The Galilean Secret: A Novel (19 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE GREATEST FIGHT OF JUDAS ISCARIOT’S LIFE BEGAN ON A GRASSY TERRACE IN CAESAREA PHILIPPI. He was with Jesus of Nazareth and his inner circle of followers on the west side of the city. Simon the Canaanite handed him a wineskin of water. As Judas drank, he caught a glimpse of Mary Magdalene wiping her face with a towel. Intrigued by her eyes, he admired her lustrous hair, her full lips and breasts, and found himself wanting her.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. His thoughts spun as he helped the others clear away the small stones scattered on the terrace, which sat above an ancient Roman road. There were both men and women among the followers: the brothers Simon Peter and Andrew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; John and his brother James; Philip and Bartholomew; Thaddaeus and James, the son of Alphaeus; Mary Magdalene and Joanna; Martha and her sister Mary; Susanna and Mary, the wife of Clopas. As Judas tossed the stones aside, he glimpsed the cloudless sky and thought of Qumran.

And how Judith had slapped him.

Emboldened by his past successes with women, he had forced himself on her—and paid dearly.

When they finished clearing away the stones, he sat down, removed his sandals and angrily ground his teeth as he remembered Dismas attacking him and Barabbas exiling him to Mount Arbel. He doubted he would make the same mistake with Mary Magdalene. Mary wasn’t another man’s wife, as Judith had been, and though Mary was Jesus’ special friend, the Nazarene kept his distance from her. Judas was aware of the resemblance between the two women, although Mary Magdalene—the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—was older and more mature than Judith.

To calm himself, he drew a breath of the crisp early spring air. How could he be thinking of Mary like this when Jesus had shown him nothing but kindness? A fertile valley of marbled green lay below the road, but he didn’t really see its richness, let alone the whites and yellows of the budding trees and flowers. In his mind he saw only the fantasy of Mary’s nakedness, the image of them together in bed, with their bodies surrendered to each other.

Simon the Canaanite nudged him. Judas glanced up and saw Jesus approaching with a concerned expression on his sun-weathered face.

“You both look weary,” Jesus said, kneeling beside them.

Judas reached for his sandals and diverted his eyes. “You give us the refreshment we need, rabbi.”

Jesus laid a hand on Judas’ shoulder, causing him to look up. “Have you really been refreshed, Judas? Or are you saying what you think I want to hear?”

Judas’ cheeks grew hot as he felt Jesus staring right through him. Judas played with the thong of his sandal. “Rabbi, I always find your words refreshing, as do the masses. They believe that you’re the one who can free our nation.”

Jesus stood and smiled. “I pray that you will find the freedom I offer, Judas.” As Jesus moved on to talk with the other disciples, Judas watched him from behind. He told himself not to be jealous of Jesus’ relationship with Mary and his power over people, but the urge only got stronger and he had to look away.

Judas’ blistered feet were sore from the two-day journey from the Sea of Galilee, so he pulled them close and poured water over them, trying at the same time to wash the fantasies from his mind. He had never met a man as gentle and compassionate as Jesus. How could he even think of stealing Mary Magdalene from him? The water cooled his feet and soothed his blisters. He didn’t want to hurt Jesus, but his fantasies were like demons that possessed his mind, devouring his sanity and leaving him in torment.

The demons had struck early. After meeting the Nazarene on the Plain of Gennesaret and joining his disciples, Judas had become accustomed to the moaning of the sick, the chiming bells of the lepers, the thudding crutches of the lame. As their suffering turned to joy because of their healings, he was as awestruck as anyone. But when he noticed how attentive Mary Magdalene was to Jesus, Judas craved the attention for himself and began scheming to get it.

He withdrew a towel from the travel bag the women had given him. The other disciples were spreading their belongings on the grass and talking among themselves. He began to dry his feet and pondered how to win the acclaim of the masses and the power that came with it—the power to attract a woman of radiant beauty.

Mount Hermon rose majestically in the distance, its heights bathed in muted shades of amber and gray. He listened for the tumble of the headwaters of the Jordan nearby, but instead heard some of the men discussing what Jesus had done while teaching beside the Sea of Galilee.

Matthew, his dark eyes flashing, said, “I will never deny what I saw.”

The stout, broad-shouldered Thomas shook his head defiantly. “What you
think
you saw.”

Judas noticed Jesus moving toward the men and followed him as the women also gathered around.

Simon Peter, large and tanned like his brother, with piercing eyes and a beard the color of mahogany, said, “Anyone who can feed all those people with just a few loaves and fish is more than a man.”

Judas watched as Jesus slowly measured each face. “Who do people say that I am?” he asked. Everyone stared at him, surprised by the question.

Thomas darted his eyes around the group. “Some say you are John the Baptist.”

Matthew gestured with an expressive hand. “Others say you are Elijah.”

“Still others say you are Jeremiah or one of the prophets,” Andrew said.

Judas saw fire in Jesus’ eyes as he locked them on Peter’s. “But who do you say that I am?”

Peter became quiet for a moment and then answered boldly, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

Shocked by Peter’s words, Judas wanted to ask what they meant, but before he could speak, Jesus said, “Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” Judas moved closer, as did the other men and women. Jesus lowered his voice. “But you must not tell anyone who I am, for my time has not yet come.”

The disciples whispered about the healings and how they related to the claim that Jesus was the Messiah, but Judas barely heard them. He was too consumed by the storm raging within himself. A chill swept through him as his respect for Jesus clashed with his jealousy of him. The Nazarene had something he wanted—Mary Magdalene—and it didn’t matter that Judas had come to love him. He had to have her.

Judas’ knees became weak as violent images flooded his mind. He imagined strangling Jesus, or attacking him with a knife, or drowning him in the Jordan. With the Nazarene gone, Judas could become the admired and powerful one. He imagined himself on the throne in Jerusalem, wearing a king’s robes, giving orders to the servants, eating extravagant meals, and most of all, enjoying the favors of Mary Magdalene, his dazzling wife.

Where did these images come from? Judas didn’t know, nor could he break their hold on his mind. Horrified, he backed away from the others and walked aimlessly among the scattered belongings on the ground. Then he glanced back at Jesus and saw Mary Magdalene standing beside him. Judas tried to look away, but the sight of her held him: his fantasies became so vivid he could think of nothing else. Staring at her as he toyed with the ring that Helena had given him so many years ago, he longed to have the pleasures of his fantasies.

M
ary Magdalene blushed when she noticed Judas Iscariot staring at her. She diverted her eyes as he approached the circle of disciples, her pulse quickening. She glanced at Jesus and numbness spread out from her heart. Although she was standing beside him, she felt as far away as the windswept shores of Magdala. To have Jesus say that he loved her but couldn’t marry her was devastating. Didn’t he know that love and marriage belonged together? That a man shouldn’t profess one without offering the other?

She fought to control the anger that had been brewing since they talked at the Sea of Galilee. What could she do? Three weeks earlier she had fled for her aunt and uncle’s home. Now she couldn’t leave. Caesarea Philippi was farther from Jerusalem than Nain had been, and after being attacked on the road, she would never again travel alone.

Besides, she wanted to stay. Jesus had the support of the masses, and he was the only one who could bring peace to their troubled land. But she needed more than friendship from a man. She thirsted for love like a parched desert thirsts for rain.

Should she meet Judas’ gaze as he joined the circle, even though she still loved Jesus? How could she be interested in anyone else? The shadows were falling on Mount Hermon in the distance as she pondered the question. Judas, along with his friend Simon the Canaanite, whom Jesus had nicknamed “the Zealot,” had joined them two weeks earlier on the Plain of Gennesaret. She barely knew Judas, yet his attention intrigued her. Did she just want to become better acquainted with him? Or did she hope that his flirting would make Jesus jealous?

The latter motivation rang true. Making Jesus jealous might make his heart grow fonder. Then he might reconsider and decide to marry her after all.

She hesitated, vowing not to let her interest in Judas go too far. A ribbon of sweat began to form on her back. A voice inside was warning her to be careful, that she was taking a risk, but what else could she do?

She met Judas’ gaze.

He smiled, and for a moment she measured him cautiously. Then she smiled back. Embarrassed, she looked away but secretly welcomed his approach as the gathering broke up.

“Your smile caught my eye,” Judas said, holding out a hand and keeping his voice low. “It is most beautiful.”

Seeing the warmth in his confident dark eyes, she said, “You are too kind, sir.”

Judas gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m not kind, just observant and honest.” He drew her hand close and studied it. “Why would such a striking woman not be wearing a wedding ring?” He gently stroked the hand before letting it go. “You must be a discerning woman who hasn’t met the right man.”

Mary felt blood rush into her neck and cheeks, and changed the subject. “You and your friend are new to our group. What brought you to Jesus?”

“We saw the multitudes come to him and watched as he healed them and spoke of liberation.”

Enchanted by Judas’ smooth, evenly cadenced voice, she couldn’t turn away. His eyes held hers. He appeared oddly familiar, as if he were an old friend, and she felt no need for caution. “Jesus is a liberator,” she said. “He proclaims justice for the poor and promises that God’s reign will come soon.”

Judas’ casual manner turned formal and urgency laced his speech. “If Jesus is the Messiah, he will free our people. As he said, it’s best to keep this a secret now. If the Romans knew that the Messiah was among us, they would try to kill him. Even the pagans know they cannot stand against the anointed one of God.”

Mary stepped back, surprised by the confidence with which Judas spoke. She admired Jesus, but found it hard to believe the man was the Messiah. Before she could ask Judas to explain further, Jesus gathered the group around him and announced that he was taking Peter, James and John to Mount Hermon to pray after supper. He expected the rest of them to set up camp and share the good news about the kingdom of God in Caesarea Philippi.

With the sunset painting the sky pink and orange, the men sat down and the women began to pass around bread, cheese, figs and olives. Mary helped but avoided Judas. When she finished and joined the others on the grass, she glanced at him and felt a shiver of excitement. Her thoughts racing, she was relieved to hear Jesus’ calming voice. But her relief turned to alarm when he said, “When I return, I must go to Jerusalem to cleanse the Temple. I will endure great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the scribes.” He paused as a hush fell over the group. “Then I will be killed, and after three days rise again.”

Mary covered her mouth in shock and terror. How could he be saying this? The people needed him more than ever. If he thought his life would be threatened in Jerusalem, he must not go. She was ready to tell him this when she noticed Peter’s sun-bronzed face going pale. He stood, straightened his large body to its full height and glared at Jesus. “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”

Mary was glad that Peter had expressed what she felt, but she became alarmed when Jesus stopped eating and met Peter’s gaze. “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block for me; for you are setting your mind not on the divine but on the human.” Jesus surveyed the entire group. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their lives will lose them, and those who lose their lives for my sake will find them. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their lives? Or what will they give in return for their lives?”

In response to Jesus’ words, the group grew somber and continued eating in silence. Mary crossed her arms to keep from shaking. Tears clouded her vision. If suffering awaited Jesus in Jerusalem, why did he insist on going there? Was he incapable of choosing happiness over hardship? He could have married her and lived peacefully in Galilee. Instead he wanted to go to Jerusalem and provoke a confrontation with the religious and political authorities that he couldn’t possibly win.

Her hand trembled as she ran it through her hair. Why was Jesus so reckless? Didn’t he realize what he was giving up? Her head was pounding. The back of her neck felt hot. If he wanted to destroy himself, she couldn’t stop him. It was his choice. But she refused to destroy herself with him. Judas was ready to fill the void. Perhaps if Jesus saw them together, he would become jealous and want her again.