by Tom Pollack
“He must not be much of a god. We Romans are only the latest of many to have conquered them.”
“What if I told you that it was the son of the Hebrew God who healed you? And that he is healing me as well?”
Quintus looked puzzled. “How do you know this?”
“I have met him twice in Judaea, but I did not know who he was then. He said his name was Jesus. The last time I saw him, this man proclaimed to me that your health had been restored, and when I returned to you, I learned that you had been healed that very day!”
“A man? I don’t understand,” Quintus said.
“Nor do I. For some reason I cannot fathom, the Hebrew God sent his son into the world as a human being.”
The boy looked at his father in awe. “Will we meet him when we get to Judaea, father?”
“I must meet him, for I need more than just physical healing, Quintus. Before you were born, I committed many evils. Now, I will seek out Jesus and ask for my soul to be cured.”
“Father, you are not evil. You have always been kind to me. Years ago, many of the children in the neighborhood said you would abandon me in the forest to be eaten by wolves as I grew sicker. It is the Roman way to get rid of the weak, but I always had faith that you would not do that. I know you would never abandon someone you love.”
Cain stared at his son, speechless. “If only he knew…” he thought.
After an awkward silence, he managed, “All I can tell you, son, is that the older one gets, the sicker one’s soul can become. I believe only Jesus can help me.”
Quintus nodded and said, “If he healed me, Father, he will heal you without fail.”
Cain reached for his son, who melted into his father’s embrace.
CHAPTER 66
Jerusalem, April, AD 33
THE AMPHORA DROPPED TO the deck and shattered with a crash. The crew member who had been holding it scarcely seemed to notice the broken shards of pottery around his feet, so intently was he staring at Cain.
It was the morning of Friday, April 3, and the Nostos had just docked in Caesarea. With no time to offer an explanation for his full and miraculous recovery to his stunned crew, Cain issued crisp orders for two transport chariots to be brought from the ship’s hold and hitched to teams of horses. He directed two of his Roman guards to accompany him, telling Quintus to remain on the Nostos and await him there. Although he was disappointed, Quintus abided by his father’s decision.
Cain first rode to the port’s administrative offices to question the Roman officials there about Jesus of Nazareth. One officer replied that he had heard from traveling Jews that Jesus had gone to Jerusalem, where he was stirring up trouble. Cain did not pause to express his irritation but rather hastened back to his chariot. Ordering his guards to follow closely, he set out for Jerusalem with his horses at a sustainable canter. It was shortly after the third hour, or nine o’clock in the morning. He had sixty miles to ride. If there were no mishaps, he could make Jerusalem by midafternoon.
Around the sixth hour, with the sun almost directly overhead, dark clouds rapidly appeared in what had been a clear sky all morning. Overspreading the sun, they heralded a storm. A strong southeast wind kicked up, and rain first spattered, then drenched, the road’s dust. All the way to Jerusalem, the storm mounted in intensity, until the guards trailing Cain could barely see his chariot in front of them. Lightning and thunder seemed to be vying to rip apart the sky. By two o’clock in the afternoon, it was nearly as dark as night.
As his chariot rumbled through the outskirts of the city, he made out a familiar figure who apparently had sought refuge from the storm under a large olive tree. It was Judas, the treasurer he’d paid for the fish they’d purchased from Jesus’s followers. Cain abruptly reined in the horses, and his chariot came to a halt. He did not pause for salutations.
“Where can I find your master, Judas?”
With disheveled hair, sallow cheeks, and reddened eyes, the man glanced away momentarily and then muttered, “They have taken him to Golgotha.”
Golgotha. he place of the skull. Cain knew it to be a small hill outside the city walls.
“Why are you not with Jesus, then?”
“All the disciples have fled,” the man replied chokingly. “But I, especially, am not worthy to be in his presence.”
“What do you mean?” Cain asked with mounting urgency.
“I betrayed him to the Pharisees and scribes. They arrested him and brought him to the high priest. And all for thirty pieces of silver.” Judas bowed his head in shame.
The silver coins the devil had left behind in Caesarea flashed across Cain’s mind.
“What are they doing with Jesus?” he demanded angrily.
“They are crucifying him,” Judas gasped out. “Oh, Master!” he exclaimed, breaking down in sobs of despair. “I am unfit to live!”
Cain regarded Judas coldly. Disgust and resentment welled up in him. Grabbing a length of rope from the floor of his chariot, he flung it at Judas’s feet.
“Do with this as you must,” he spat out at the man, as he spurred his horses onward toward the site of Jesus’s crucifixion.
The streets began to narrow, and Cain’s progress was blocked by crowds of people fleeing the violent storm. Lightning bolts forked across the sky from horizon to horizon, and claps of thunder sounded ever louder. Then, the ground began shaking violently, and people scattered in every direction. It was just after the ninth hour, and pitch dark between the lightning flashes.
When Cain finally reached Golgotha, he saw three crosses in silhouette against the inky sky. They presented a horrifying spectacle. In the center was Jesus, beaten and bloodied almost beyond recognition. Staring at him through tears, Cain could see he was too late.
The man who had healed his son was dead.
On his head had been placed a crown of thorns. Above, the words of a mocking inscription read:
this is jesus
the king of the jews
On either side of the cross in the center, two other men were in the last throes of their agony, crying out in the storm’s fury. As Cain watched, Roman soldiers approached each cross, armed with hammers. With savage blows, they broke the two men’s legs to hasten their deaths by asphyxiation. The dead weight of their bodies would cause their lungs to collapse.
Cain fell to his knees in front of the central cross. Almost everyone had fled the scene. Only a few onlookers remained, including a group of sobbing women, somewhat more distant, who repeatedly called on Jesus by name. Cain felt himself overwhelmed by despair. His final chance to speak with Jesus was gone. Tears furrowed his cheeks.
As he wept, he watched the soldiers take Jesus’s body down from the cross. Their commander, a centurion, supervised the dolorous task. When the soldiers had finished, the earth shook once more, prompting the centurion to declare, “Truly, this man was the Son of God!”
“But you crucified him,” Cain muttered.
He thought again of the crown on Jesus’s head. Thorns had served as a ghastly emblem in his own life, linking him to the Son of God’s final agony on this dreadful day. The devil had scattered the thorns in the wheat field long ago, setting the stage for Cain’s fateful attack on Abel. Now the devil had caused Jesus to be betrayed to his enemies, who tortured him with thorns before putting him to death.
Cain now saw how the master of spirits had tormented him through his whole life, driving a wedge between him and God through temptations, trickery, and even an attempt on his life at the Circus. Why would God have rescued Cain but then fail to save his own son from the devil’s treachery?
Cain returned despondently to his chariot. Without a word to the guards, he retraced his way through Jerusalem and then took the long, muddy road back, not just to the harbor of Caesarea, but to his interminable life still saddled with guilt.
CHAPTER 67
The Nostos: AD 33
IT WAS ALMOST SUNSET when Quintus knocked on the door of his father’s stateroom. Cain had remained s
ecluded in his cabin for four days, with strict orders to be left alone. All Quintus knew was that his father had returned late at night from Jerusalem. He learned from the guards that his father was moody and seemed depressed, but they said nothing about Jesus except that he had died on a cross. Quintus could scarcely imagine such an execution, especially one carried out against a man whom his father had described with such reverence.
After the ship had been restocked with extra provisions, they set sail early on Saturday morning, despite high winds and storm clouds on the horizon. The Nostos was on a direct course for Herculaneum. The challenge for Captain Felix and his crew this evening was to navigate the narrow, hazardous strait between Sicily and North Africa before they made their northward turn toward Rome. Submerged reefs in the strait had claimed many a ship.
“Come in,” Cain called in a weary voice.
“Father, our supper will be ready soon,” said Quintus hesitantly. “May we talk together?”
“Yes, son. Sit down here at the table.” To distract himself, Cain was poring over a large chart of the North African coastline.
Quintus could sense that his father, normally so upbeat and encouraging, was still brooding over the events in Jerusalem. He didn’t know how to begin, so he asked directly, “Father, what happened in Jerusalem?”
Cain stared at the boy sorrowfully, “They crucified Jesus, Quintus.”
“How could he die, Father? You said he was the Son of God!”
“I don’t know, son. He healed you, and many others, but why he could not save himself is a mystery.”
“Were you able to see Jesus before he died?”
“No, I was too late,” he said bitterly.
Cain rose from his chair and crossed to the bed, where he reclined with his head propped up on the pillows. He motioned for Quintus to remain in his seat. A simple supper of hot fish soup and bread was brought to the cabin.
“Take some food, Quintus. I am not hungry,”
While the boy ate, his father described the storm that had delayed him on his chariot ride to Jerusalem.
“If it were not for that storm,” he said sourly, “I might have reached Jesus in time.”
“Did you see any of his followers?”
“None that I recognized,” Cain replied, suppressing any mention of Judas, whom he regarded as a traitor, scarcely a follower.
“That’s odd,” remarked the child. “I would think Jesus’s friends would stand by him if he were in trouble.”
The boy speaks truer than he knows, thought Cain.
Quintus had finished his meal. His father did not seem especially inclined to talk further about Jerusalem.
“Where are we headed, Father?”
“We are going straight to Herculaneum.”
“Oh,” the boy said with a disappointed frown. “I thought we were headed for Rome. The new racing season will be starting next week.”
“I’m sorry, Quintus,” Cain said absently. “But I have important work in Herculaneum. Now, if you are finished with supper, please return to your cabin and get ready for bed. I haven’t slept in three nights.”
As his father waved his hand in dismissal, Quintus rose from his seat and quietly departed.
With a sigh, Cain rolled onto his side and curled up, facing the bulkhead. After a short while, he finally fell into a much needed sleep.
***
Once again, the crosses stood at Golgotha, grotesquely silhouetted against a lurid purple sky. Cain, at the foot of the cross in the center, stared up at the pierced body of Jesus, flanked by the two thieves. A sudden lightning strike blinded him, and he shut his eyes in pain. When he opened them again, the scene had changed. He himself, writhing in agony, had been crucified. Across from him, he saw Abel, his head lolling in death. Jesus, in the center, was also dead.
“Too late!” Cain shouted to the darkness. “Too late!”
“Yes, too late,” a metallic-sounding voice echoed in Cain’s dream. “I’ve told you all along that God would abandon you forever. Why, look at what just happened in Jerusalem. God has forsaken his very own son! He is a faithless God, yet you stubbornly wish he will somehow accept you. You have no hope of an afterlife with God. Your only chance is with me. God has forsaken you, too, just as King David said in olden times.”
Cain recognized the phrase as one of the psalms sung by the Hebrew translators in Alexandria. “You are not above quoting the Scriptures for your purposes, evil one?”
His dream visitor gave vent to a gurgling laugh. “The Scriptures delight me, Cain! They provide a matchless record of human folly. Illusions without number can be found in them. But I am not here to debate you.”
“Why, then, have you come?”
“You disobeyed me. That is why I punished you at the Circus in Rome. But then I restored you to full health, so that you would come to know my power. I could have healed Quintus, if only you had asked me and shown homage.”
Cain noticed that the spirit failed to mention the winged being who had rescued him from the chariot axle. “It never occurred to me to ask you,” he muttered.
“More’s the pity, because I am stronger than God. I helped the wretched humans put God’s son to death. I entered into Judas and turned him. No one can contend with my power.”
“Quintus was healed, and not by you, spirit! Jesus declared it to me. You cannot deny that fact!” For the first time in their encounter, Cain raised his voice.
“Let us not argue,” the spirit replied soothingly. “Instead, let us set our sights calmly on the future. The eternal future. God is just playing with you, my friend. He trifles with you the way a mongoose toys with a snake. Yes, your son was healed. But don’t be deceived. Both you and Quintus will be destroyed when God seeks retribution for the slaying of Jesus. The end of the world is at hand, Cain, but this time there will be no ark. There will be total annihilation from an angry God. But just as you found rescue on a ship with Noah, now your own ship can be your salvation.”
Cain’s curiosity stirred. “What do you mean by that, spirit?”
“The Nostos opens the door for your suffering to end on your own terms! Go on deck, walk to the bow, and throw yourself overboard. The tremendous pressure of the bow wave will end your misery instantly, and the sweet haven of my outstretched arms will receive you. You will find peace there!”
Cain knew that the crusted layers of sharp barnacles on the ship’s hull would result in one of the most painful deaths imaginable. The agony of his flesh being torn apart as he rolled under his ship would equal or exceed what he had suffered at the Circus. Yet his mind wavered as the spirit left him.
Perhaps that was exactly the sort of death he deserved.
***
After a few nightmarish hours during which he was neither awake nor asleep, but almost delirious, Cain gasped for air. Covered in a cold sweat, and clad only in breeches, he stumbled from his stateroom and exited from the midship companionway to the deck. The Nostos was racing downwind, driven by gale-force gusts. Captain Felix and the eight oarsmen struggling to steer the ship did not even notice him, as they were focused intently on keeping the ship positioned down the face of the mountainous ocean swells. If the Nostos slipped sideways, she would broach and quite possibly capsize.
As Cain traversed the heaving deck toward the bow, occasional lightning bolts lit up the pitch-black sky. Towering above his head and hissing in his ears was a phosphorescent green bow wave. When he reached the front of the ship, the master of spirits whispered in his ear. “The moment is now! Abandon your vain hopes and enter eternity with me!”
Cain stared forward, anticipating the next surge. Adorning the prow of his ship was a beautiful sculpture depicting a mermaid with dolphins. As his gaze fell upon it, the figures were transformed and melded into the entangling figure of a sea serpent twisting back toward the ship and staring directly at Cain with large, fiery eyes. It was as if the devil had sought a front-row seat to watch the first man ever born commit suicide.
&nbs
p; Distracted and unnerved, Cain had to struggle to maintain his footing on the pitching deck. A bolt of lightning blinded him temporarily, just as he heard the sound of multiple thuds on the deck. When the ship rolled suddenly, he slipped and fell flat on his stomach. Stretching out his hands to break the fall, he skidded forward on a slippery substance. A loose nail sticking up from the deck pierced the palm of his right hand. Then he realized what had happened. Large squid leaping from the bow wave had landed on deck. Their oily bodies had combined with the ship’s roll to cause his fall.
Lying prone, Cain saw the feet of a man between him and the bow. Looking upward, he gasped as he recognized Jesus of Nazareth standing over him, dressed in a white cloak and barefoot. Jesus’s face and head were pristine. There was no trace of the wounds he had endured from scourging and the crown of thorns.
“That is not the way,” Jesus said tenderly as he extended both his hands to help Cain to his feet. He noticed that Jesus’s hands and feet, in contrast to his face, still bore the imprint of the nails used to pin him to the cross. Stunned, and struggling to regain his composure, Cain stared at the man he’d seen crucified less than a week before. The two stood together very near the ship’s prow. Although the storm continued unabated, Cain was somehow able to maintain his footing on the pitching deck and clearly hear Jesus’s words above the crashing of the waves. Even Jesus’s cloak draped loosely, unruffled by the wind.
Jesus turned slightly and placed his hand on the head of the wooden sea-serpent figure. A dark, powdery dust spewed from the sculpture and blew out to sea as the master of spirits was evicted, and the prow resumed its original shape of a mermaid surrounded by dolphins. Then the dust gathered itself into a tight cloud, reversed course, and flew against the prevailing wind toward the stern. Cain’s attention, however, remained riveted on Jesus, and so he failed to see the particles strike the crew manning the steering oars, including Captain Felix. The ship immediately lurched as the sailors altered its course by about thirty degrees. Jesus then turned back and faced his audience of one with a smile.
