand uncaring.

‘He is in His garden.’

* * *

A cherub took Jether’s stallion while another ushered Jether into the thick, swirling white mists of the First Heaven’s Eden. Jether carried an enormous Carnelian Chalice in his hands. On its lid was engraved a simple golden cross.

He walked past the golden trees and through the narrow pearl arbour covered with pomegranate vines laden with lush silver fruits, breathing in the heady perfume of the magnificent hanging blossoms in the Gardens of Fragrance that exuded the aromas of frankincense and of spikenard. He trod over beds of gladioli and frangipani trees, across lawns of golden bulrushes and buttercups with fine crystal stamens in their centre towards the intense shafts of blinding crimson light radiating from far beyond. Across the vale, he came to an inconspicuous grotto at the very edge of the cliffs of Eden, surrounded by eight ancient olive trees.

He pushed open the simple wooden gate.

Standing in the centre of His garden, His face only faintly visible through the rising mists, stood Jesus. He was clothed in shining white garments; His gleaming hair fell past His shoulders.

Slowly He turned, and Jether fell to his knees, his arm shielding his face from the glorious white light emanating from the figure’s countenance. ‘Christos,’ Jether uttered in ecstasy.

Gradually, the white mists faded. Jether stared down at Jesus’ feet, the jagged wounds still fresh. ‘Christos...’ he whispered.

‘My task is accomplished.’ Jesus’ voice was soft. ‘I have paid the penalty for the Race of Men.’

He looked around at the great olive trees.

‘It was here that Lucifer kissed Me so many aeons past ... before his treason,’ He said softly. ‘It was fitting for what was to come.’

Jether nodded. ‘It was here that it began, when he was told of the advent of the Race of Men.’

Jesus gazed out as the shimmering rays settled to reveal, a hundred feet ahead, across a vast chasm, the magnificent Rubied Door, ablaze with light, embedded into the jacinth walls of the tower – the entrance to Yehovah’s throne room. He gazed out at the shimmering rainbow that rose over the crystal palace.

At length, Jesus spoke. ‘And it is here that it is completed.’

Jether knelt before Jesus, the Carnelian Chalice in his outstretched hand. ‘Every drop of blood that was spilt at Golgotha,’ Jether whispered in reverence. ‘The blood sacrifice for the souls of the Race of Men. Undefiled.’

Jesus took the chalice from him. ‘Rise, faithful servant of Yehovah.’

Jether rose to his feet, following Jesus’ gaze out towards the great Rubied Door. Slowly the colossal door opened, and with it the lightning and thunder grew in intensity, and a tempestuous wind blew.

‘You will be summoned, to the Great White Throne, in Eden, on the plains of the Great White Poplars.’ Jesus raised the chalice in ecstasy, His eyes gleaming in adoration.

‘My Father awaits Me.’ He vanished into the white, rushing mists. Then He reappeared across the chasm and walked inside the Rubied Door.

Chapter Forty-three

Mourning

Aretas sat at his desk, his head in his hands. ‘So the reports are true,’ he mumbled. ‘He is dead.’

Jotapa knelt before him, her face pale. ‘Yes, Papa,’ she said softly. ‘It is true He died, but...’

Aretas ran his hands through his still thick, silvering hair. Wearily he looked up at Jotapa. Though she was dressed in her black mourning veils, her eyes shone with an ethereal glow.

Aretas’ leathery face was haggard; he must have been without sleep for days, Jotapa thought, and his eyes were strangely swollen. She wondered if he had been weeping.

‘I had...’ He struggled to speak, then swallowed hard. ‘I had hoped...’ His hand fell heavily on the table before him. ‘No matter ... It was a fool’s dream.’ Aretas raised his head. Suddenly, he seemed old ... much older than his sixty-seven years. Jotapa stared at him. Silent, her eyes wide with grief.

‘You
did
believe...,’ she murmured. She looked at her father in wonder.

‘I see now that I was foolish,’ Aretas murmured. ‘It was emotional ... an illusion.’ He looked in her eyes, grasping for hope. ‘You saw Him ... die.’

Jotapa nodded. ‘Yes, Papa, He died.’

‘But He lives.’

She reached out to Aretas, but he shook her off him, a terrible fury clouding his features.

‘
Desperate
tales!’

Jotapa drew her face close to his.

‘I saw Him, Father.’

Aretas’ countenance grew dark like thunder. Jotapa persisted.

‘Your friend Abgar, prince of Armenia, has written to Lord Tiberius saying that the Hebrew is risen, that He has appeared to many,’ she said, her face flushed with excitement.

‘Many graves and tombs were opened, Papa – over twelve thousand; it is the talk of all Jerusalem. Simeon, the high priest ... his sons, blood brothers Karinus and Leucius ... their graves were opened. Annas and Caiaphas joined with Gamaliel and Nicodemus and found them in the city of Arimathea – alive! Alive, Papa! Resurrected. They swore by the God of Israel that they had arisen from the dead. They wrote of what they had seen – that they were in deep, shadowy darkness and suddenly Hades was alight with royal purple light shining on them. John the Baptist was there, and the prophet Isaiah! The Hebrew resurrected them, Papa!’

Aretas stood to his feet, hunched and in that moment very, very old.

‘I cannot take it.’ He stared at her in fury. ‘These lies sicken me. Leave me alone!’

Jotapa ran, clutching his robes, but he pulled himself away from her.

‘Leave me, Jotapa!’ he cried. ‘
Get out
!’ He pushed her away from him. She tripped over the hem of her garments and fell to the floor. Aretas stormed into his bedchamber, leaving his daughter sobbing on the marble floor.

The doors ricocheted shut behind him.

Chapter Forty-four

Echoes of Eternity

The seven pale lilac western moons glimmered softly on the horizon of the First Heaven. Indigo lightning struck the seventh spire, far above the rock face of the Holy Mountain. Seven hidden chambers in the mountain ascended into the inner sanctum of the labyrinths.

The secret entrance to the throne room, accessible only by the ancient ones from from the seventh spire, was barely visible, wreathed in the glistening mists that rose and fell in the dawn zephyrs.

Michael stood a thousand feet below, in the gardens that lay behind the rubied entrance to the throne room, outside the western labyrinths of the seven spires. Seven scorching columns of eternal white fire blazed fiercely and unrelentingly at the seventh entrance to Yehovah’s palace, underneath the immense flaming rainbow.

‘Jether was summoned to the seventh chamber before the western moons arced in the heavens,’ Michael said.

Gabriel tethered his white steed to one of the great gnarled willows that flourished on the lawns of the western labyrinths. ‘Yehovah delivers His pronouncement concerning the fate of Lucifer,’ he said.

Michael clutched his gauntlets in his hand. ‘His Judgement hastens.’

‘The First Judgement,’ replied Gabriel. ‘The judgements of the damned...’

‘And the one who instigated their damnation at the start,’ Jether said softly.

The princes turned.

Jether stood at the base of the labyrinths, holding a flaming eternal torch, his head and crown covered by his white mantle.

‘It is time, Michael, chief prince of the royal house of Yehovah – He commissions you to leave for Perdition immediately. You will return with Lucifer before the grand councils of Yehovah, for the First Judgement. At the Great White Throne, in Eden, on the plains of the Great White Poplars.’ He placed his hand on Michael’s shoulder.

‘Bring Lucifer to his old chambers in the West Wing. Ephaniah will be waiting with his ceremonial regalia.’

Jether pushed the mantle back from his head wearily.

‘He damned the Race of Men in earth’s Eden. Heaven’s Eden will be where he is judged.’

* * *

Lucifer stood, his hands and feet shackled, outside the huge golden doors of the Western Wing of the Palace of Archangels. Michael pushed open the doors, then pushed Lucifer through into the centre of the enormous chambers. Michael nodded to Sandaldor, one of his High Command, who immediately unshackled Lucifer’s hands and ankles, then bowed and took his place with twelve of Michael’s command outside the doors. Lucifer stood in the centre of the enormous chamber, dressed only in a stark grey tunic, studying his old chambers. Everything was untouched, exactly as it had been the night before he was banished. The magnificent frescoes, his collection of pipes and tabrets – his viol and bow still lay on his writing table. His Sword of State was placed back in its magnificent jewelled sheath. The enormous rubied palace windows were flung open, and the sounds of the angelic orations from the Mount of Assembly echoed throughout the chamber.

He stared up at the soaring vaulted ceilings with their spectacular panoramas that covered the ornate carved ceilings of the chambers, then walked to the tall casement doors that led onto the shimmering white beaches in front of the Palace of Archangels. A company of white-winged stallions thundered past across the beach and soared into the firmament past the twelve pale blue moons that were now rising from the Eastern horizon. Michael watched, silent, as Lucifer stared after them in exhilaration. Lucifer turned, catching Michael’s gaze. He walked over to the writing table, then stood beneath the hundred blazing frankincense tapers and inhaled deeply.