Christ the Lord - Anne Rice [61]
I saw James come up the bank, his long loose hair still very wet, and he reached out for Joseph—and James and my mother took Joseph down together.
The toll collector watched as this aged man made his descent.
John received Joseph himself, though again I saw no recognition in John's eyes of this man and this woman who stood before him. They entered the water as everyone else was doing; and over their heads he poured the water from his conch.
Shouts greeted him again from the crowd.
This time it was Shemayah who burst out suddenly, as though he couldn't contain himself:
“Then what are we to do!”
“Need I tell you?” John answered. He drew back and once again raised his voice with the effortless power of an orator. “The man among you who has two tunics is to share with the man who has none; and those of you who have food are to give it to those who have nothing!”
Suddenly the young toll collector beside me called out, “Teacher, what shall we do!” People turned their heads to see who put this passionate question, so much from his own heart.
“Ah, collect no more than what you have been ordered to collect,” John responded. A huge wave of approving murmurs moved through those on the banks. The toll collector nodded his head.
But the King's soldiers were now stepping forward. “And what do you say to us, Teacher!” one shouted. “Tell us, what can we do?”
John looked up at them, squinting once more against the silvery clouded sun. “Don't take money by force, that's what you can do. And never accuse anyone falsely, and be content with your wages.”
Again came the nods and murmurs of approval.
“I tell you, the One coming after me already has His winnowing fork in His hand to clear His threshing floor, and to gather His wheat into the barn, or to burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”
Many went down who'd not done so before, but a huge commotion shook the crowd suddenly. People were turning, and there were cries of amazement.
Far to the right and above me on the slope there appeared a large group of soldiers, and out of their midst there strode one quite recognizable figure, stunning everyone to silence as he approached the bank over the river. The soldiers beat back the very grass for him, and held up the edges of his long purple cloak.
It was Herod Antipas. Seldom had I ever seen him so close to me as he stood now—a tall man, impressive by anyone's standards, and gentle eyed as he looked down in wonder on the man baptizing in the middle of the river.
“John bar Zechariah,” the King cried. An uneven and rapid hush fell over all those who saw him, all who heard his voice.
John looked up. Again he squinted. Then he raised his hand to shade his eyes.
“What is it that I must do?” the King cried out. “Tell me. How must I repent?”
The King's face was narrow and grave, but there was no mockery in him, only an intense focus.
John didn't speak for a moment and then in a huge voice he replied.
“Give up your brother's wife. She is not your wife. You know the law! Are you not a Jew?”
The crowd was shocked. The soldiers drew in close to the King as if anticipating a command, but the King himself was very still, and only watched as John reached out now to take the shoulders of my beloved Joseph, and help him up out of the water.
The toll collector started towards my mother and James, in order to give them assistance. Then he tossed off his rich mantle, and let it fall like any common wool robe, and he stepped before John and went down on his knees as all the others had done before him.
Joseph watched as the toll collector dipped his head and came up, wiping the water away from his face. The droplets clung to his oiled and gleaming hair.
The King stood impassive on the bluff, and then without a word, he turned, and disappeared into the ranks of his soldiers, and the entire flock, with sparkling gold-tipped lances and rounded shields, moved out of sight and was swallowed by the pilgrims coming towards us.
Dozens of men and women headed towards the water.
I saw Joseph staring up at me,