BARNABAS. Go back, strike the camp, wait for us.
They hesitate.
Go!
1ST GUARD. Water.
He hands BARNABAS a skin of water.
BARNABAS. Thank you. Just . . . go back now.
They exit.
Saul . . .
PAUL. No one here called that.
BARNABAS. What happened?
PAUL. What happened to Saul? A mystery, a mystery.
BARNABAS. Is this your illness?
PAUL. Are you Barnabas?
BARNABAS. Yes of course.
PAUL. Barnabas, he blinded me.
BARNABAS. What do you mean? Who blinded you?
PAUL He did! The Lord!
BARNABAS. Let’s get you back to the men. I’ll tell them it’s nothing, you’re ill, you have food poisoning . . .
PAUL laughs.
PAUL. God’s son has told me the world is about to end and you put it down to food poisoning?
BARNABAS. Saul, please . . .
PAUL. No. I must go on to Damascus. Alone. On my knees in the dust. In darkness. Destroyed.
BARNABAS. But the campaign, the arrests of Yeshua’s followers . . .
PAUL. Can I arrest myself? Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll crawl in chains to Ananias to ask his forgiveness . . .
BARNABAS. You can’t just abandon what we set out to do . . .
PAUL. I am fulfilling what we set out to do!
BARNABAS. You’re making no sense . . .
PAUL. I saw Him. Yeshua.
A beat.
BARNABAS. Saul . . .
PAUL. Paul. Paul. That’s my name now. Yeshua gave me a new name. Say my name. If you have any love for me, any trust in me, say my name!
BARNABAS. Stop this madness! Stop it now!
PAUL. I must be made anew. I will be. But first my name. I beg you, say it. Paul.
BARNABAS. I won’t be part of your insanity . . .
PAUL. Paul! Say it, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul!
A beat.
BARNABAS. Paul.
PAUL, far away, to himself.
PAUL. No. No no no. The name means nothing. I no longer exist. I am crossed out. Crossed out! Has He played a joke on me? Has the shadow of the cross He died on crossed me out? That’s it. That’s what’s been done to me.
To BARNABAS.
Help me get to Damascus.
BARNABAS. I can’t desert my post because you’ve had some kind of . . . fit.
PAUL. Then I’ll go alone. Give me some water.
BARNABAS. I can’t let you do this!
PAUL. But you will.
BARNABAS. You can’t see!
PAUL. He will lead me.
BARNABAS. The rich man’s son dabbles in religion and this is what you get! So righteous, so fanatical for the Temple, leading men into the desert then . . . all is changed!
PAUL. You’re right, it is changed.
BARNABAS. Well, good good, how wonderful. Let’s all have visions, but no! Not all of us can. You have to have money to have visions, you can’t afford them on soldier’s pay, they’ll lose you your job. Saul, visions were for the prophets in the old times. Not us. And I must remind you that this is a military operation. We have the names of people to arrest and take back to Jerusalem for trial! This is life and death!
PAUL. Oh yes, yes it is that . . . Barnabas, I have no strength, no mind, I’m helpless, like a newborn baby. You’ve believed in me. Help me.
BARNABAS sighs. A beat, after all he has said.
BARNABAS. I’ll send the men back to Jerusalem. I’ll say . . . we’ve new plans . . . you and I are going to the city as spies.
PAUL. Take me to the gates and leave me there. That’s all I ask.
BARNABAS. I can’t leave you blind before a dangerous city . . .
PAUL. He will lead.
BARNABAS. ‘He will lead.’
He sighs.
You sound like one of them, do you know that? A Yeshua fanatic.
PAUL. No, I’m not one of them, I’m not worthy of that.
BARNABAS starts.
BARNABAS. Did you hear something?
PAUL. No . . .
BARNABAS. I thought I heard someone shout.
PAUL. Shout what?
BARNABAS. Doesn’t matter. Wait here. I’ll go and tell the men. Water.
He gives the blind PAUL the skin of water.
PAUL alone, staring out, sightless.
In the far distance, very faintly, voices can just be heard.
VOICES. Yeshua! Yeshua! Yeshua! Yeshua!
A silence.
Lights down.
Scene Four
Arabia, AD 39. PAUL sits before a tent. There are bundles of tent cloth – samples. He is sewing.
There is a pile of provisions, amongst them a bucket of water, a skin of wine, bread.
An ARAB approaches, an air of wealth and status about him. Two ARMED MEN behind him keep a respectful distance.
PAUL stands.
ARAB. You’re the Jewish tent maker.
PAUL. Yes.
ARAB. I am Abraham, son of Feisel of Medina. I trade in Eastern spices.
PAUL. Your good repute goes before you, Abraham, son of Feisel. What can I offer you, bread, honey, wine . . .
ARAB. No no, not before a sale. If there is a sale. No offence.
Both are amused.
PAUL. None taken. How can I help you?
ARAB. My trade makes it necessary to go to India later in the year. Because I can’t be in my winter quarters I need a tent that can stand rain, snow.
PAUL. I have a special cloth. Here.
PAUL pulls out a roll of dark cloth.
Touch.
He touches it.
ARAB. Slippery.
PAUL. The cloth is very finely woven, then rubbed with beeswax.
ARAB. By the hands of virgins, seven times?
PAUL. If I said it were, would that increase the price you’d pay?
ARAB. Don’t you claim magic for such a cloth?
PAUL. Just skill. I can make the tent with leather flashings, to stop water getting into the seams.
ARAB. Excellent.
PAUL. The flashings will add to the price.
ARAB. Ah we come to the price.
PAUL. The fair price.
The ARAB laughs. They barter at great speed, trying to slap each other’s hands.
ARAB. Four Egyptian measures of gold? Or would you prefer Roman coinage?
PAUL. Gold.
ARAB. Then four . . .
PAUL. Ten.
ARAB. Five.
PAUL. Nine.
ARAB. Six.
PAUL. Seven.
ARAB. Six and a quarter.
PAUL. Six and three quarters.
ARAB. Six and a half. With the leather flashings.
A moment. Then they hit each other’s hands.
PAUL. It will be ready in three weeks.
ARAB. Good good.
PAUL. Now something to eat, drink?
ARAB. Perhaps a little wine.
PAUL pouring wine into a cup from a wineskin.
PAUL. It’s from Lebanon.
ARAB. Ah Lebanon, the cedar wood. We make boxes from it, for wealthy Roman women. To keep their love letters in. Or their poisons.
He laughs.
PAUL offers wine.
PAUL. For your men . . .?
ARAB. No, they’re slaves.
A beat. The ARAB stares at PAUL, interested in him.
What is your name?
PAUL. Paul.
ARAB. But that’s not a Hebrew name, it’s Greek.
PAUL. It was given me by my master.
ARAB. So you were a slave?
PAUL looks at him.
What, you ran away from your master, to hide in Arabia?
PAUL. In a manner of speaking.
The ARAB is amused.
ARAB. A runaway Jewish slave with a Greek name. What strange creatures hide in our deserts. Be careful of our demons, they can be cruel to foreigners.
PAUL. They hold no fear for me.
ARAB. Ah the Jewish God living in that huge Jerusalem Temple. You think he will protect you against our desert gods and goblins?
PAUL. No. But his son will.
ARAB. Son? But you Jews are ‘one godders’, aren’t you?
PAUL. It’s a mystery.
A beat.
ARAB. Forgive me, brother, let’s keep our relationship strictly commercial. I hear people get killed in Judea because of religious arguments. All I want is a tent, not a new god.
PAUL. Thank you for your custom.
The ARAB drains the cup and hands it back.
ARAB. In three weeks.
PAUL bows. The ARAB turns and goes, followed by his MEN. PAUL sits again.
Enter BARNABAS, a distance away.
A silence. Then PAUL looks up and sees him. BARNABAS approaches.
PAUL. How did you find me?
BARNABAS. You thought a Jewish tent maker wouldn’t be noticed in Arabia?
A beat.
Then PAUL stands and they embrace.
PAUL. Are you still a captain of the Temple Guard?
BARNABAS. No. I lost my enthusiasm for religious soldiering.
PAUL. Please, wine, some honey . . .
BARNABAS. Thank you.
PAUL hands a loaf to BARNABAS and a wineskin. He begins to unwrap something that is wrapped in leaves.
PAUL. Here, a honeycomb, wrapped in young date palms, they’re hugely expensive. A Bedu prince gave me a whole box as a gift.
BARNABAS. You’re successful.
PAUL. My father’s trade. I’ve always loved it. So . . . What do you do now?
BARNABAS. I dig ditches.
PAUL. Yes?
BARNABAS is amused.
BARNABAS. That look’s the rich man’s son in you . . .
PAUL. No no. But you were a fine soldier.
BARNABAS. Well, now I dig irrigation ditches for vineyards. It’s quite tricky.
PAUL. Yes.
BARNABAS. You’re not going to ask me.
PAUL. It’s for you to say.
BARNABAS. I left the Temple’s service because I couldn’t forget Damascus. I still can’t.
A beat.
PAUL. Nor can I. Barnabas . . .
BARNABAS. I can’t talk about this.
PAUL smiles.
PAUL. You’ve come all this way not to talk?
BARNABAS. It’s that . . . that in Damascus I couldn’t forgive myself for leaving you. Blind and raving, in a dark street, in a foreign city . . .
PAUL. And two years later here you are, come to apologise?
BARNABAS. I felt bad about it, abandoning you.
PAUL. You say ‘raving’. Was I?
BARNABAS. I thought so at the time.
PAUL. And now?
A beat.
There’s really no need to feel bad. You left me at the door of Ananias’s house, where I’d been told to go.
BARNABAS. By Yeshua.
PAUL. By Jesus.
BARNABAS. By . . .
PAUL. His name in Latin, rather than Aramaic. It’s better. Or in Greek, Christos. Christ.
BARNABAS. Christos, meaning the chosen . . .
PAUL. The Messiah. The world will understand the name ‘Jesus’ better, when I begin my mission.
BARNABAS. Your mission.
PAUL smiles.
PAUL. Now that you’re here I think it’s about to begin, my dear Barnabas.
BARNABAS. So Ananias . . .
PAUL. He was very frightened but he took me in.
BARNABAS. I thought he’d kill you.
PAUL. In a way, he did. He baptised me.
BARNABAS. That’s one of their rites, yes?
PAUL is sharp.
PAUL. It’s not a rite. It’s something you say, I say, from my heart. You don’t come to know Jesus through rites.
BARNABAS is wrongfooted. He finds it difficult to deal with the changes in SAUL/PAUL.
After three days my sight was restored. But they feared the Temple would send a squad from Jerusalem to find me, so they smuggled me out of the city.
Smiles.
Lowered me over the wall in a basket.
BARNABAS. They wanted to come to find you, but I talked them out of it.
PAUL. How did you do that?
BARNABAS. I told them you’d gone mad as well as blind.
PAUL is amused.
PAUL. Ah.
A beat.
And in Jerusalem, what of . . .
BARNABAS. Of the Yeshua people? They’ve gone quiet. These days they seem to have lost all their fervour. They keep themselves to themselves. It’s like all these cults: the leader dies and the energy goes. A few followers keep up obscure rituals in secret, then it all fades away. Our campaign to persecute them was probably pointless. Now they lock their doors and worship their Yeshua or whatever you want to call Him.
PAUL. Why are you so bitter?
BARNABAS. I . . .
PAUL. You want to believe in Him.
BARNABAS cannot reply.
It’s growing in your soul . . .
BARNABAS. Oh this Pharisee talk of the soul . . .
PAUL. You can feel it. You can hardly breathe because of it.
BARNABAS. It’s that . . . if a man like you can be so changed by a dead man . . .
PAUL. He’s not dead, Barnabas! Not dead.
BARNABAS. I can’t accept I . . .
PAUL. He said to me: ‘Why do you kick against the truth?’
BARNABAS. No.
PAUL. He’s saying it to you. You can hear Him.
BARNABAS. No.
PAUL. Barnabas, why do you kick against the truth?
BARNABAS. Perhaps . . . if you baptised me . . . I’d believe in Him.
PAUL is being very gentle.
PAUL. No no no no, my dear friend. Wrong way round. Faith is first.
BARNABAS. But everyone in the Yeshua community is baptised.
PAUL. Oh yes.
BARNABAS. But I can’t get baptised unless I have faith.
PAUL. It would be meaningless.
BARNABAS. So how do I get ‘faith’? What is it? A feeling? A fever? A what?
PAUL. Can you say this? ‘I believe Christ died for our sins. He was buried. On the third day He was raised to life.’
BARNABAS. ‘I believe Christ died for our sins He was buried on the third day . . .’
PAUL. No no no no no! You’re just mouthing, not believing, like a merchant chanting in a temple of Apollo hoping for good trade, like a girl kneeling before Diana wanting a husband. You can’t buy faith!
BARNABAS. I don’t understand!
PAUL. You do!
BARNABAS. Just throw the water over me and say the words!
PAUL. Don’t do this lightly. Do this lightly and God will condemn you, along with all of the unbelieving world.
A beat.
Is He in your heart?
BARNBABAS. Yes. I think. Yes! Why do you think I’m here?
A beat.
PAUL. Kneel down.
He picks up a bucket of water.
Say: ‘Christ is Lord.’
BARNABAS. Are you going to throw that over me?
PAUL. If there was a river I’d throw you in it. So I’m making do.
Amusement. BARNABAS kneels.
BARNABAS. ‘Christ is Lord.’
PAUL. Say: ‘I belong to Christ.’
BARNABAS. ‘I belong to Christ.’
PAUL. Then I baptise you in the name of Jesus.
He pours the bucket of water over BARNABAS. He splutters, he laughs.
PAUL grasps BARNABAS’s hands and pulls him up.
There is a ritual.
BARNABAS. I knew it!
PAUL. No, it’s nothing like a Roman ritual or a ritual of the Temple. It gains you nothing. It’s in memory of Jesus. Ananias taught it to me in Damascus.
He lifts the half-eaten loaf of bread.
On the night that Jesus was betrayed He was with His followers. Th
ey were having a meal. He took some bread, gave thanks and divided it.
PAUL pulls some of the bread from the loaf.
He said, ‘Eat this, this is my body, which is for you, do this in memory of me.’
He hands the piece of bread to BARNABAS. He eats it, slowly. PAUL takes a piece and eats it.
PAUL lifts the wineskin.
And after the meal He lifted a cup of wine and said, ‘This is the new covenant in my blood. Drink it in memory of me.’
He hands BARNABAS the wineskin, he drinks from it. Then PAUL drinks from it.
They look at each other.
BARNABAS. Bread and wine. That’s where the baby-eating, blood-drinking stories come from.
PAUL. Yes.
BARNABAS. What . . .
Tries to laugh.
What do I do now?
PAUL. Go back to Jerusalem with me. I must see Jesus’s brother. I’ll finish the jobs I’ve got and we’ll go. No time to lose! It’s been revealed to me, you see. The Kingdom of God Jesus preached? It’s coming.
BARNABAS. ‘The Kingdom of God’ – that’s what we were trying to stop!
PAUL. But now I know what it means. Barnabas, Jesus is coming back to us, any day, any moment. The Kingdom of God doesn’t mean a revolt against the Romans. It means the end of the world.
PAUL leaves the scene and returns to the prison.
Scene Five
Rome, AD 65. Prison.
PAUL. The questions, who was that? Young woman. Clever. From Corinth. So much trouble in Corinth, three visits. The letters. Yes, she said: ‘If the world is about to end, why are people dying amongst us?’ Answer? Easy. They will rise with Him. On the last day. Which can come . . . now. Before I . . . before I clap my hands!
A beat.
He claps his hands. He waits. He claps them again. He waits. He claps his hands. Then he falls to his knees and prays.
Dear Lord, your servant waits.
The loud noise of a heavy door opening.
Two GAOLERS drag PETER in. He struggles. PETER is a big man. They wrestle him down to the ground and fix chains on his legs.
PETER shouts at them. Accent: he is not an educated man.
PETER. Get off me, I’m not fighting you . . . get off me, Kiddam bastards!
1ST GAOLER. What? What are we?
Kicks PETER. He howls.
What are we?
2ND GAOLER. Christian filth . . .
1ST GAOLER, kicking him again.
1ST GAOLER. What are we, baby killer?
PETER. You are lost sheep. With shit hanging out your arses!
2ND GAOLER. What? What did you say?
PAUL. For mercy’s sake leave him alone!
1ST GAOLER. Oh mercy mercy’s sake . . .
He kicks PAUL.
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