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Ironic, that this mob of perhaps a hundred was all that the city of Jerusalem, with a population of 25,000,
could spare either to ridicule or to mourn the greatest man of the age! The plain fact was that ninety nine
per cent of the population was simply too busy with its routine pursuits to pay any attention to-"
He banged into a bystander. "Sorry," Brother Paul said. "I was trying to see-" But the man took no notice
of him.
Brother Paul made his way to the front, finally getting a look at the cross carrier's face. And stopped,
surprised. It was not Jesus!
Then he laughed with sheer relief of confusion, though his underlying distress had not been abated. Jesus
had not carried his own cross; he had been too weak after the beating they had given him so that another
man had been impressed to carry it for him.
Brother Paul's laughter had attracted momentary attention. People shied away from him, and a Roman
soldier scowled.
Now he saw Jesus walking a few paces behind, wearing the crown of thorns, eyes downcast. He was pale,
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r r
and there was a trickle of blood on his forehead where a thorn had punctured the skin, but he walked
unassisted.
"Oh, Jesus!" Brother Paul breathed. "Couldn't there have been some other way!" Yet then there would
have been no Christianity&
The group moved slowly on up the hill, limited by the pace of the man staggering under the burden of the
cross. Brother Paul, wary of interfering with history even in Animation, walked with them, trying to get
close enough to feel Jesus' aura without attracting further attention to himself. But the Roman soldier
spied him and warned him away with a dark glance. Brother Paul fell back.
They come to the gate in the great city wall. Beyond this was the dread place called Golgotha. The
meaning of the name, Brother Paul remembered, was "The Skull."
Now the crowd milled about as the soldiers prepared the ground for the crucifixion. It was necessary to
dig a hole to stand the cross in and place a support to act as a fulcrum so that the cross could be erected.
The immediate vicinity was crowded because two more victims had arrived with their crosses; the
religious nut did not rate an entire ceremony to himself. Yet Jesus was the center of attention.
Women closed in, and the harried soldiers permitted this encroachment because the ladies were obviously
harmless and were, after all, female. Brother Paul tried to move in with them, but again the soldier spied
him and warned him back with a significant gesture. The Romans were businesslike and relatively
dispassionate; they evidently did not like this business, but they had done it before, followed orders now,
and did not intend to let the situation get out of hand. Brother Paul retreated again still unable to verify
Jesus' aura by contact.
The ladies clustered about Jesus tearfully, some mourning most eloquently. In Brother Paul's day the term
"wailing" had derogatory connotations, but here the wailing was genuine: a passionate voicing of utter
bereavement that chilled the flesh and whose sincerity could not be doubted. Occidentals were unable to
show emotion this candidly, and perhaps this was their loss.
Jesus stood up straight and spoke for the first time since Brother Paul had joined the party. "O daughters
of Jerusalem, do not weep over me. Weep over yourselves and over your own children."
They became silent, surprised. Jesus continued talking to them, but Brother Paul, straining to hear, was
roughly interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned about. There was a Roman legionary,
impressive in his ornate helmet, armored skirt, and slung short sword.
"Governor Pilate will speak with you," the soldier said gruffly.
Oh, no! The last thing Brother Paul wanted was to become involved in history. Of course he could not
affect actual history, but if his presence distorted the Animation, he would not be able to ascertain the
truth he sought. Was the validity of the Holy Ghost something that was inherently unknowable?
No! Better to believe that there had been a man like him at the Crucifixion, who had spoken to Pontius
Pilate. Brother Paul was merely occupying the body, the host, as it were in Transfer, as the alien visitor
Antares would have put it. All he had to do was go along with it, acting natural. So long as he did not
deliberately step out of character for this situation, it should be all right.
Pilate was resplendent in his official Roman tunic and embroidered cape, astride a magnificent stallion.
Behind him the flag of Rome fluttered restlessly in the rising wind, its huge eagle seeming almost to fly.
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r r
Oh, the trappings of power were impressive!
The Governor stared down at Brother Paul from his elevation. "You appear to be unusually interested in
the proceedings, and you are not from Jerusalem. Are you one of this man's disciples?"
Brother Paul stood frozen. Was he, like Simon, to deny his faith? Yet he was not a disciple in the fashion
Pilate meant; not one of the Twelve. "I am not a disciple," Brother Paul said carefully. "But I do believe
in the divinity of Jesus Christ." Yet was that itself a lie? He was here to verify the aura Jesus hosted, to
ascertain whether it was some artificial, machine-enhanced thing, or the living Holy Spirit of God. How
could he claim to believe when his objectivity required that he hold his judgment in abeyance. "At least, I
think he may be the-"
"The King of the Jews?" Pilate asked. Suddenly Brother Paul recognized him: Therion! The Roman
soldiers had been Therion too, but this was better casting.
"Perhaps," Brother Paul agreed tightly. The legionary beside him shifted his balance. (Could a single
role-player play two roles simultaneously in Animation? Apparently so.)
"Are you literate?" Pilate asked.
Since the verbal portion of this Animation was in Brother Paul's own language, it seemed safe to assume
the writing was also. "Yes."
"Yes, sir!" the legionary snapped. "Show respect to the Governor!"
Brother Paul reminded himself of his need to play along with the Animation. "Yes, sir," he repeated.
Pilate nodded benignly. "Excellent. I have a task for you. I am not altogether satisfied of this man Jesus'
guilt; in fact I find little to condemn him other than intemperate words, most of which have been uttered
by his accusers." He glanced aside, making an eloquent gesture of spitting. "The high priests of the
Temple, who feel their authority threatened by one who preaches some modicum of decency and
salvation, even for the poor. Pharisees!" And now he did spit. "I understand this man Jesus once rousted
them right out of the Temple, kicking over their tables and scattering their money. Good riddance!" Then
his gaze returned to Brother Paul. "But these Jews would have him die, and I do not wish to incite further
unrest while passions are already roused during this local celebration, the Passaway. Passover, I mean.
Relates to some sort of mythology concerning Egypt, I hear, though I'd like to hear the Egyptians' side of
it! At any rate, the politics of the situation require me to accede to an act I do not necessarily approve,
washing my hands of responsibility for the decision. But that others may at least know the claim for
which this man is being crucified, rightly or wrongly, I propose to inscribe a plaque and set it on his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]