Barabbas (12 page)

One can’t very well be interested in what doesn’t exist, but after making this discovery the one-eyed man began talking to Sahak now and then to find out more about this extraordinary god. And Sahak explained it all to him as well as he could. He said that his god was everywhere, even in the dark. One could call on him anywhere at all and feel his presence. Why, one could even feel him inside one’s own breast, and that was the most blissful of all. The one-eyed man answered that it was really a remarkable lord he had.

—Yes, it is indeed, said Sahak.

The one-eyed man seemed to ponder a while over what he had heard, over Sahak’s invisible but obviously very powerful god, and then he asked if it was he who had helped them to get out of the mine?

—Yes, Sahak said. It was.

And he added that he was the god of all the oppressed and was going to free all slaves from their chains and redeem them. For Sahak wanted to proclaim his faith and felt that the other was longing to hear this.

—Oh? said the one-eyed man.

Sahak realized more and more that the little slave, whom no one could be bothered with and whose eye had been put out, wanted to hear about his and everyone’s salvation, and that it was the Lord’s will that he should speak to him about it. He therefore did so as often as possible, though Barabbas looked askance at them and seemed to disapprove. And at last, one evening when they were sitting by themselves on one of the millstones after the day’s work, he showed him his secret, the inscription on the back of his slave’s disk. It all really came about through the one-eyed man’s asking the unknown god’s name—provided this might be uttered—and then Sahak had told it to him, and to prove his Lord’s power and greatness had let him see the actual secret signs that stood for the holy name. The one-eyed man regarded the inscription with great interest and listened to Sahak’s story of the Greek slave who had engraved it and had understood the meaning of every stroke. It was incredible how anyone in his way could know the sign of God.

Sahak looked once more at the inscription and then turned it inwards again. And as he held it to his breast he said joyously that he was God’s own slave, that he belonged to him.

—Oh, said the one-eyed man.

And after a while he asked if the other one from the mines also had this inscription on his slave’s disk.

—Why, yes, said Sahak.

And the little man nodded and said yes, of course, though actually he had not been at all sure that they had quite the same faith and the same god, for this criminal
with the gash under his eye never prayed. They went on talking of this strange god, and did so several more times after this conversation, which Sahak felt had brought them very close to one another. He had done right in confiding his great secret to the other and it was surely the Lord himself who had inspired him to do so.

Great was the amazement in the mill when the slave-driver one morning announced that Sahak and Barabbas were summoned to appear before the governor himself at a certain time during the day. It was the first time such a thing had happened, at any rate in this slave-driver’s day, and he was just as amazed as any of the others and was quite at a loss to know what lay behind it all. Two wretched slaves in the actual presence of the Roman governor! He was to conduct them there and seemed a little anxious himself, as he had never before set foot inside the mighty one’s residence. However, it was hardly likely that he could have anything to do with the matter; he was only responsible for their getting there. At the appointed time they set off, and everyone in the mill stood gazing after them, even the little slave who resembled a rat and who couldn’t smile because he had a shrivelled-up mouth—he too stood gazing after them with his one eye.

Sahak and Barabbas would not have been able to find their own way through the narrow streets, which were completely strange to them. They followed immediately behind their slave-driver and kept close together, just as before. It was as if they had been chained together again.

Arrived at the great house, they were admitted through the carved cedar-wood doors by a magnificent
black slave who was fettered to the door-post. He merely showed them into the vestibule and handed them over to an officer on duty, who led them across a sunny courtyard to a medium-sized room that opened on to it. There they suddenly found themselves face to face with the Roman.

All three flung themselves down on their faces and touched the floor with their foreheads, as the slave-driver had dinned into them, though both Sahak and Barabbas considered it shameless to humble oneself like that in front of one who, after all, was only a human being. Not until they were told did they dare get up. The Roman, who was leaning back in a chair on the far side of the room, beckoned them to approach, which they did hesitantly, venturing by degrees to look up at him. He was a powerfully built man of about sixty with a plump but not flabby face, broad chin and a mouth that they quickly saw was wont to command. The eyes were sharply observant but not actually unfriendly. Oddly enough, there was nothing really frightening about him.

He enquired of the slave-driver first how the two slaves had conducted themselves, if he was satisfied with them. The man stammered out that he was, adding for safety’s sake that he always treated his slaves very severely. It was impossible to know whether his noble lord appreciated this; he threw a quick glance at the man’s fat body and dismissed him with a light wave of the hand—he could go. The man was far from having anything against this and instantly took his leave; in fact in his hurry he was so lacking in respect that he nearly turned his back on his lord.

The latter then turned to Sahak and Barabbas and
began asking them where they came from, what they had been punished for and how they had come up out of the mine, who had arranged it. The whole time he spoke quite kindly. Then getting up, he walked across the floor, and they were surprised to find that he was so tall. Going up to Sahak, he took hold of his slave’s disk, looked at the stamp on it and asked if he knew what it meant. Sahak replied that it was the stamp of the Roman State. The governor said with a nod that that was quite right, and that it therefore showed that Sahak belonged to the State. Then turning the metal disk over, he looked with evident interest, but with no sign of surprise, at the secret inscription on the back. “Christos Iesus” … he read, and both Sahak and Barabbas were filled with wonder that he could read the signs, decipher God’s holy name.

—Who is that? he asked.

—It is my god, Sahak answered with a slight tremor in his voice.

—Aha. It is a name I cannot remember having heard before. But then there are so many gods, one can’t keep track of them all. Is it the god of your native province?

—No, Sahak answered. It is everybody’s god.

—Everybody’s? You don’t say so? That’s not at all bad. And I have never even heard of him. He keeps his renown somewhat secret, if I may say so.

—Yes, said Sahak.

—Everybody’s god. In that case he must have more than a little power. What does he base it on?

—On love.

—Love?… Well, why not. Anyway, it’s no concern of mine, you may believe as you like about it. But tell me, why do you bear his name on your slave’s disk?

—Because I belong to him, Sahak said, again with a slight tremor.

—Indeed? Belong to him? How can you do that? Do you not belong to the State, just as this stamp signifies? Are you not a State slave?

Sahak made no reply. He merely stood looking down at the floor.

At last the Roman said, but not at all unkindly:

—You must answer this. We must be quite clear on this point, don’t you see? Do you belong to the State? Tell me now.

—I belong to the Lord my God, said Sahak, without looking up.

The governor stood regarding him. Then he lifted Sahak’s head and looked into his burnt-up face, the face that had been at the smelting-furnaces. He said nothing, and after a time, when he had seen what he wanted, he let go the other man’s chin.

Then he went and stood in front of Barabbas, and as he turned over his slave’s disk in the same way he asked:

—And you? Do you also believe in this loving god?

Barabbas made no reply.

—Tell me. Do you?

Barabbas shook his head.

—You don’t? Why do you bear his name on your disk then?

Barabbas was silent as before.

—Is he not your god? Isn’t that what the inscription means?

—I have no god, Barabbas answered at last, so softly that it could hardly be heard. But Sahak and the Roman both heard it. And Sahak gave him a look so full of despair, pain and amazement at his incredible words that Barabbas felt it pass right through him, right into his inmost being, even though he did not meet the other’s eyes.

The Roman too seemed surprised.

—But I don’t understand, he said. Why then do you bear this “Christos Iesus” carved on your disk?

—Because I want to believe, Barabbas said, without looking up at either of them.

The Roman looked at him, at his ravaged face and the gash under the eye; at the hard, coarse mouth, which still retained much of its strength. There was no expression in the face and he was not sure that he would find any there even if he lifted up the head as he had done with the other. Besides, it would never have occurred to him to do so with this man. Why? He didn’t know.

He turned again to Sahak.

—Do you grasp fully the implication of what you have said? That it means you are setting yourself up against Caesar? Do you not know that he too is a god and that it is to him you belong, his stamp you bear on your disk? And you say that you belong to another, unknown god, whose name you have carved on your disk to show that you are not Caesar’s but his. Is that not so?

—Yes, Sahak answered in a shaking voice, but it did not tremble as much as before.

—And you stick to this?

—Yes.

—But don’t you understand what you are letting yourself in for by doing so?

—Yes. I understand.

The Roman paused, thinking of this slave’s god, whom as a matter of fact he had heard spoken of quite a lot recently, this madman in Jerusalem who had himself died a slave’s death. “Loose all chains” … “God’s own slave, whom he will set free” … Anything but a harmless doctrine, in fact … And faces such as that slave’s had no appeal for a slave-owner.…

—If you renounce your faith no harm shall come to you, he said. Will you do it?

—I cannot, Sahak replied.

—Why not!

—I cannot deny my God.

—Extraordinary man … Surely you must be aware of the punishment you force me to sentence you to. Are you really so brave that you can die for your faith?

—That is not for me to decide, said Sahak quietly.

—That doesn’t sound so very brave. Is life not dear to you?

—Yes, answered Sahak. It is.

—But if you do not forswear this god of yours, nothing can save you. You will lose your life.

—I cannot lose the Lord my God.

The Roman shrugged his shoulders.

—Then there is nothing more I can do for you, he said, going over to the table at which he had been sitting when they came. He struck its marble top with a little ivory hammer.

—You are just as crazy as your god, he added, half to himself.

While they were waiting for the guard to come, the governor went up to Barabbas, turned the slave’s disk over, drew out his dagger and scratched the point of it across the words “Christos Iesus.”

—There’s really no need, as you don’t believe in him in any case, he said.

While this was happening Sahak looked at Barabbas with an expression that seared through him like fire and which he was never to forget.

And so Sahak was led away by the guard and Barabbas was left standing there. The governor commended him for his sensible behaviour and said that he wished to reward him for it. He was to report to the foreman of the slaves here in the house and have other and better work assigned to him.

Barabbas gave him a quick look and the Roman found that the man’s eyes did in fact have an expression, harmless though it was. Hatred was quivering there like the point of an arrow that would never be shot.

And so Barabbas went to do as he had been commanded.

W
hen Sahak was crucified Barabbas stood concealed behind some hibiscus bushes a little distance away, so that his friend on the cross should not be able to see him. But Sahak had already been tortured so much beforehand that he was unlikely to have been aware of him. This had been done from force of habit and because they had thought that the governor had simply forgotten to give the order. Actually the governor had not meant anything like that, though he had not bothered either to give an order to the contrary. And so for safety’s sake they had done as usual. What the slave was sentenced for they had no idea, nor did they care. They were doing this sort of thing continually.

Half of his head had been shaved again and the white hair was stained with blood. The face expressed nothing, really, but Barabbas who knew it so well understood
what it would have expressed had it been able. He stood gazing at it the whole time with burning eyes, if it can be said that eyes such as Barabbas’s are burning, and it could be said now. He also gazed at the emaciated body; he could not have torn himself away even if he had wanted to, and he didn’t want to. The body was so scraggy and feeble that it was hard to imagine what crime it could have committed. But on the chest, where every rib was visible, the State’s insignia were branded, to show that it was a case of high treason. The slave’s disk, on the other hand, had been removed for the sake of the metal and because it was no longer needed.

The place of execution was a small rise outside the town, surrounded here and there at the foot by one or two bushes and thickets. Behind one of these stood Barabbas the acquitted. Apart from him and those who had charge of the crucifixion there was not a soul there, no one had bothered to witness Sahak’s death. Otherwise people often collected, especially when the victim was guilty of a heinous crime. But Sahak had committed neither murder nor anything else, and nobody knew him or what he had done.