Fifth Gospel: A Novel (Rosicrucian Quartet) Paperback

by Adriana Koulias

Illuminated and reconciled were all the arguments of same and similar, image and likeness, persons and natures! So many disagreements, misunderstandings and half-truths! So much blood had been shed when it had all been so simple!

  But my elation was followed by a sudden fear, a fear that there might not be any mysteries left to tell. For what mystery could be greater than a God permeating a man? When I told Lea, she smiled quietly.

  ‘Oh…pairé! Now it really begins; now we see how a man becomes a God!

  I hit the side of my head, for I realised that she was right!

  32

  THE FIRST CALL

  As I continue this path to that field below Montségur, with the sound of priestly chants in my ears and the bee guiding my descent, I sing to remember how life in the fortress had, by that time, grown more and more unbearable.

  Storms and sleet and bitter cold came to keep the women and children indoors. In the keep it was crowded, and the stench of animals and bodies was high. To this was added the boredom of days spent waiting, and the hunger, which drove even the most affable to arguments, and sometimes to blows. So terrible were the aimless days that whenever there was fighting with the French it seemed almost a respite.

  The seigneurs of the fortress had hoped to wear out the patience of the army, expecting that when bad weather came, the French would pack up and go home to sit before their fires. But as winter approached the army grew in number and in boldness, while we began to dwindle and to grow weak.

  One night, the noise of shouts and screams reached the room at the end of the spiral stairs and when I came to the court below, I found the fortress in chaos.

  Basque mercenaries had taken a narrow ledge on the eastern face of the pog, some way below the fortress. We all knew what this meant: it gave our enemies a foothold from which to assault us. I told the people that we were not yet desperate, for that ledge was perilous and difficult to reach from below, and that even if a siege engine could be built in such a place the French would have to guard it day and night and they would suffer bitterly from the cold winds and the snow. On the other hand, I told them, we still controlled the barbican and our secret path had not yet been discovered. This was a blessing, for it meant we could continue to communicate with the world below and have soldiery and fresh supplies brought to us. Secretly, however, I knew it was only a matter of time before the French found our secret path, a path that would lead them to the Barbican and to the sealing of our fate.

  When I saw Lea again my heart was filled with a mixture of joy for being with her and apprehension for what would come. She said nothing about our troubles and I tried to put the gloom and foreboding from my mind. I asked her what she would tell next.

  ‘Well, pairé,’ Lea said, ‘after the baptism those who saw it with their own eyes could not agree, for each had his own understanding. They were like men standing around a tree; each man only sees one side and believes he can know the entire tree from it.’

  I pondered this. ‘But Lea, if those who saw it with their own eyes couldn’t agree, what hope is there that we, centuries later and with only meagre documents and word of mouth to guide us, will find agreement?’

  ‘But pairé, it was important that there be very little evidence of Jesus Christ.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘It was important that his life not be a historical fact, but a mystical one, for how else could faith be born?’

  ‘But look at the suffering it has caused, Lea!’ I said, aghast.

  ‘The angels are not concerned for the suffering of men, pairé, they are only concerned with learning.’

  ‘If that is so why are we told that our angels weep for us?’

  ‘They weep when men do not learn from their suffering! You see, pairé, only men can transform the wisdom they gain from suffering into love; and only love can save all of creation.’

  All of creation – now there was a hefty weight!

  ‘But is love not happiness, Lea?’

  ‘Love does not always make us happy, for happiness should not be preferred over goodness.’

  ‘Then what good is love, if it makes one unhappy? Oh I am confounded!’

  ‘Love helps us to endure our suffering, it makes us steadfast in our sorrow.’

  I was unable to suppress a faint moan, which escaped my lips in reply, for now I thought of the love that kept those in the fortress from despair, the love that enabled so many to endure hardship and suffering, and I knew deep down that she was right.

  ‘You see, you can see it!’ she said, and began, without waiting for another comment from me, to conjure before my eyes a picture of John the Baptist sitting upon his rock, watching over his flock like a faithful dog awaiting its master.

  ‘A kind wind from the north had come to tame the heat, and his followers were taking advantage of it, since they could do no work,’ she said.

  And as she spoke, I could see it myself, with my inner eye.

  ‡

  Into John’s communion with God there entered the words of the red-bearded, hawk-eyed Judas. John opened an eye. The man was standing among the fishermen and he was saying,

  ‘Well, for my part, I’ll only believe he’s the Messiah if I hear that he’ll make Israel great again. I want to hear him say that he’ll avenge our enemies, that he’ll kick out the Romans and the priests, and release us from the bondage and the curse that we have suffered! I am after the joy and the glory that was promised by the prophets! And, I shall not let that fish off the hook!’

  John had discerned darkness in that man’s heart at his baptism and would have turned him away if his angel had not told him Judas’ destiny was sealed in the circle of those who would recognise the coming one.

  The fisherman Andrew spoke next.

  ‘Stop zealot! Stop for heaven’s sake!’ he said. ‘Your words are daggers in my ears! You speak of hooks…but you should spend some time on the sea! That would settle you down. Out there you have no charge over anything…you are always at the mercy of God and what he will do for you! Not the other way around!’

  ‘I only require what has been promised,’ Judas gave back. ‘Why else do our people eat and breathe and breed if not to make a body for the Messiah who will come to save us? Why have we come to this river to be soaked in its icy waters if not to prepare for when he comes?’

  ‘Wait a moment, Judas!’ Simon, the brother of Andrew said, with an officious air. ‘He has come! Did you not see the lighted wings that flew over his head yesterday? I saw the whole world stop from adoration of it. Even those devils that live in the plants and in the river, in the trees and stones, were gathered together to see it before scurrying from the place in fright! He is come, Judas! Now we can all rest easy, for all men will be brothers.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Judas said, with a snake for a mouth inside that red beard, ‘and the cow will sleep with the lion, and the chickens shall play with the fox! Fairy tales! Only through blood and war shall anything be accomplished, my brothers. Believe me! Only through blood and war! Love is not the way of our God! He is a hard God. We know our God don’t we? He bares our backs and roasts our carcasses, and milks our veins! He is that same God that swallowed up Sodom and Gomorrah into His belly! The same God Who sent plagues and flood and famine to those who did not mind Him! If this God is born into a man, as the baptiser would have us believe, then He will also be a hard-hearted God – a God of war! What else could he be? I will wait…I will watch and see.’

  Simon regarded him with a frown. ‘It looks like you have not seen anything at all, Judas! These two eyes saw it. I saw no hardness, only a gentle glow and a tender light. Whether an angel or a spirit, who can say? But it was divine, of that I’m sure! It came and I saw it. Andrew saw it too didn’t you, my brother? And what about you, James, did you not also see it, and you, little John? Did you not see how the lighted wings, silent and tender, fell over the chosen one whom our master baptised? Philip, what do you say?’ he trawled their hearts for an answer. ‘And you, Nathanae
l, surely you if no one else?’

  ‘I saw something,’ Nathanael affirmed, ‘but I can’t tell what it was for certain! Besides, the man Jesus is from Nazareth…I told Philip before, nothing good comes out of Nazareth!’

  James said, ‘I don’t know that it was wings I saw…but I’m certain there was something in the air above him.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t see it fall.’

  ‘Wait!’ said little John, ‘I saw it come down like a dove, and land on his head…and do a little dance…well, maybe it wasn’t a dance…I don’t know what it did but it landed, that’s for sure!’

  Andrew looked around with a red face. ‘I’m ashamed lads, I didn’t see anything, I was afraid and looked away, and by the time I looked again, it was over!’

  ‘Well then, it’s all the same, going up or coming down…all the same!’ Simon summed it up: ‘We saw the spirit of God, that’s what it was and no mistake! Just as the Baptiser said, the spirit of God descended into Jesus!’

  Judas made little imperceptible nods of the head, and looked at the fishermen with hooded eyes. ‘I think you see what you want to see!’

  ‘You may not believe us, red beard,’ Andrew spat, ‘but you had best believe John the Baptist, a prophet of God!’

  ‘Prophets are unreliable people,’ Judas dismissed. ‘They’ve been shouting about the end of days and calling for fasting and prayer since Moses! And where has it got us? We’re still in the wilderness, still under the yoke of our enemies! Still licking their hems! Prayer and fasting are not the answer. Sometimes a man must rely on his knife.’

  The Baptist came down from his rock.

  He wondered why men were plagued by obstinacy. Why they were so preoccupied with trivialities, so spiritually dull that only moments after they had seen the most significant event in the world, the vision of it was faded away into the hollowness of petty concerns. He scanned the grounds and his eyes found the rich youth from Bethany, sitting alone some distance away. Lazarus was his name. On the boy’s arrival some days before, John’s angel had torn open his eyes to show him the workings of the boy’s soul. For this reason, he had not baptised him, but had spent long moments alone with him, moments of quiet conversation, preparing him for what was to come.

  He nodded to himself. At least him, if no one else!

  He looked up to the tormenting sun and full of frustration and disappointment he cried a long, wounded howl.

  All men regarded him with fear and awe.

  ‘How many have I baptised?’ He asked the startled people. ‘How many are prepared for His coming? How many? Woe!’ he said, pointing his finger at his followers. ‘Woe unto you, spawn of Israel, if you fail to recognise your Messiah! Be not concerned what he will do for you, but rather be mindful of what you can do for him! Then offer up your souls…leave everything behind you…follow his shadow! Do you not see that my only purpose has been to prepare you for Him? Do not fail me!’

  But as John had finished his words, an intuition made a pass over his heart and he stood paused, listening. When he looked, he near lost his bearings. He fell to his knees and pointed to a man who was moving among those who were resting by the water.

  ‘Look!’ John said sucking air into his lungs, ‘There is the Lamb of God! Do you see Him? I bear record to you…He is the Son of God! He is greater than I, and you must prefer Him above me!’

  Those most prepared by John, and even those who had not yet experienced the loosening of baptism turned to look. Those who could see it were stricken by palsy. Only two men were able to overcome their shock enough to make their way to Him – Andrew and John of Zebedee.

  The Baptiser watched them go. It was done, nothing to do now but wait.

  He climbed his rock and sat down again and as the slight chill announced to him the waning of his days he continued his meditation.

  33

  WATER AND WINE

  Mariam saw the form of a man come over the rise. At first, she thought him a shepherd walking ahead of his flock until she saw that his flock was not so many sheep but so many men.

  She saw Jesus shield his eyes to look at her, and in that moment she too shielded her eyes, but not from the sun, which was behind her, but from what seemed to overflow from him. She did not know yet what it was but she was full of comfort to see it.

  Now came a shy greeting, full with intimate expectation. Jesus had brought home her other sons, Jude and Simon and Jose, and she was also glad to see them. After meeting those others who had followed him, her daughters set off to prepare the water for their libations while she and Salome took themselves to the house to prepare a simple repast. Later while they shared the meal in the cool of the evening, she heard of Jesus’ doings, of his baptism by John the Baptist and of his travels with his followers in the wilderness of distant lands. The fishermen took turns in telling how in every place, men, women and even children, had recognised Jesus and had sought him out for a blessing or a healing.

  When the guests, weary from their long travels, retired to sleep, she looked for Jesus, desirous to speak with him alone, and to learn what lay in his heart. She found him in Joseph’s workshop tinkering with an old chair. From the shadows she observed him working in the half-light of the oil lamp and recalled the many times she had come here seeking solace. A desire swelled to go to him and to hold him like a mother holds a son, but he seemed so different. Much had passed since that night long ago when he had left to seek out the Baptist. The time in between seemed to her like a vast ocean and she only a weary boat looking for a shore. And so she hesitated.

  Sensing her presence he looked up. ‘This chair needs mending.’

  ‘Chairs break from too much sitting down. I let those, who sit to mend the chairs.’

  Jesus made a smile at her playfulness, and a smile grew on her face to see his. She had brought a pitcher of water with her and now poured him a cup. ‘Are you thirsty?’

  ‘Like a camel!’ he said, ‘You see, I haven’t forgotten your words.’

  ‘No…I see that you haven’t.’

  He drank a little and paused to observe her, and in that pause she saw him change before her eyes. In a flicker, both a tempest of pain and the most expanded lightness of being became apparent. He seemed like those Nazarites who returned from their caves having battled with the devils in their souls. He must have fought and overcome something and now this overcoming had generated that great effulgence she could see spilling out from him.

  ‘It seems I am always seeing something in you!’ she said.

  ‘What do you see?’ His eyes held hers.

  To look at him near blinded her and so she looked away. ‘I don’t know what to tell you…I see a dazzling glory!’ she looked again, ‘Praise be God! I see…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I see the Son of God!’ Immediately she put a hand to her mouth as if she had blasphemed.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, you have committed no wrong…’ he said, ‘trust in your heart.’

  Tears came into her eyes. ‘I feel joy!’ She lost her balance then and she was shaking. He steadied her and held her face close to his.

  ‘This is heaven expressing itself through you, for this is the first time my mother in heaven sees the Son who long ago departed from her…she sees me through your eyes!’

  Again she felt she would faint, and to forestall it he held her with one hand and took the cup of water and brought it to her lips. ‘Drink this,’ he said, ‘it will sustain you.’

  When she took a sip she was full of confusion. She looked into the cup trying to decide whether she believed it.

  She stared at him, ‘How does this taste of wine Jesus?’

  Jesus nodded. ‘It is only water…but what lives between you and me can make even water taste of wine.’

  She had heard these words before; they echoed the words spoken by the Anchorite in Egypt so many years ago.

  ‘This is a mother’s love for her son,’ she marvelled.

  ‘And his love for his mother,’ he replied.<
br />
  Before she could say more the storm of light that had surrounded Jesus ebbed away. So swiftly did it go that she wondered if she’d seen it at all.

  Returned to those eyes was the calm expression she knew. ‘You look tired…’ he said to her, ‘Tomorrow is another busy day.’

  She hesitated, ‘I have been saying fare-thee-well to you all your life Jesus, and now I find myself not wanting to leave you, lest you disappear into thin air!’

  Jesus nodded. ‘I know. But this is a new season, and we must not say fare-thee-well, we must say, Shalom.’ Fixing her with his eyes he let his face open in a smile. ‘Shalom, mother…shalom!’

  He hugged her and she hugged him and embarrassed and happy closed her eyes, settling this word into her heart.

  Shalom.

  When the moment was over she took the pitcher and cup from Jesus and turned around to walk out of the workshop, feeling the swelling of a love so great in her heart that she could neither contain it, nor properly express it.

  ‡

  ‘But it was only days later,’ Lea explained to me, ‘at a wedding of a relative that she realised how destiny had fashioned that moment with Jesus for her understanding.’

  ‘You are speaking of the Wedding at Cana, aren’t you? Where the water tastes of wine,’ I said, to her. ‘This has always bewildered me.’

  ‘You see, pairé,’ she said, ‘the love of a heavenly mother for her heavenly son is a love beyond earth and blood. Such a love can inspire a feeling of good will that is so strong that it can make water taste of wine, that is, that it can make all men feel like kin!’

  ‘But this love, Lea…is it magic?’

  ‘It is wisdom, a wisdom that works like magic in the soul. To one, this wisdom is as sweet as honey, pairé, while to another, it is bitter. This good will enabled those at the wedding to see what lived in Mariam, and they never again called her the stepmother of Jesus. They called her…the Mother of God.’

  Now, as I walk in this darkness, those words ring in my ears and I remember how a rush of understanding had washed over me.