Curse of Stigmata (The Judas Reflections)

by Aiden James

  “Rachel, how in God’s name did you get this, it can’t be?” I asked, stunned to see this item.

  “They threw him from the cross to the ground, I sat by his dead body for hours. Before they took him away, I wrenched off the ring.”

  “What, pray, were you doing at his crucifixion?”

  “I often went to watch them; sometimes there were three or four in a day. I was fascinated with the holes and the blood dripping down their bodies. Having heard of Jesus’s miracles and witnessed his ministry, I was greatly impressed. He brought a fresh message of hope and salvation. Many listened, and acted on his words. Believe it or not, even me.”

  “So why did you as steal anything from his dead body?”

  “Because the opportunity to take a souvenir was there,” she admitted.

  Well, at least I wasn’t the only immortal opportunist. And, compared to Rachel Caillouet, I wasn’t the worst.

  “Don’t be so proud of yourself,” she advised. “Take a look at the engraving along the inside of the ring.”

  “It’s too damaged for me to making any sense of the inscription.”

  “Give it to me.” She held it up to a candle and then motioned for me to join her. “Now… look carefully.”

  The words were still hard to read, but the numbers read ‘21601231’.

  “What do the numbers stand for?”

  “The last day of the world will come in the month of December, on the thirty first day, in the year 2160. I took leave from France to journey through England in the year 1666 when I was guided to an intense young man also named Isaac. I was mad about him, more than he was of me. He would spend hours climbing apple trees throwing them down to the ground needlessly, ‘Look Rachel, this is gravity’ he’d inform me. Of course, it made no sense at all. But his predictions for a world apocalypse did.”

  I presumed she meant he was another one with a theory created from supposed hidden messages in the bible claiming when and where the world would end. “Then I expect he writes rubbish and ramblings, too.” I said.

  “Look at this. Now look at the date on the ring …again.” She handed me a small book titled the Method of Fluxions, an in-depth analysis of calculus. On the forward page was written a personal inscription. To my darling Rachel, I have concluded a date through the prophecies of Daniel and the apocalypse of St. John. Our world will end on the 31st of December 2160, just as Jesus and the bible had predicted. We are all correct, it will come and only then will the bible be fully understood. Be well my darling. I will remain yours always, Isaac Newton.

  I slammed it shut, and with my anger having no bounds, threw it clean across the room. “Why don’t you ask Campala to draw a bath for you with milk to wash away the stink of mud and lies,” I said.

  “Think what you want of me, Judas, I don’t care. But the truth, no matter how painful, always comes out. I admit to stealing from Jesus’s body, and look what I got for my punishment to continue to walk endlessly in a lonely world carrying the curse of Stigmata. I hold tight to this ring for my sins. Redemption may come to you sooner than you think. I have to wait for the end of the world to get mine. I walk with rage, wounding anyone in my path. I hope not to do the same to Juan. He doesn’t deserve it.”

  Considering everything, I determined to procure the first ship to Europe I could find, in order to get far away from what I saw as pure insanity. Between John and his Rosicrucian society, Juan’s mad infatuation and Rachel delusions, I needed to end the nonsense.

  “I must retire, now,” I announced. “It’s very late and I’m fatigued.”

  I’d never killed a woman, even though there had been moments of sheer frustration when I’d considered it. Long ago, life was more barbaric when it came to women. If they frustrated you, they’d be silenced, often for good. I considered myself better educated and in control then and now. I refused to let Rachel get the better of me. Sooner or later, the coin would appear and Juan was more than welcome to her. My mind was made up. At first light, I would leave, even if it meant weeks or months in a lowly inn waiting for a ship to come in or leave, I’d had enough. No sooner had I retired to my room and laid my head down peace was shattered. Not caring to see if I was awake or asleep, John came into the room claiming his business with me was far from over.

  “Will you at least consider the possibilities as a Rosicrucian?” asked John “I know you’ve discussed choosing a permanent life in America with your friend, Roderick Cooley. I can introduce you both to fellow brethren residing in the colony of Virginia.”

  “I’ll consider the matter when I return to Europe,” I said. “If you will prepare a letter of introduction, I will be happy to communicate with them.”

  Obvious as to what he wanted, I was in no hurry to become a pawn in his clandestine society. This wasn’t me. If anything, it suited Juan perfectly, seeing as he was drawn to make spiritual changes in the world. Exhausted from a long day and left alone in peace I slept, though it wasn’t for long.

  “Wake up!” said Juan, sitting on the end of my bed with the sun’s early morning rays filtered through the window.

  “What now?”

  “Why are you running away? No one has asked you to leave, not even Rachel, whom you wanted dead. There are things you two need to talk about, and so do I.”

  “Then talk away my friend, I’m listening.” I sat up, ready to begin my day.

  I listened to his explanation of Rachel’s dishonesty. Love is blind they say and it was never more so in this case. Juan had become blind as a proverbial bat.

  “Enough, Juan!” I advised, after nearly an hour had passed, and I could take no more. “You’re asking me to trust a compulsive thief who hid in the mountains disguised as a peasant girl. God only knows what she’s been doing for thousands of years; her story is confusing and doesn’t make any sense.” I began packing my belongings into the trunk, anxious more than ever to get away.

  “You paint such a dark picture, my friend,” he persisted. “I shall miss you and your sarcasm. I prefer to see out my immortality here with John and Rachel. I’ve joined the Rosicrucians.”

  “If I’m correct, you’ve joined a society of one, Doctor John Dee,” I chided. “I doubt peace will come from his fantasies and yours. Good luck with having children, I expect you’ll be a temperate father.”

  We hugged having formed an uneasy truce. For the rest of the morning, I never saw Rachel. John and Campala had come out to say goodbye. In spite of her shyness, she thanked me profusely for granting her freedom.

  That day promised to be exceedingly warm, with the sun already doing its utmost to burn at such an early hour. I covered my head well as I climbed into the cart.

  “Farewell my dear friend,” I called to Juan, who stood in sad silence watching me leave. “I wish you all the best, and may we meet again someday!”

  nticipating another sweat-ridden journey, I was grateful to reach the dock where I immediately spotted a handsome tall ship. Its name, Vliegende Draeck, the flying dragon, brought music to my ears. Another Dutch vessel of sound repute! I considered it possible to reach a mutually beneficial negotiation between the Captain and myself to bring me safely back to Europe and civilization. But finding him wasn’t easy. No matter how many enquires I made, he was nowhere to be seen. My stomach grumbled hard. For days, I’d existed on small amounts of food and water. It was time to fill my stomach with something good and hot, like spiced Malagasy fish and rice.

  “Mister, you’ll have the fire in the belly if you eat this fish,” a pretty young local girl attempted to warn me off what she was cooking over the fire. It smelled delicious, spices mixed with the sweet smell of the Indian Ocean. A heavenly concoction.

  “I’m accustomed to hot foods, so serve me the fish with double the spice,” I replied.

  I was encouraged to sit under a small shady table provided only for paying customers. The locals who lingered there were shooed away. Past caring about the heat that day, I dived into the fiery concoction, savoring every mouthfu
l to the last bite. Meanwhile, the dock had become a hive of activity, swarming mostly with pirates drinking rum and generally making merry, while they waited to set sail for home or the infamous Cape of Good Hope.

  Robert had informed me of everything I needed to know about their shenanigans. About how they’d lie in wait often for days, ready to attack unsuspecting ships coming around the Cape.

  “Like lambs to slaughter, one ship after the other falls straight into their fiendish traps.” he told me.

  The local girl continued to do good business with her simple dishes, even amongst drunken pirates.

  “Well, if it isn’t the man who took off my little finger.”

  I looked up to see Captain Chivers standing so close I could smell his rancid breath.

  “I thought you’d set sail?” I asked, wary of his presence.

  “We hoist anchor the day after tomorrow. Are you looking for a passage back to Europe? There’s cabin space,” he remarked noticing my trunks sitting forlorn by my side. I was effectively homeless.

  “I’m not leaving for the moment,” I lied.

  “I’ve had many a sword fight in my time, but yours was the most fun. What a tale to tell, eh? Drunk in charge of a cutlass and all over a mere slip of a girl. I’ve never been taken for a fool until I met her and lost the tip of my finger to boot. A permanent reminder.”

  It was barely noon and he was roaring drunk, probably still trying to get Rachel out of his system. He plopped down in the chair next to me and ordered the fish still complaining about how she’d wronged him. I did my best to excuse myself, explaining I needed to secure lodgings in a decent inn. But then after a swig or two of his strong rum I began to entertain the offer. How enticing it would be to return to Europe with Captain Chivers?

  Unlike the rigid rules of a traditional ship, the lawless debauched behavior aboard a pirate ship was much more of an adventure. Truly, I needed to make the right choice and find the Captain of the legal Dutch ship. However, once I secured lodgings for the night, irresponsible thinking got the better of me. I sent message to Captain Chivers advising him I’d be coming aboard with the finest bottle of vintage rum and a handsome sum for my passage. The day passed into night. I could do no more but to console myself with generous amounts of imported Spanish wine with a nameless girl who told me she was Portuguese and lonely. A perfect distraction for my troubled thoughts. I took her to my room where we talked until I fell into a drunken sleep awaking at dawn to find her gone. I panicked, thinking I had surely been robbed. Fortunately, the coin remained hidden on my person, everything else I owned was easy pickings. Fortunately, the only things she helped herself to were a bottle of wine and half a bottle of rum. I breathed a sigh of relief, falling back into a much-needed sleep. Hours later, an intrusion woke me with a start. I’d stupidly forgotten to lock the door.

  “Judas?” Rachel was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing bright African colors and yet she carried a solemn air in her demeanor.

  “It looks like you had an interesting night,” she remarked, holding a cheap necklace clearly not belonging to me.

  “What kind of hellishness is this? What do you want from me?” I murmured.

  “Well, I need to explain something before you leave. I know you don’t like unfinished business, so I will oblige if you let me.”

  I had not laid one finger on the girl in spite of being pushed to do so a hundred times or more. Even now, knowing she was immortal made no difference to an honest confession. I did little to save her from the swamp or, the wrath of Captain Chivers. It would, I think, be a better world for me if there were no women in it; they were becoming a painful appendage.

  “I had a night of wine drinking,” I replied, as politely as possible. “You have come unannounced into my room and woken me from a deep slumber to talk about unfinished business, copied words of John Dee no doubt. What you have to say better be worthwhile.”

  She fell back onto the bed, and much to my discomfort, slowly slid herself next to me.

  “What about Juan?” I asked, wondering what her intentions were.

  “Don’t think of the obvious, I’ve no interest in your body, although I have to say it’s very desirable, as are your deep blue eyes.”

  “What do you want from me Rachel? I’m leaving tomorrow, can I please have this day in peace?”

  “From the moment I saw you, I knew it would change everything. I was tired of drifting and found my way to Paris where I met a rich merchant thirty years my senior. He would tell me how much he loved me and showered me with jewels. His name was Bertrand Fournier. Having heard of a rich European traveler of Spanish and Arabic origin named Emmanuel Ortiz who paid vast sums for the rarest coins he began searching and found your coins. But, I couldn’t let Bertie sell them to anyone so I killed him by poison.”

  “I don’t understand why my coins would carry such importance to you, enough to kill your husband. What did he ever do to you to deserve such a fate? Tell me, Rachel, were you born evil or did you become this way?”

  “The coins are not important. You are. It is the game of death I desire, the thought of you coming after them firing up my senses. I hoped and prayed your people would trace the coins to my next abode in the mountains, and it worked. You came. I desire to be caught and burnt to a cinder, even though it won’t end my immortality. I don’t understand why, when I’ve committed a bad act, I have second thoughts and run away. With money, your coins and plenty of jewels in my possession, I escaped Paris and fled to the mountains where I met Isaac and spun him a sad story. How I was tracked… the rest is irrelevant, like how many others I’ve killed.”

  Rachel was an immortal with a death wish so strong she’d resort to killing in the misguided hope of ending her suffering. But she failed to see no matter what she did, her time on earth was set. Maybe now, in Madagascar with Juan, and with John’s spiritual guidance she’d calm her evil ways and settle down.

  “Please don’t harm anybody else,” I beseeched her. “It’s futile. Look at what you’ve caused so far, wasting lives and getting nowhere.”

  I’d heard about how aggressive and cold-blooded the early Judaeans were. Rachel had changed very little. She was, I concluded, a natural born killer and if Juan were mortal, I’d worry. Perhaps, in spite of the dysfunctions between them, it was a good match after all.

  “Here,” she said, putting her hand between her breasts and pulling out a small envelope. “Open it now, what’s in there is important.”

  I couldn’t feel any coins, but curious, I tore it open to reveal two letters, one written in French and the other in Spanish.

  Rachel had confessed in writing to the murder of Isaac, explaining I had admitted to the crime to save her soul. She demanded I was to be exonerated. She also confessed to the murder of her husband Bertrand and another. An artist in Paris called Pierre who refused to paint her portrait after she allowed him to bed her. Both letters were signed and dated.

  “This is a very decent thing to do. It means I can go back without worry. Even Dario will have to take your confession as sound.”

  Before I could stop her, she leaned over and kissed me firmly on the mouth. It didn’t go any further; using all my willpower, I pushed her roughly away.

  “No. I won’t make love with you and dishonor a worthy friend.” I surprised myself with such a comment coming from a man without morals when it came to bedding women. Whether I loved or hated them and even when their husbands were asleep in the next room, I was unfazed, until now.

  What in God’s name was happening to me?

  “Well, well, you’ve become quite the gentleman. I can only imagine the passion we would ignite together with so much hatred between us. Instead, I will be nice. The game is over Judas… here’s the other coin,” she said, dropping the glowing coin slowly into my hand as she smiled sweetly.

  Immediately, the powerful tingling that would be followed by reliving my ultimate betrayal commenced. I forced myself to deposit the coin into a pocket in my tr
ousers.

  “Why now, Rachel? Why put me through so much misery and how it is possible I never sensed the coin with you this morning?”

  “Don’t ask me why, maybe you’re too full of wine still. I told you the game is over and it is. For over a thousand years I’ve been trying to change… it’s difficult. As you said to me countless times, once a thief always a thief, and of course in my case a murderer and liar. I’ve sinned in the eyes of God many times, pretending to be Christian, Muslim, Catholic, and even a Pagan. When I met you, I wanted you to be the one who would help me. Instead, I’ve helped you to learn how important it is to be honorable.”

  “What of the stigmata, was it trickery?”

  “No, It began soon after my crucifixion and will remain my penance.”

  With another light kiss on the lips, she was gone, leaving me with a precious coin and I couldn’t be happier. To celebrate, I enjoyed an early breakfast and a small whisky to dull the shock. The inn was already full of hungry pirates including Captain Chivers.

  “We set sail tomorrow at eight in the morning, sharp,” he instructed. “Get someone to load your trunk, don’t forget the rum you promised and adequate funds.”

  It was typical of greedy pirates to charge large amounts for travel expenses and expect you to supply extras, like rum.

  “Of course Captain, you can count on me,” I replied, knowing the only thing on my mind was to set sail for Europe and home. I wanted to put Madagascar and all what happened behind me.

  “We’ll be making a small detour around the Cape, something I need to pick up beforehand. Then, we set sail for Europe after a few other stops.”

  I knew exactly what he meant. They were not finished pillaging and plundering a ship or two and my time spent on board would be longer than the journey here. If I had any sense I would find another ship, its bow pointed straight for home. But I preferred the exhilaration of witnessing a great sea battle, with the roar of cannon fire ringing in my ears, even if it did deafen most around me.