Chapter Four: The Hamlet of Tibernum
Arriving in Nazareth on a cloudy morning by way of Caesarea, centurion Decius Publius and his contubernia set about interrogating the few inhabitants left, at the insistence of Thucydides of Delos. After observing the burned and collapsed ruins of Joseph and Mary’s home, they pressed on, one wall of the structure having fallen into the street, scorched and broken stones still lying on the opposite sidewalk. Moving from house to house, the doctor questioned several Nazarenes about plagues and vampires, most looking at him as a deranged physician.
“I know nothing about any vampire. A lot of people died here recently yes, but I didn’t, and I don’t care,” a very elderly man named Jehoshaphat answered.
“What about her, did she see anything?” asked Dr. Thucydides, pointing to his wife, propped up on a dilapidated couch.
“Rachel, she’s not even here,” said the old man, his expressionless, senile wife staring into space.
“I’m sorry, just one more thing, can you tell me if it was a plague that killed the others?”
“Probably, all I know is one day they were fine, and the next they were dead and gone.”
“How did they die?”
“Who knows, but I certainly didn’t see any vampires lurking around, if that’s what you’re trying to imply,” Jehoshaphat retorted before closing the door.
“Thank you,” Thucydides said to the closed door.
They came to another occupied dwelling, a middle-aged man answering the door, rubbing his eyes, the scent of wine heavy on his breath.
“Have you seen this man?” asked the doctor, holding a parchment sketch drawn with the likenesses of Jesus and Mary Magdalene.
“Nope, who is he?”
“Jesus of Nazareth.”
“Oh yeah, the blasphemer. I haven’t seen him for a good while, didn’t they kill him in Capernaum or something?” the man asked, slurring his words.
“What about this woman?” asked Thucydides, pointing to a sketch of the Magdalene.
“Good looking broad, she was a whore named Miriam wasn’t she?” the man asked with another slur, leaning on the jamb.
“Mary was her name, she was once, but we now believe she and Jesus may be vampires.”
“Speak for yourself Thucydides,” said Decius as his second in command chuckled.
“Are you kidding?” asked the man.
“No I’m not, vampires are real.”
“Sure they are,” the drunk retorted, slamming the door.
“I told you,” said Decius, looking to Thucydides.
Passing a dozen empty houses once owned by Jesus’ vanquished enemies, they finally came to another occupied dwelling. A child answered the door, calling for his mother. She arriving, the doctor began his interrogation, the woman first listening, then looking up to the lintel in contempt of the absurd questions.
“What of his parents?” asked Thucydides of the matron, named Anna.
“They died in a fire, it’s obvious. If you don’t believe me, go down the main street and look at the ruins!” Anna exclaimed, slamming the door in the doctor’s face.
The group moved to another domicile.
“Are you insane?” asked a resident named Octavius Yeshuas, recalling Jesus while looking to the Greek physician, an amused Decius smiling at the remark
“No sir, I am not,” said the doctor, “Jesus of Nazareth was crucified last year in Jerusalem.”
“Who cares, I haven’t seen him for nearly five years. I heard about his execution too, and crucified people usually die don’t they?”
“Yes, but sometimes they rise as vampires,” said Thucydides while a frowning Yeshuas looked to Decius.
“I’m a Roman citizen, do I have to keep answering this idiot?” Yeshuas asked, showing the centurion a silver signet ring on his left hand.
“No you do not citizen,” said Decius, looking to Thucydides and motioning to him with his index finger.
“What?” asked the doctor, turning with arms out.
“That’s the ninth family you’ve bothered in Nazareth; no one here knows about this vampire you call Jesus,” said Decius, looking to the physician with disdain.
“But a woman down the street said that she saw him one night in the rain, just after the town rabbi disappeared.”
“Yes, and the rest of the people say she’s crazy,” Decius retorted as his fellow soldiers laughed in the background, the centurion knowing the woman was probably telling the truth.
“You think this is a joke don’t you?”
“No doctor, we don’t think vampires are real,” said Decius.
“But they are!” Thucydides exclaimed as a frowning Yeshuas closed his door.
“So, where are you going to drag us to next?” Decius asked, folding arms across his chest.
“North to Gennesar, and beyond.”
“Why?”
“It’s said by Herodotus that vampires prefer to move in straight lines, and if he came here he would head north.”
“You have no proof he was even here, are you mad?” asked Decius.
“I don’t need proof, I simply know that Jesus of Nazareth is a vampire,” said the doctor with firm resolve, looking at the well-drawn depiction of the couple.
Dark Resurrection Page 25
