The Galilean Secret: A Novel (20 page)

BOOK: The Galilean Secret: A Novel
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The other women were taking their mats and blankets and going up the hill, where they would sleep apart from the men. The air was warm and the sky clear, so they didn’t need tents. She picked up her bag and began to follow them. Someone squeezed her hand. She turned and saw Judas. He smiled and whispered, “I’ll come for you later. There’s something I want to show you.”

 

She hesitated, unsettled by the smoldering passion she saw in his eyes. She must not let him know why she would go with him. If he found out, he could become enraged, and she would lose both men—and her sanity as well. She squeezed his hand and hurried to catch up with the other women.

 

J
udas slipped into the group of disciples and prayed that none of them had noticed he was gone. He drew several quick breaths to slow his heart, but it kept beating out of control. He hoped that no one would ask him questions or make him speak because he couldn’t. It was as if Mary Magdalene had entered his body. Her naked image danced behind his eyes. He could smell her lemony scent, feel her soft skin, hear her gentle voice. His blood ran hot and wild, as if he had been dead and was miraculously raised to life.

Thankfully the others knew nothing of what he was feeling. They were distracted by Peter, James and John leaving with Jesus. The four of them were starting up the dusty road below the terrace that led northeast toward Mount Hermon in the distance. As they disappeared from sight, Judas heard Andrew say, “The rabbi is determined to go to Jerusalem. I hope that my brother and James and John will persuade him to stay. If Jesus wants to live, Jerusalem is the last place he should go.”

 

Judas edged forward, eager to hear the response to Andrew’s comment, and pondered how to take advantage of Jesus’ plan to cleanse the Temple.

 

The slender Nathanael held up a hand. “Let’s tell the rabbi that we won’t go with him.”

 

Thomas made no attempt to hide his irritation. “What good would that do? He’s stubborn enough to go without us.”

 

Hearing the disciples’ conversation gave Judas an idea. He would convince them that he had a plan for protecting Jesus, but the plan would actually endanger him. He stepped forward and eyed the eight men. “If Jesus is determined to go to Jerusalem, then we must keep him from harm. I have friends there who are rebel fighters. I’ll go to the city and hire some of them to protect him.”

 

Matthew shot him a suspicious glance. “And why would we trust you to do this?”

 

Judas didn’t answer immediately, continuing to formulate his plan. He knew that the resistance fighters would be hiding in Zedekiah’s Cave in northwestern Jerusalem; before leaving for Qumran he had hid there himself. He would go and tell them that Jesus was coming and bringing the crowds with him. If the Zealots waited to attack the Romans until Jesus was in the city, Pilate would think the Nazarene was one of them and kill him with the rebels. It was the perfect scheme for Judas: he could present himself as Jesus’ protector while arranging to get rid of him.

 

He drew a breath and spoke confidently. “I can’t prove that I’m worthy of your trust, but I’m willing to travel to Jerusalem alone. It’s a dangerous journey, and I could leave and go back to Mount Arbel, but instead I’m offering to help.”

 

The lean, stubble-bearded Philip glared at Matthew. “We don’t have the luxury of questioning Judas. We have no plan of our own, and we can’t let Jesus go to Jerusalem unprotected. Unless someone has a better idea, I say we give Judas money and send him on his way.”

 

Judas felt his stomach flutter. His plan was going better than he expected. The disciples were so concerned about the dangers in Jerusalem that they weren’t even suspicious of him.

 

Philip walked over and stood in front of Matthew. “We need to act before Peter, James and John return—they might disapprove.” Philip held out his hand. “You’ve been carrying the moneybag, Matthew. I suggest we give enough to Judas so the Zealots will know he has sufficient funds to hire them.”

 

Matthew wrapped his arms around the leather bag and held it to his chest. “This is a risky plan.” He shook an accusing finger at Judas. “If we give this man money, we may never see him again.”

 

Judas feared that the conversation was turning against him and knew he must do something dramatic to win their trust. He took off the ring that Helena had given him. “Here, take this. It’s my most valuable possession. I would rather die than lose it.”

 

Nathanael approached and accepted the ring before turning to the others. “I agree with Philip. We have no alternative but to accept Judas’ offer. If he wants to see his ring again, he’ll meet us in Jericho before we go to Jerusalem.” Nathanael went to Matthew and handed him the ring. Only then did Matthew reluctantly give him the moneybag. “We’re relying on you, Judas,” Nathanael said as he handed him the bag.

 

Judas tucked the moneybag inside his tunic. “I’ll prove myself worthy of your trust.” As he spoke the words, the image of a naked Mary Magdalene pulsated in his mind, her soft lips held up to kiss him. He would lead Jesus into a trap from which he couldn’t escape, and once the Nazarene was gone, Judas would have Mary Magdalene. He held the moneybag against his breast and contemplated his great luck.

 

M
ary Magdalene couldn’t sleep. As she gazed into the heavens, the moon and stars appeared farther away than she remembered. Hearing Jesus predict his suffering and death, she felt as if the air had been forced out of her lungs. She was being suffocated by fear and confusion.

All she wanted was to share her life with the man she loved, but that dream had just about slipped away, and now she wondered what to do about Judas. Why was she eager to have Judas come for her? Was she attracted to him but afraid to admit it? It was too much to ponder. All she could do was proceed with her plan and hope it was not too late to save Jesus.

 

The other women were asleep; she didn’t want to wake them, so she lay perfectly still. When she felt someone shaking her arm, she sat up and peered into the seductively appealing face of Judas Iscariot. “Come with me,” he said, gently pulling her arm. “There’s something I want to show you, and we don’t have much time.”

 

Mary glanced at the full moon, its distant glow bathing the camp in soft light. “Come with you where?”

 

“Please, don’t make any noise or wake anyone. Just follow me.”

 

Afraid of getting caught with a man at night, she hesitated, but in Judas’ glistening eyes she saw an earnestness and intensity that intrigued her. She couldn’t say no. After slipping her sandals on, she followed him down the sloping terrace toward the sound of water rushing in the distance. Her eyes gradually adjusted, and she could see that Judas was leading her toward a rugged hillside. As they approached it, she saw a wide cavity at its base, abrupt and deep and full of water. Judas pointed and said, “From these springs the mighty Jordan begins to flow.”

 

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

 

“Because I saw desire in your eyes—the same desire I feel for you.”

 

Mary’s knees felt weak; her stomach became queasy. Judas smiled, and she turned away, but he reached for her chin and coaxed it back toward him. “I had to bring you here, Mary. I wanted you to see the headwaters of the Jordan in the moonlight. This river belongs to our people, as does Jerusalem. I’m leaving tomorrow to go there. If Jesus is the Messiah, he’ll take the city back from the Romans, but without protection he’ll certainly be killed. I spoke to the others and offered to travel ahead and arrange for the Zealots to guard him. Afterward I’ll wait in Jericho and go up to Jerusalem with Jesus.” He stepped back and studied her. “Most of all, I wanted to see your beauty reflected in the water.”

 

Flattered, she couldn’t help smiling. When her lips parted, Judas leaned forward and kissed her, slowly, deeply. She felt the hardened muscles of his chest and caught a whiff of his cinnamon-like scent. She had forgotten what a sweet pleasure kisses were, how warm and tangy and full of delight. At the same time she thought,
What am I doing? Judas is leaving for Jerusalem, and now Jesus has predicted his own death.

 

She should withdraw from Judas and run back to camp, but the power of her feelings surprised her. She hadn’t expected to want Judas, and wondered if the feelings were real, or if she wanted him only because she couldn’t have Jesus. She felt as if the roar of the Jordan had penetrated her body and lodged in her heart, its rapids treacherous.

 

The sound reminded her of a storm approaching on the Sea of Galilee. She was a girl again, running barefoot on the beach in Magdala, the sand wet beneath her feet, the wind strong against her face, the waves pounding in her ears. It seemed that she had forever to live, and each day would be happier than the last. It was as if she had never been married, never divorced, never disappointed in love. Only this moment was real.

 

Desperate to make it last, she leaned into Judas’ embrace. His arms felt warm around her, his caresses gentle, and she tasted the sweetness of his lips. As she surrendered to the kiss in the pale moonlight, with the headwaters of the Jordan roaring in her ears, she forgot about Jesus.

 

Only Judas mattered.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Present Day

 

Matters of the heart defy easy answers. Amid the upheavals of attraction or the struggles of relating to a partner, one may wonder whether any answers exist. They do. But finding them requires ongoing inner work. This is the work of exploring family histories, understanding wounds from previous relationships, embracing one’s uniqueness as a man or a woman. Most of all, it’s the work of seeking God’s grace when coping strategies fail. And finding this grace sufficient.

—Brother Gregory Andreou’s Journal

Holy Angels Monastery

Thursday, April 4

KARIM BECAME AFRAID WHEN BROTHER GREGORY DIDN’T ANSWER HIS DOOR. He kept knocking, suspecting something was wrong. He glanced at Rachel, her face barely visible in the darkness, and felt his marrow harden to stone at the thought of harm coming to his friend. Karim stopped knocking and shot Rachel a frantic look. He wished they had left the university an hour earlier when he had texted Brother Gregory. But it had been too light to flee the boiler room without getting caught. By waiting until dark, they had crept through the university’s maze of buildings and walkways and made it back to the Jeep without being seen. Now he feared that Kenyon had beaten them to the monastery and harmed Brother Gregory.

 

Karim moved a few steps to his left, grabbed the wooden window frame and pulled himself up to get a better look. All he saw through the glass was thick darkness. “He can’t take this long to answer a door.”

 

“Let’s go find someone with a key,” Rachel said.

 

Karim rapped once more and waited a moment. Hearing no response, he and Rachel started up the walkway in front of the monks’ apartments. He thought of Robert Kenyon. Of whether seeing Karim at the university had prompted him to come looking for Brother Gregory’s latest translation. Karim considered calling the police but decided he couldn’t risk revealing his identity. The PPA was strong in Bethlehem: word of his whereabouts would reach his father. Besides, without physical evidence that an upstanding professor had attacked him, the police wouldn’t believe his story. His heart pounded in his throat. No matter what happened, he had to find out what Judith of Jerusalem had written in her diary.

 

After they had passed several apartments, Rachel said, “About what happened in the boiler room . . . The kiss took me by surprise.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“I’ve never kissed a Palestinian before.”

 

“Nor I an Israeli . . . It was wonderful.”

 

Rachel latched on to his arm. “It’s all so new and, honestly, dangerous. You heard Ezra’s warning. Now Brother Gregory has turned up missing.” She pulled to a stop. “Karim, I’m scared.”

 

He put an arm around her. “If we think about the dangers, our relationship and our search for the truth about the Jesus letter will be over. We can’t change our parents or our religions or the history of this land. All we can do is trust what’s in our hearts and accomplish what we can for peace.”

 

She ran a hand along his cheek and studied him as he held her gaze. They stood like that for a moment longer, and then, as though they both knew they needed to be careful, they hurried down the walkway.

 

Karim led her to the abbot’s apartment. Finding it dark, he knocked and waited. When a light finally came on, Abbot Zeno answered. “It is after nine. What are you doing here at this hour?” He turned his gaze toward Rachel. “And why have you brought a woman to the monastery?”

 

“This is my friend Rachel Sharett,” Karim said. “I can tell you about her later, but right now we’re concerned about Brother Gregory. We have been knocking on his door, but he doesn’t answer.”

 

Abbot Zeno stroked his thick salt-and-pepper beard. “Perhaps he went to bed early. He is getting older and losing his hearing.”

 

Karim shook his head impatiently. “I knocked long and hard. If he were home, he would have heard me.”

 

The abbot disappeared into his apartment and returned with a set of keys. “You have me worried. We must make sure that our dear brother is all right.”

 

Karim and Rachel followed the abbot back to Brother Gregory’s apartment. The abbot appeared calm, but Karim’s thoughts spun a dreadful scenario. Thieves could have broken in. He imagined finding Brother Gregory beaten or even dead.

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