Christ the Lord - Anne Rice [60]
“Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand,” he declared, each time as though it were the first, and those around him took up the saying, until we soon perceived it was a very chanting, a chanting that mingled in timbre and pitch from time to time with the random and ceaseless confessions.
Jason and the young men stood back, arms folded, watching. But one by one my brothers went down, stripping off their robes, and entered into the water.
I saw James go down under the current and rise up slowly as John, his face unchanged by any conceivable recognition, poured a conch of water over his head.
Joses, Judas, and Simon moved towards the disciples, their sons and nephews moving with them. Menachim had taken Little Isaac by the hand and led him down close beside him as he seemed wary of the spongy earth and the dense reeds, and the river itself though the depth of it didn't rise above the knees of those who stood in it.
A high tent mounted on four ornate poles flapped in the wind loudly as the gray clouds glided over the radiant sun. Out of it came a rich toll collector, a man I knew in passing only from the inevitable journeys to work or visit in Capernaum.
He stood beside me, staring at the great shifting mass of the baptizers and the baptized, and indeed the core of the crowd seemed to swell and stretch out to the right and left as we watched it.
Out of the gathering behind us, thrusting himself between us, came a Pharisee, beautifully garbed and with a long white beard, and beside him two men who were obviously Priests in their finest linen garments.
“By whose authority do you do this!” demanded the white-bearded Pharisee. “Come now, John bar Zechariah. If you are not Elijah, then who are you that you draw men here for the forgiveness of sins? Who are your disciples?”
John stopped and looked up.
The sun behind the gray clouds made John squint as he tried to pick out the man who was challenging him. His eyes passed over me and the toll collector.
Again the Pharisee declared, “By whose authority do you dare to bring these people here.”
“Bring them? I haven't brought them!” John answered. His voice rang out effortlessly over the entire throng. He drew in his breath as one used to speaking above noise or wind.
“I've told you. I am not Elijah. I am not the Christ. I have told you that He who comes after me is before me!” He appeared to gain strength as he spoke.
The disciples went on baptizing the pilgrims.
I saw Avigail, fully robed, descend into the river. I realized the young man who beckoned to her, who lifted his conch and directed her to kneel in the water, was in fact my young cousin John bar Zebedee. There he was, in his wet and clinging robes, his hair long and unkempt, a boy of twenty beside the man who cried out now for all to hear:
“I tell you again, you are a brood of vipers! And you will not be safe declaring yourselves the sons of Abraham. I tell you the Lord can raise up sons of Abraham from these very stones. Even as I stand here, the axe is being laid to the root of the tree. Every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down, and cast into the fire!”
All throughout the crowd people looked to the Rabbis and the Priests who were moving forward at the sound of John's voice.
Jason called out suddenly,
“But John, whence comes your authority to declare these things to us! This is what all men want to know.”
John looked up, but did not appear to recognize Jason any more than he recognized any particular man, and he answered:
“Haven't I told you? I will tell you again. ‘I'm the voice of one crying in the wilderness, “Make ready the way of the Lord, make His paths straight. Every ravine shall be filled, and every mountain and hill will be brought low; the crooked will become straight, and the rough roads smooth . . . and all flesh will see the salvation of God!” ’ ”
It seemed to the farthest reaches the crowd could hear him. People cried out in thanks, and more and more went down into the river. Jason