Christ the Lord - Anne Rice [85]
“My lord, it's done,” said the first of the servants as he stood beside the row of jars. I gestured to a nearby tray of goblets, only one of many throughout the room.
I heard in my mind the voice of the Tempter in the desert. A delusion! . . . Why, even Elijah could have managed that!
I looked at the head servant. I saw the tension and near desperation in his eyes. I saw the fear in the faces of the others.
“Draw now from the jar and fill that cup,” I said. “Take it to Jason, the friend of the bridegroom who sits beside the master. Is he not the master of the feast?”
“Yes, my lord,” the servant answered wearily. He put the dipper into the jar. He let out a long low gasp.
The red wine shone in the light of the candles. The disciples stared as the wine flowed down from the dipper into the goblet in the servant's hand.
I felt the coolness come over my skin that I'd felt at the Jordan River. I felt a faint near-delicious sizzling sensation. Then it was gone as quickly and silently as it had come.
“Take it to him,” I said to the servant. I pointed to Jason.
My uncle was unable to laugh, or speak. The disciples seemed to collectively hold their breath.
The servant hurried into the banquet room and around the table. He thrust the goblet into Jason's hand.
I let the words reach me through the noise of the throng.
“The wine that's just come,” said the servant, trembling, almost unable to form the words.
Jason took a deep drink of it without hesitating.
“My lord!” he said to Hananel. “You've done the most splendid trick.” He stood up. Drank more from the cup. “Most men wait until the first wine's done its work, only to bring out the lesser vintage. You've saved the best wine for last.”
Hananel stared up at him.
In a small cold voice, he said,
“Give me that cup.”
Jason didn't notice the coldness. He was already arguing with Nathanael again, but Nathanael was staring across the table and beyond, at those of us gathered in the courtyard by the jars.
Hananel drank. He sat back. We looked at one another over the distance.
The servants were hurrying to the jars and ladling the wine into the empty cups and goblets. Tray after tray was being taken to the banquet tables and rugs.
No one saw Hananel looking at me, except for Nathanael. Nathanael rose slowly and came towards us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother leave her post at the door of the banquet room and disappear behind the thin veils of gauze.
Young John kissed my hand. Peter knelt and kissed my hand. The others gathered to kiss my hand.
“No, stop this,” I said. “You must not do this.”
I turned and I went out of the courtyard, through the foyer, and into the open garden away from the revelers. I walked until I was in the farthest corner of the walled orchard from which I could see the rooms of the women flanking this side of the house. The arches were filled with pulsing light.
All the disciples were now clustered around me. James headed towards me and so did my younger brothers.
Cleopas came and stood before me.
Jason and Nathanael and Matthew came out, Matthew arguing forcefully with Young John and with one of the servants, a very young boy, who fell back now, shyly, bowing his head and backing away.
“I tell you, I don't believe it!” said Matthew.
“What do you mean, you don't believe it!” declared Young John. “I saw it. I saw them take the jars to the well. I saw them bring the jars back. I talked to them. I saw their faces. I saw it. How can you stand there and say you don't believe it?”
“That explains how you believe it,” said Jason, “but not how we are to believe it.” He rushed up to me, forcing the others out of the way. “Yeshua, do you claim to have done this, to have changed those six jars of water into wine?”
“How dare you put that question to him!” said Peter. “How many witnesses does this require for you to believe? We stood there.