Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [298]
Largest of all was the image of Yeshua on the wall behind the altar itself.
As in Miroslav, there was a cross hanging there, although this one was gilded and shone brightly in the filtered winter light. Above it, his feet nearly resting atop the vertical beam, was Yeshua. He dwarfed the instrument of his mortal death and loomed above us, his head stretching toward the vaulted ceiling. In one hand, he held a book. In the other, he held a naked sword. He had a neatly trimmed beard and hot, staring eyes. His expression was stern and challenging.
He did not look like a god one might call a friend.
Atop the dais, Rebbe Avraham stood waiting. His simple black robes were gone, replaced by stiff garments glittering with gems and gold stitching. His face was solemn and unreadable. There were a pair of priests flanking him, only slightly less ornately attired. One looked to be Habiru; the other, Vralian. Grand Prince Tadeuz Vral stood a step below him, still elevated above the masses. He was dressed in a plain soldier's livery, except it was adorned with a heavy, gem-encrusted sash of gilded leather from which an ornamental scabbard hung. His chin was raised, and beneath his fur-trimmed crown his strong-boned face was as stern as Yeshua's.
Somewhere in a distant tower, a resonant horn blew.
The doors at the far end of the temple opened. The two priests flanking the Rebbe began to sing a hymn of praise; first in Habiru, then in Rus, one echoing the other. A company of Vralian soldiers strode into the temple, led by Micah ben Ximon, who stopped to stand below Tadeuz Vral. At ben Ximon's signal, his men divided and formed an aisle.
The pilgrims entered in a long line.
All of them, whatever their stature, had been given a crude garment of undyed sackcloth to wear over their attire. I watched them enter; watched expressions of surly rebellion give way to careful neutrality in the presence of Tadeuz Vral. When the first reached the dais and sank to his knees, the cantors ceased to sing. A living, breathing silence fell over the temple. Rebbe Avraham ben David stood very still, his grey head bowed.
He had doubts; I knew he did. He had spoken of them to me. And I knew, too, that he had spoken with Phèdre after our audience with Prince Tadeuz, yearning to hear the tale of the woman who had been given the Name of God in distant Saba by a priest of the Lost Tribe of the Habiru. I glanced at her. She was watching the Rebbe, her eyes dark and somber. When he lifted his head with gathering resolve, she looked away. Joscelin, who knew her best, slid his arm around her waist.
"We are gathered here today to give praise to Adonai and his son Yeshua for the victory they have granted us," the Rebbe said in a strong, firm voice. "And to welcome our new brothers and sisters into the fold of true faith.”
So it began.
One by one, each of the pilgrims approached the altar. Each knelt and swore faith, repeated the words Avraham ben David gave them. Each bowed his or her head to Tadeuz Vral and pledged loyalty, kissing the point of his extended sword.
It went on for a long, long time. There were a thousand pilgrims. When each was done, the Vralian soldiers directed them wordlessly to kneel in the temple, awaiting the finish. I didn't envy them. I grew restless from standing for so long, my feet aching. It must have been worse to kneel on the cold marble floor. Still, they did it.
They were the defeated; they had no choice.
The others must have grown weary, too. Of a surety, the Vralian nobility grew bored and tempted to whisper among themselves. I caught Micah ben Ximon shifting, and one of the priests yawned a few times. But the Rebbe's voice never faltered. One by one, he accepted their oaths, treating each with as much solemnity as though it was the first. As for Tadeuz Vral, he stood straight-backed and tall, holding his sword extended. It never wavered. His face was suffused with a complex mixture of humility and rapture.
I nearly envied him.
It must be a glorious thing, I thought, to be so sure. Sure of one's rightness and rectitude;