Dear and Glorious Physician (58 page)

“The ancient prophecies say that He will rise again,” said Lucanus. He strained towards Hilell, who shook his head. “How is that possible?” he muttered. “Yes, it is true that I heard from my servants that so His followers had declared. At the end He was only a man.” He looked at Lucanus imploringly. “He died! You must tell me, for my soul’s sake and peace, that He was only a man after all, and that I did not truly betray Him, nor wound Him!”

“Have not men always betrayed Him?” asked Lucanus, sadly. “And will they not always betray Him, world without end? Did I not betray Him myself, though I saw the star of His birth, and I heard of Him from infancy? You repent, and penitence is all that He asks.”

Hilell was weeping. “Then I am not lost, and He has forgiven me?”

“He will not despise a repentant heart,” said Lucanus, and wiped the sick man’s cheek with a towel dipped in cool water. “But tell us.”

It was some time before Hilell could speak. He twisted his thin fingers together and looked at the shining windows as if seeing something beyond them. “I had been visiting Herod, who is a friend of my family, in his palace at Caesarea. You will understand that was almost a year ago. I, my wife and my children, who were with me also, but as the time of the Day of Atonement approached I could not remain with Herod, who is partly Greek, and a man of caprice who is at one hour a Greek and then the next hour a Jew. I am not a pious man, nor do I observe the strict Law. Nevertheless, I could endure Herod’s conversation no longer, nor his moods. He sacrifices in the Roman temples; then he goes to Jerusalem for purification and strews ashes on his head, and cries for forgiveness and heaps gold in the hands of the priests. So I sent my family to Jerusalem quietly, then followed them a day or two later.”

He paused, and Lucanus refreshed him again with the wine and the stimulant.

“You must understand that I had been hearing much of that Jewish rabbi who was teaching the people in the dust of the cities and the byways. Herod spoke of Him with uneasy laughter; there were many who accused Him of arousing the Jews to rebellion against the Roman oppressor. But Herod was also uneasy because he had caused the death of John the Baptist, as he was called by the people, for Herod is a learned man in his way, and he thought that John was Elias, and had at first spared him. John had denounced him, him the tetrarch, for marrying his brother’s wife, Herodias.

“You will understand, Lucanus, that these things are vague in my mind, for what was a poor Jewish rabbi from Galilee to the rich and the powerful? There are always prophets; the Jews breed prophets as locusts breed young. One more or less is unimportant. I should not have listened to any of the stories had not Herod seemed unusually capricious and disturbed, and had he not become unpredictable and savage since he had had that John put to death.

“I understand that Herod might have forgotten John, as one forgets a violently colored dream in time, had not that Jewish rabbi appeared in his footsteps. Herod told me that John had spoken of Him. Then it was rumored that the rabbi was performing great miracles; the palace rang with the news. It was said He was the Messias. It was strange that it was only the slaves and the miserable freedmen who spoke of Him with such inordinate passion and excitement. But rulers listen to slaves, and so the rumors of the Messias came to Herod’s ears, and he was beside himself.”

Lucanus wiped Hilell’s face. Arieh sat in silence, listening, and Hilell did not release his hand.

“It was a hot day when I left Herod, and I drove my own chariot, surrounded by my servants on horseback and on foot. The dust was a white fire, and I wrapped a cloth about my nose and eyes. And then at the roadside we saw a little group of men sitting on stones in the dust, near a small village, and children stood shyly near them.

“Why did I stop? One of my men rode up to my chariot and told me vehemently that yonder there was the humble rabbi with His friends, and I was curious to see the man who had so ignited Herod, and about whom there were so many incredible tales. So I drove up near Him and His little band of followers and the children, and listened with a smile to One who appeared as poor and humble as a beggar, and I said to myself, Is this He of Whom they speak?

“He was telling a story, a parable, and the Jews are as full of stories as a pomegranate is full of seeds. His accent was gross, for He was a peasant from Galilee, a woodworker as I was told. He related the story very well, with much eloquence. I looked at His dusty face and His dusty garments and feet as He sat on the stone, and I was struck by the story. For He told of a Pharisee — and the Pharisees are very devout and rigorous men who defend the Law as the legions defend Rome — who went up to the Temple to pray, and beside him was a dull publican of no consequence, who, no doubt, the Pharisee found insupportable. And the Pharisee, fastidiously annoyed at the nearness of the publican, drew his headcloth over his nose so as not to be offended by the other’s presence and his mean occupation.”

Hilell’s eyes changed, became eager and warm as he looked at Lucanus. “It was a very interesting story, and I do not like the Pharisees, who annoy me with their excessive piety which is only the letter and not the spirit of the Law. I was willing to be amused; it amused me that this poor and ragged man could speak of the Pharisees who are a terror in Judea, with their constant accusations to the priests that the people do not observe all the rituals properly. They are tiresome, and dangerous, these Pharisees, searching always for heresy.”

He panted a little, and once again Lucanus refreshed him. He lay on his pillows, and his eyes became dreaming. “An excellent story. The rabbi said that the Pharisee prayed to God, saying, ‘I thank You, Lord, that I am not as other men, adulterers, extortioners, unjust and knowing nothing of Your Law. I am not as this miserable publican, who should not profane Your Temple by his presence. I fast at all the fasts; I give scrupulous tithes’. And the Pharisee was very pleased with himself.

“But the publican struck his breast, weeping, and would not raise his eyes, and cried out, ‘God be merciful to me, a sinner!’ ”

Hilell had so far recovered that he could laugh faintly. “And the rabbi said to His followers, ‘I tell you that this publican was more worthy than the Pharisee, and God comforted him, but did not comfort the Pharisee. For he that raises himself shall be struck down, but he who humbles himself shall be exalted’.

“I must tell you of that rabbi. The sun was vivid, but His face was more vivid, for His emotion was more than the emotion of any man. He sat like a prince on a throne, and one forgot that He was only a member of the Amuratzem on a stone, and that His feet were laved in the dust. He smiled like a father; He looked at His followers with blue and tender eyes, and they listened reverently. His beard was golden, His hands rested on His knees. He spoke like one endowed with authority.

“It was then that the children, ragged and barefoot, and standing in the background, approached Him shyly. While I had been listening to the rabbi their mothers had joined them, poor women in rough striped garments, with jars on their shoulders. They pressed their children towards Him, peering about them humbly, as if begging pardon. And His followers said to them, ‘Do not disturb the Master, and take your children away from Him, for He is weary and must not be troubled as He speaks His wisdom’.”

Hilell sighed deeply and closed his eyes. “But the rabbi called to the children and held out His arms to them and said to His followers, ‘Permit the children to come unto Me, and do not rebuke them. For of such as these little ones are the Kingdom of Heaven’. And the children clambered about Him and sat on His knee and wound their arms about His neck, laughing and embracing Him, and He held them to Him. And I swear to you that I was freshly moved, for I am a father and I know the sweetness of children’s kisses and love. The rabbi said to His followers, ‘Who does not receive the Kingdom of God as a little child shall not enter within its gates’.”

Hilell opened his eyes, and again they were full of torment. “I understood the rabbi, though never had I understood before. And I stepped down from my chariot and approached Him, and my servants called to the people to open a passage for me. He watched me approach, and He smiled at me like one recognizing a brother, and waited. My servants shouted, ‘Make way for Hilell ben Hamram, who is a man great in Israel, for he had the rule of a town and his family is renowned and has much gold!’ And the rabbi said nothing, and only waited for me, though the people stepped back in fear.

“I stopped before Him, close enough to touch His shoulder, and He gazed up at me in silence. I said to Him, ‘Good Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?’ He smiled at me again, and said, and His voice was sonorous, ‘Why do you call me good? None is good, only God. You know the Commandments, that you must not kill, steal, bear false witness, or commit adultery. You must honor your father and your mother’. I said to Him, ‘I have kept the Commandments from my youth’.

“He was silent for so long that I thought He had dismissed me, He the poor unlearned rabbi with the vulgar accent. Then He raised His eyes to me and said in a thoughtful tone, ‘You lack one thing: sell all that you have, for you are rich, and give it to the poor, for then you shall have treasures in heaven’.”

Hilell raised himself on his cushions and looked at Lucanus imploringly. “Physician! You will understand how incredible that was! Why should He have asked me to beggar myself?”

Lucanus looked at the ocean, which he could see through the window, and said, softly, “He asks that each man deliver to Him that which he holds dearest in the world, and it is evident that you held your money above all things.”

Hilell groaned, and fell back. “That is true. I understand now. I stepped back from Him, appalled. He saw my agitation, and He said to me very gently, and in a low voice, ‘Come, follow Me’.”

Hilell passed his hand over his face. “He asked me to follow Him, to be one with His homeless followers! I, Hilell ben Hamram! I told myself this was madness. Then He turned to His followers and said very sorrowfully, ‘How difficult shall it be for those who have riches to enter into the Kingdom of God!’ And He stood up. He began to speak again to those about Him, and I returned to my chariot, and I drove away.”

Lucanus and Arieh did not speak. Hilell looked from one to the other, pleadingly. “I was educated in Athens and Rome. I am a man of learning and power and influence and wealth. I am a man of the world. I am Hilell ben Hamram, and I was asked to do the impossible.”

“I understand. I understand how incredible that must have sounded to you,” said Lucanus, sighing. “For did I not myself berate and hate Him when He took from me my heart’s darling, and did I not vow to revenge myself upon Him? I did not know, as you did not know, that He takes only to give, bereaves only to extend His comfort, blinds only that a man can see His light. Who am I to reproach you, Hilell ben Hamram?”

He indicated Arieh with his hand. “Who can know the mysteries of God? He surrendered this young man into my hands, after more than twenty years of searching for him, and I know now that when He gave me Arieh it was to deliver me from my hatred and bring me to Him.”

Hilell gazed at him. He watched as Arieh leaned his head on Lucanus’ shoulder. Arieh said, “Blessed are we that He visited us.”

Lucanus stretched out his hand to Hilell. “I can see that you never forgot Him, that He haunted your life and your dreams, and you could not flee from Him. Rest, and be consoled, for you have suffered much and He has forgiven you and asks only that you follow Him and leave Him never. Come with us to Israel, where we will find Him again, for surely He is not dead, but lives.”

Hilell ben Hamram rose from his bed, vital and young again. He would not permit Lucanus and Arieh to leave him. They, on their ship, attending the crew, would be followed by his magnificent vessel, until the time Lucanus’ contract was fulfilled. Then Lucanus and Arieh would board his ship, and they would go to Israel together. “I was dead, and you called me forth!” he cried to Lucanus, embracing him.

When they stopped briefly at ports, Hilell insisted on sharing Lucanus’ houses with him and Arieh. He lay down on a floor pallet, and ate the frugal meals which Lucanus provided, and followed him wherever he and Arieh went to minister to waiting patients. But his bearing, and the bearing of Arieh, awed the humble patients. At night, sitting around the table eating and with lamplight about them, Hilell would tell his companions of what he knew and heard of Jesus of Nazareth. His fine ivory face would glow; his dark eyes flamed, and joy stood in them. “I understand from my servants that the Master’s followers scattered after His crucifixion for fear of the Romans, for they had been proscribed for troublemaking. I will bring them to my house in Jerusalem, and we will sit among them and talk of Him!”

Lucanus listened with profound attention to the stories of Hilell. And then when he was alone late at night he began to write down these stories. He wrote with the pellucid strength and precision of the Greek scholar, and with that scholar’s calm but compassionate eloquence. It seemed to him that he had witnessed these things with his own eyes; as he wrote he saw the scenes, heard the voices of the people. And so began his Great Gospel, written for all the world and the world of men, for he knew, as Hilell did not, that God had clothed Himself in human flesh not only for Jews but for Gentiles also.

“As you know, Lucanus,” said Hilell, “we have had the prophecy of ages that the Messias would be of the house of David, and it is said that Jesus is of that house. I have heard His Mother had been visited by Gabriel, who told her of the birth of the coming Messias. But you must verify these things yourself in Israel.”

Lucanus thought of the Mother of the Messias, whose name was unknown to Hilell. One night he remembered what Joseph ben Gamliel had told him of her, when her Son had been a boy and had visited the elders and scholars in the Temple. The sweetest and tenderest of emotions came to Lucanus. She began to embody for him all the dear women he had known, Iris, his mother, Rubria and Sara, and his wise, childlike sister, Aurelia, who loved all things which had been created.

He longed to be in the presence of Mary, though he did not as yet know her name. He wanted to hear from her own lips the story of her Son’s birth and childhood and youth and manhood. Surely she could tell him more than any of His followers could tell him. She had guarded Him in her womb; she had fed Him at her breast; she had taught Him to walk; she had washed His garments, had spun them, and sewn them. When He had been afflicted with ailments she had nursed Him and had sat by His bed at night, watching. She had heard His first words, had seen His first smile. As Lucanus thought of Mary a passionate thirst for her presence and her voice came to him, and he loved her. She was the great Mystery, and she was a woman, and women always confided in him their deepest secrets. “When we know what she thought, and what she did, then we shall know everything,” he said to Arieh and Hilell.

“She was but an instrument of God,” said Hilell.

“She was His Mother, and do not mothers know all about their sons?” asked Lucanus. “And why was this child chosen to be His Mother? There was a reason why she of all women was chosen, and she can tell me.”

“And do not men love their mothers?” said Arieh. “Did He not love her above all other creatures? Would He not listen to her tenderly as infant, youth, and man? Yes.”

“Surely she is the blessed of the ages,” said Lucanus.

He recorded the story of the centurion, Antonius, and his servant; he recorded the story of Ramus, who had seen the Messias raise a young man from the dead and give him again to his mother. But the first part of his Gospel he left open for the time when he would see Mary. He was disturbed about one thing. He said to Hilell, “When the Messias came for the last time to Jerusalem, you have told me that the Jewish populace lined His way, strewing palm branches before Him and His donkey, and hailed Him as the All High, and crowded about Him to kiss His garments, holding up their children for Him to see and bless. And when He was led to the place of crucifixion, His people crowded the road and wept, and a woman wiped His face when He fell under the Roman whips, and a poor and miserable Jew carried His cross. Why, if they loved Him so, did they permit His death, and denounce Him, and scatter His followers after all He had done in His mercy for them?”

Hilell replied, “It is a precarious relationship between the Jews and the Romans; the high priests and wise men of Israel did their work well. They acted as mediators between their people and Rome, promising that there would be no bloody revolts against Rome, that they would permit no agitators among the people, for they were fearful that if these things happened Israel would be destroyed by Rome, as other nations had been destroyed. And there are the young men called Essenes, who are very devout and spend months in the desert praying for the Messias and for the deliverance of Israel from the power of Rome. And it was said that Jesus was one of their number, though whether or not that is true I do not know.

“Then there are the Pharisees, grim, sour-faced men, who have set themselves up as the guardians of the Law. They are merchants and bankers, lawyers and doctors. They will not live joyously, nor permit others to live so. They despise the poor and humble and homeless, and the Amuratzem, the peasants. They have even suggested that the Amuratzem be forbidden to approach the altars too closely, for they are unlearned and rough-clad!

“And there are the rabble, the market-place rabble, who have no love for their country or their God — the petulant, lightless rabble which afflict all cities and all nations, demanding always, greedy, eager for sport, with lusty animal appetites, quarrelsome, milling restlessly, incapable of learning anything, contentious, and dependent. Have you not such a rabble in Rome, and will not Rome die of them, and the taxation they impose on their betters for their idle support?

“Now when the Messias made such a stir throughout all of Judea, speaking to the gentle and the hard-working and humble, promising them that God will never leave them, but loves them, healing them tenderly, and telling them that though they have no money they are not despised of God, as the Pharisees despise them, assuring them that they are as valuable in the sight of the All High as any emperor or king or silk-clothed priest or Pharisee — then this aroused the anger of the Pharisees. Moreover, it seemed to the Pharisees that the Messias was somewhat loose with the Law, interpreting it to His followers and the people as no Pharisee would interpret it. In the eyes of the Pharisees, He was debasing God to the level of the lowest, uttering heresies which would destroy the spiritual strength of Israel. When His followers acclaimed Him as the Messias, the Pharisees were enraged, for did they not believe that the Messias would come to the Jews as the mightiest of kings, clothed in glory and fierceness and power, surrounded by an angelic host, and would He not at once drive out the Romans and put them to flight forever? Yet here was a humble Man, a member of the Amuratzem, of Galilee, unknown to everyone except for three short years, a nameless Man, in rope sandals and in rough garments, speaking in a common tongue like a peasant — and it was said openly that He was the Messias! Was this not a blasphemy against God, against the prophecy? asked the Pharisees. Worse, He did not deny He was the Messias!

“The followers, and the people too, were confused. Here was the Messias, yet He expressed no hatred for Rome; He even condescended to cure some Romans. However, the followers and the people, who had been given joy and surcease by Him, loved Him and knew Him, and accepted Him. They were those who acclaimed Him on the road to Jerusalem, and wept as He bore His cross to Calvary. They hoped, to the very last, that when a Roman would drive a nail through His feet the heavens would open and wrath would descend upon the earth.

“Then there were the priests, many of them members of the Pharisee class, who were honestly horrified at His teachings. They were also fearful that the Romans would use the Messias and His words as an excuse for suppression, bloodshed, and oppressive laws — after all the work the priests had done to placate Rome and keep a measure of freedom for their people.

“So you have the priests, frightened for their people and their faith; you have the self-appointed guardians of the Law, the Pharisees, who detest the humble; you have the shrill rabble, always searching for a victim. And you have Rome, ever watchful for signs of rebellion against her power. Considering all these, it is a marvel that He was permitted to live as long as He did! Eventually He was denounced to the Roman officials, and that was the end. Or the beginning,” added Hilell.

He sighed. “I was told that long before His death He prophesied it. He said He had been born to die as He died. God had willed it from the beginning of time, to reconcile His people to Him, to show them that He had never abandoned them, that He loved them and was willing to perish for them, in order that they might see the truth, the light, and the life, and life everlasting and mercy without bounds. He clothed Himself in their flesh to demonstrate that nothing was impossible with God. The men who killed Him were, at the last, only His ordained instruments. Without His death, as well as His life, there would be no fulfillment of the prophecies of the prophets.”

Lucanus was silent for a long time; he nodded over and over as he thought. Then he said, “You do not know what has happened now?”

Hilell hesitated. “No. But His followers said He would rise from the dead on the third day, for so He had told them.”

Lucanus smiled. “He has risen,” he said. “Be of good heart, my dear friend. He has risen! I know this in my soul.”

The joyousness, the clean bright surety, filled his days. He was like a youth, filled with words and regnant with messages. He looked about him, and it was as if he had never seen before, as if for the first time he had been given sight and ears and understanding. The darkness and the grief had departed from him like a storm. When he smiled at his friends or at those he treated, the sun seemed to shine on his face. He would touch the cross he now wore always on his breast. And he wrote his Gospel.

They had intended landing at Joppa, but a storm blew, and they were driven off course to Caesarea. Lucanus and Hilell and Arieh stood together at the ship’s railing and watched the approaching coast of Judea, and Lucanus thought, There is my home from which I have always fled. The port of Caesarea was a long black spur of rock reaching out into the sea, and Hilell explained that on one side the Roman galleons unloaded or loaded cargo, and on the other side they disembarked passengers or took them on board. He said, smiling, “I have a dear friend, a Roman officer, who was appointed to this region three years ago. You will like him: a wry and pungent man, of no illusions.”

Behind the wonderful ship of Hilell a huge black cloud formed like a great tower, outlined with the blazing gold of the descending sun; the sea flowed like liquid rubies. Mars, an amber jewel, stood above the cloudy edifice. The ship glided to the busy spur which was the harbor; several galleons and smaller vessels dipped at anchor, their slack sails stained with scarlet from the sunset. A low ridge of hills lay beyond the harbor, bronze and naked, and the air was poignant with the scent of the East.

Hilell pointed to the hills and said with some bitterness, “The Romans stripped our land of its dark cypresses for their ships.” Arieh’s blue eyes were sharp and piercing as he looked at the land of his fathers, and his lips trembled with emotion. Hilell, seeing this, put his hand on the young man’s arm and pressed it affectionately. He had a beautiful young sister, Leah, fifteen years old, and ripe for marriage. He began to plan a wedding between her and Arieh, the son of Elazar ben Solomon, a noble name in Israel.

The ship, masterfully handled, slipped within the harbor, all its gay pennants flying, its sails heeling against the awesome sky of sunset. It was hailed by the other ships, and Hilell saluted, his handsome face smiling. His sailors shouted from the masts. The harbors were busily bustling against the night; lanterns began to appear in the swift twilight. A number of Roman soldiers stood idly watching the work, and their officer came running lightly to the dock as Hilell’s ship cast anchor. “Hilell!” he called, in a strong and delighted voice. “Greetings!” His helmet glowed like fire from the fast-falling sun, which shone redly on his strenuous, masculine face. He began to laugh, standing on the dock, his thumbs in his broad belt, his bare legs spread, his tunic rippling in the light wind. Then as the plank came out from the ship he jumped on it and ran aboard, laughing. Hilell fell into his arms, and they embraced.

“How did you know we were to arrive here?” asked Hilell. The Roman winked broadly, pretending not to see Lucanus and Arieh nearby. “How do I know?” he said. “I should like you to believe, you mystic Jew, that an angel bent and whispered in my ear, or that an oracle told me, or a priest mentioned it as he examined the entrails of a sacrificed animal. But no. It is my affair to know exactly where you have been sailing these past two months, and whom you have on board.”

He was no longer smiling. He turned abruptly to Lucanus, who was gazing at him intently. “You do not know me, Lucanus, son of Diodorus Cyrinus?” he asked in a grave and disappointed voice.

Lucanus started. He removed his elbows from the railing. “No!” he exclaimed. “It cannot be! Plotius!” And he gripped the arms of Plotius and could not speak.

Hilell regarded them with astonishment. Plotius said to him, “These Greeks! They are very emotional, though they pretend otherwise.” He held Lucanus off from him, and his soldier’s eyes were moist. “So. Here you are at last; here we meet once more. I was at Joppa two days ago, and there heard the ship would not land there.” He paused. “Lucanus,” he said, like one deeply stirred, “we never wrote to each other, but I always knew where you were, for Caesar had you under his protection.”

“I cannot believe it,” said Lucanus. “I am very happy! It is really you, Plotius, my dear friend, after all these years.” He laughed a little to conceal how moved he was; the blooming lanterns and the crimson torches swam before his eyes.

“I swear by Castor and Pollux you have not changed!” said Plotius. His hands were on Lucanus’ shoulders; he bent forward to examine his face. “You are still a young man, and you are old enough to have a gray beard.” He looked at Hilell and said, “This is our dear Hermes, who fled the arms of Julia, of whom I have told you,” and he laughed.

“Nor have you changed,” said Lucanus, somewhat mendaciously, for Plotius was broader and sturdier than he remembered, and had the heavy outlines of a man of forty-six, and his eyebrows, below the helmet, were threaded with gray.

“Hah!” said Plotius. “The gods have not given me the secret of eternal youth, as they have given you, my dear Lucanus. Under this helmet I have a bald pate; I rarely remove it, for I am afraid that as with Aeschylus an eagle will mistake my head for a stone and drop a tortoise upon it. I prefer, however, to remember that Pericles too was bald, and retained his helmet for that reason.” He laughed again, and his laughter boomed over the water. He embraced Lucanus once more, then slapped him on the back.

Lucanus introduced him to Arieh. “Yes, yes, I understand,” said Plotius, heartily. “I have heard of Arieh ben Elazar; the lawyers buzz about him in Jerusalem. I knew he was with you on this ship. Hilell, I am pleased to see that you are not sick, as was reported.”

“I am very well,” said the other man. “And now you must find us lodgings for the night, Plotius, for I intend to remain here a few days.”

Plotius’ face changed, became dark and inscrutable. He half turned aside. He did not look at Lucanus when he said, “It is all arranged, since we knew you would arrive here. Pontius Pilate has kindly offered his house for your use, as he will be in Jerusalem for some weeks. I believe he wishes to return to Rome, as his wife has been — disturbed — for some time.”