Dark Resurrection

by Frederick Preston

  Chapter Nine: Parting for Rome

  Callicles arrived in early September, nearly two weeks before Jesus expected him.

  Spotting the caravan heading east one evening while flying overhead, Jesus and Mary returned from their depredations on local criminals. Assuming human form, they strolled to the porch from the shadows, where his father was drinking wine with Ganymede and Icarus.

  “Good evening father,” said Jesus, walking up the stairs, the Magdalene nodding to Joseph and continuing into the house to visit Mary and Ruth.

  “Good evening son, care for wine?”

  “Certainly, and I have news, Callicles will be in town tomorrow.”

  “Isn’t he a bit early?” asked Joseph, handing him a bottle.

  “My thoughts exactly, but no matter, the granary’s half full, and since the fall harvest is coming in we should get rid of last year’s excess. Further, we have meat and hides to sell too,” said Jesus, taking a deep drink of wine.

  “He comes to town to make money from us and we end up making money from him,” a smiling Joseph observed, handing his bottle to Icarus.

  “Don’t worry,” said Jesus, raising his bottle, “He buys from many along the way, and the way we’re consuming his wine, I’m sure he’ll make at a thousand denarii from us on that alone.”

  Joseph laughed and replied, “That’s the truth!”

  Sitting down next to his father, Jesus said, “Perhaps Callicles would be interested in our other wares, for instance, the extra shoes and cloaks the women made during the summer.”

  “They’re still making them,” said Ganymede.

  “Really?”

  “Electra surmised that you may wish to sell them and figured with nothing else to do at times, she and Penelope would put the extra leather to good use.”

  “I want to reward them for that,” Jesus replied.

  “Just being here seems to be reward enough for us,” declared a smiling Icarus, “Aside from planting and harvest time our duties are light, our quarters are spacious, warm and dry, we eat like kings, and you generally let us do whatever we want.”

  “And all of you serve us well, thank you,” said Jesus.

  “Our pleasure sir,” Icarus replied.

  “How long do you think he’ll be in town son?” asked Joseph.

  “A week or so, only in spring does he stay longer,” Jesus answered, looking to the rising moon.

  “It’s getting late,” said a drunk Ganymede, leaning heavily on the porch rail, “I’ll have to be getting back.”

  “So do I,” Icarus added, rising from his seat, “I have to run the forge all day tomorrow.”

  “What are you making?” asked Jesus.

  “A plow adapter for the horses you acquired a while back,” Icarus replied, heading down the stairs, “They’re so tall that the oxen adapter won’t work properly, it raises the blades too high.”

  “That’s a good idea, thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me, Brutus suggested I do it.”

  “Thank him for me,” Jesus called, the slaves heading unsteadily to the slave quarters. “So, how do you like this life dad?”

  “It’s not bad,” said Joseph with a satisfied sigh.

  “Not bad, you’re starting to sound like me.”

  “No, you sound like me, after all, I’m your father.”

  “I guess,” said Jesus, opening another bottle.

  The caravan pulled into town in the late afternoon, Callicles strolling to Gavinal’s to get drunk while his slaves set up the caravansary. Not that he needed much help that day, he was already drunk when he arrived, and needed just that extra splash of fine Gallic wine to make him feel more like himself. Unsteadily heading to Gavinal’s compound, Callicles greeted the guard as he let him in, and proceeded to the prefect’s office.

  “Friend Callicles!” Gavinal exclaimed, rising from his desk littered with paperwork and putting out his hand, the trader walking in through the open door.

  “Greetings Gavinal,” replied Callicles, giving him a firm Roman handshake.

  “You’re here early,” said Gavinal, reaching for wine.

  “Stock was easy to obtain as the weather has been fine this summer. Would you believe the docks at Chrysopolis and Nicomedia are filled to overflowing?”

  “Really,” replied Gavinal, pouring goblets, “I suppose prices on your items have fallen.”

  “My yes, even finished goods are cheap this year, a bundle of terracotta roof tiles are only 15 denarii, a bag of lime whitewash is three, lime plaster is five, and glass windows of two types are 28 denarii a piece.”

  “I’ll take six windows for my slave quarters, what do you have that’s new?”

  “Lots of things, Gallic beer, tools made in Illyria, and little brown seeds for a type of root plant that taste hot on the tongue; I think they’re called radishes.”

  “Gallic beer?” Gavinal asked, having forgotten the remainder of Callicles’ peroration.

  “You’ll have to try some friend, it’s delicious and nearly as strong as Gallic wine,” Callicles said with a wide grin.

  “Excellent,” replied Gavinal, putting away his loathsome paperwork for another day. Both enjoyed libations, the trader downing two bottles in a little over an hour and a half. At dusk, Jesus walked through the door with his father.

  “If it isn’t Julius Chrysippus and son,” said a slurring Callicles.

  “Greetings Julius the younger, how’s your family?” asked Gavinal.

  “They’re quite well, thank you,” said Jesus.

  “How’s the baby?” asked Callicles, turning to them.

  “Julian’s fine,” Joseph replied, “Almost nine months old, and already trying to walk and speak.”

  “He’s a precocious tyke,” said Gavinal, reaching for another bottle, “So, what brings you two here this fine evening, and would you like wine?”

  “We certainly would, thank you kind Gavinal. We heard Callicles had arrived, and came from the caravansary when his nephew told us he was here,” Jesus answered.

  “I’m letting Demo run more of the show lately, it gives him experience in the craft of trading, and gives me more time to relax and get drunk with folks like you,” Callicles slurred, Gavinal handing Jesus and Joseph goblets.

  “Indeed,” said Jesus, looking to the red-faced trader, “We came by to see if you were interested in more grain, along with meat and hides.”

  “Sure,” Callicles replied, “Good meat’s always hard to come by. As for grain, I’ll take some but prices are much lower this year due to bumper crops coming in all over this part of the empire.”

  “I know,” Joseph observed, “There’s so much coming in we don’t know what to do with it.”

  “I bought as much as I could for the garrison,” said Gavinal, looking to Joseph.

  “So that’s why you don’t buy my grain anymore,” Callicles retorted with a sly grin, belching after he finished the sentence. He shook his head in an attempt to sober up a bit.

  “Not that yours is of any less quality, they’re much closer,” said Gavinal.

  “Of course, I don’t care,” replied Callicles, pouring another goblet and downing it quickly. “You have hides?” he added, looking to Jesus.

  “Many, the slaves have been preparing them after our hunts,” said Jesus.

  “Tanned?”

  “Yes, nearly a hundred are ready.”

  “I’m definitely interested in those, I’ll come by in a few days to have a look at them. Incidentally, do you folks need anything?”

  “Several things, items for the house, tools, wine, you know, the usual,” Joseph replied.

  “Good, we’ll fix you up tomorrow, I’d best return to my market. Demo’s bright, but he needs me to show him the finer points,” said Callicles, rising unsteadily from his chair. “I’ll see yo
u later.” He headed through the open door, weaving as he went.

  “Callicles drinks too damn much even by my standards,” said Joseph.

  “And I’ll bet it’ll kill him one day,” Gavinal replied.

  “His nephew’s headed in the same direction,” Jesus observed.

  “It’s said his father Callicles the elder was the same way,” said Gavinal, “He died around twenty years ago, about ten years after Tibernum was founded. At the time it was only a garrison and was a long time before I arrived here.”

  “His father was a drunk?” asked Joseph.

  “Yes, heavy drinking seems to run in their family.”

  “Does he have children?” asked Jesus.

  “Not that I know of, but he has a wife somewhere in Greece, I guess he’ll leave the business to his nephew when he dies.”

  “At least she’s a wealthy woman,” said Joseph.

  “I reckon,” replied Gavinal, leaning back in his chair and looking to the open door. Jesus and his father spent several hours drinking wine and conversing with the prefect, over such subjects as meat and grain production, property taxes, women, wine and the emperor’s health.

  “It’s amazing he’s still alive, the courier said he had another stroke a month ago,” Gavinal remarked, quite drunk.

  “What have his physicians said?” asked Jesus.

  “That it’s due to his age.”

  “Young Caligula’s first in line for the throne?”

  “It’s said so, rumor has it that he’s a very bright young man, and a good and fair administrator.”

  “What the empire needs,” said Joseph, “A capable man who can fill Tiberius’ shoes.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Gavinal answered, lifting his glass, “To Rome!”

  “To Rome,” said Jesus, raising his glass and toasting the Eternal City with Gavinal and his father.

  Leaving Gavinal’s near midnight, they headed to the farm, arriving an hour later. Explaining along the way that he and Mary were thinking about leaving before winter set in, Joseph replied, “I’d leave in the spring, you of all people know how cold it gets in Rome during the winter.”

  “Yes, but cold weather doesn’t seem to bother Mary or I now.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Joseph, stepping to the porch, the Magdalene relaxing in a chair.

  “You don’t mind father?”

  Joseph turned and answered, “Look son, I can’t stop you from leaving, I never could when you were alive. It’s your nature to be a wanderer, vampire or not, and you evidently need this – to tour the world in search of truth, adventure, and now blood. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine with Ganymede and Brutus. I know how to handle the farm, so you may leave whenever you wish.”

  “Thank you father.”

  “For what?”

  “For understanding.”

  “Yeah, and don’t forget to take care of the problem in Rome,” Joseph retorted, slamming the door to the house and heading for bed.

  “Yes father,” Jesus answered to the closed door.

  “Hello Jesus,” said the Magdalene from her repose in the chair.

  “Good evening Mary.”

  “You took off before I woke up, where did you go?”

  “To Gavinal’s, Callicles was there.”

  “Does he want to buy the stuff?”

  “Yes, but the price of grain is low, so we’ll have to make it up on the meat and hides.”

  “Did you offer him the shoes and cloaks?”

  “I forgot, Callicles was pretty drunk anyway,” said Jesus, taking a seat beside her.

  “I suppose you got drunk too,” Mary replied.

  “Not really, dad did, it takes a lot of wine to get me going nowadays.”

  “True, have you eaten my love?”

  “You’ve a lot of questions tonight don’t you?” asked a smiling Jesus, looking to Mary and breaking into a laugh.

  “I was just wondering,” Mary replied, feeling a little hurt by the remark.

  “No I haven’t eaten, let’s enjoy the night together,” said Jesus, rising from his seat and taking her hand in his.

  “I imagine we’ll be staying close to home tonight,” Mary observed, walking from the farm.

  “Not necessarily woman, let’s head to the west road.”

  They transformed and flew in the direction of the highway to Nicomedia. Finding suitable fare proved easy that evening, the garbage of humanity appearing only a short time later in the center of the highway, only to be mercilessly slaughtered for their efforts by predators Jesus Christ and his beautiful consort Mary the Magdalene.

  “These bastards barely had an aureus between them,” Jesus spat, finished looting the corpses lying on the stone paved highway.

  “They had plenty of blood,” said Mary, making certain her lips were wiped clean with a cloth.

  “They did at that,” Jesus replied, heaving the remains into a stand of cedar trees. One bounced off a tree trunk, tearing a leg off, hungry jackals almost immediately devouring the bodies. Dropping coins in a tunic pocket, they transformed and flew back, making their way to their room and falling into slumber.