Centurion: Mark's Gospel as a Thriller (25 page)

A single shot rings out loudly above our heads, and the melee grinds to a halt.

It's the Teacher who brings order to the chaos, saying, "Petra! Put down your weapon." Blood drips from the Teacher's nose and runs into his mouth when speaks. His cheek is swollen. He cranes his heads toward the religious authorities, who stand safely behind the wall of their armed guards, and says, "Have you come out with guns to arrest me, as though I were a criminal, some kind of bandit? Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching and you didn't arrest me. But let the scriptures be fulfilled."

Petra's face says it all. It's as though every hope and dream he's ever had has been dashed against the rocks. He's a man watching his house burn to the ground. He looks crestfallen, totally dejected. The Teacher isn't the messiah Petra desperately hoped he would be. The mighty warrior is supposed to cut off King Charles's head, not allow a few old men drag him away into night.

In this sense I feel Jude and I have done the other students a favor. We're exposing the Teacher for who he is. He's a great and peaceful holy man—make no mistake about it. He works miracles. He gives hope to the downtrodden.

But he isn't a messiah. He won't—and can't—deliver the people from their bondage.

Only I can do that.

A guard punches Petra in the stomach, and he drops the knife as he falls to his knees. The armed men laugh. Fat Belly and Gray Beard slap each other on the back. They're delighted as schoolboys on the first evening of summer.

Maria panics as we flee the garden for the darkness of the surrounding woods. I guide her hurriedly, and we both trip and stumble over hallowed logs and knotty roots. In tears she says, "Where have they gone?"

"I don't know. Don't worry; they won't hurt him. They promised me."

"Not the Teacher," she says, catching herself on a tree stump.

"Who?"

"My brothers!"

I stop running and peer back into the garden. I can't believe my eyes.

As the guards drag the Teacher away from the garden and toward the Holy City, not a single student, other than Petra, remains.

All of them, in this dark hour, have abandoned the Teacher.

aria thrashes against my chest, begging for me to let her go. She wants to chase after the guards, to go and find where they're taking the Teacher. She swears she'll never forgive me if I let something happen to him.

Nothing I say can make it better. But I won't release her.

Petra picks himself up from the ground, and Maria calls to him as I drag her away. "Follow them, Petra!" she says. "Don't let them hurt him!"

Petra points at me. "You did this, didn't you? I'll kill you, Deacon—you and Jude!" Then he turns and runs off into the night. Petra is the only student—other than Maria—brave enough to follow the Teacher toward danger.

Maria's tears dry up.

"Did you?" she says. Her voice is cold as ice water.

"Did I what?" I say, leading her back into the garden, where I kneel to pick up Petra's knife. It's a switchblade, and I have no clue where he got it. I fold the blade into the sheath and slide the knife beneath the bandage on my sprained wrist. Two weapons are better than one.

"Deacon! Did you? Answer me!"

"What?" I repeat. As we walk, I keep my eyes peeled wide for Alejandro. He's still in these woods, watching us. I can feel it. His demons have returned. Legion is back.

"What Petra said!" Maria cries. "Did you have something to do with this? Did you tell them where we were?"

I know better than to immediately answer her. I decisively lead her farther into the woods. Finally, when I'm certain of what I want to say, and certain she'd be lost without me, I speak. "Don't you see, Maria? Look back into the garden. Where is everyone? Where have all the students gone? It's just you and me."

"I don't know, and I don't care."

"These men aren't made to fight," I say. "And that's OK. Neither is the Teacher."

We duck under a low branch.

"Did you betray him?"

"Maria..."

"Answer me. Now."

She teeters on the edge; our relationship hangs in the balance. One wrong move and this woman, who's as loyal as the moon, will be gone. A deep current runs in her, and I know that if she decides to leave me, I won't be able to stop her. If she believes I've conspired against the Teacher, she'll leave me no matter what.

"I allowed this to happen for his protection."

Maria slaps me hard across the face.

It stings, but I try not to show it. Tears well in the corners of my eyes. I stand firmly at attention, staring straight into her black eyes.

She does it again.

I flex my jaw, grimace, and absorb the pain. It feels like a match lit against my cheek. She's a surprisingly strong woman. My pain is made much worse by the fact that my face is already bruised from the beatings I've taken this past week.

A long moment passes between us.

Finally she says, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't hit you. I shouldn't strike anyone."

"No...it's all right. I deserve it."

Maria pulls her hair from her face and wipes her eyes.

"The religious authorities want him dead," I say matter-of-factly. "The spectacle at the temple was too much. He's broken nearly every law in their book. They weren't going to allow it for much longer. I know this is difficult for you to understand, but the best way to protect the Teacher was to hand him over. Were he to continue preaching tomorrow, they could have gone to the Kingdom and demanded his arrest for being a rebel. Do you have any idea what would happen if they charged him with that?"

Maria nods sharply.

"But do you really?" I say.

"Yes."

"Tell me. I want you to say the words."

"The cross."

"That's right." I take her teary face in the palms of my hands. "They'd hang him on a Kingdom cross. Is that what you want? For your beloved Teacher to die from the cruelest form of death ever devised?"

"Of course not. But what makes you think they won't hurt him tonight?"

"It's the eve of the Great Festival. To try him tonight would violate our religious laws. There can be no trial until sunrise. But that will never happen. They're going to lock him up until the Great Festival is over. Can you imagine the scandal of a midnight trial of the Teacher? The people would stone the religious authorities for such an atrocity. Nothing will happen tonight, I swear it."

"And then what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because tomorrow night, when all this is over, you and I will find the Teacher and walk straight out of the Holy City—together—with an army behind us."

"No. They're never going to let him go. When the festival is over, they'll torture him."

"No they won't," I tell her.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because," I say, my chest welling with pride, "they won't be able to."

"Why not?"

"They'll be dead."

aria hates the plan.

She says I'm risking my very soul by waging war during the Great Festival—not to mention the fact that I plan on killing holy men. No matter how noble the cause, the ends—she argues—don't justify the means.

She's wrong. But I understand she can't see that tonight. It's far too late, and there's still far too much for me to do. But when the dust settles, and this city's streets are flooded with the blood of our enemies, she'll see the light.

I drop her off at the safe house Henrik has prepared for us. It's a cramped apartment on the top floor of a formidable high-rise. Built twenty years ago, the building is half filled with occupants. The apartment has running water, canned food, and a twin bed I'm told is comfortable for sleeping. The high-rise is situated miles from where the battle will take place. It's as safe a hideout as can be within Holy City limits. Henrik has assured us that most of the occupants are Kingdom citizens, meaning the building will be fortified should things run sideways. But I've already planned for that. My men are aware that Maria will be here and will keep this in mind when the fighting heats up. Under no circumstances will this building be attacked.

I feel good about leaving her here.

I make Maria promise she won't leave the building until I come for her. It takes a full hour of coaxing before she agrees. There are many tears and countless declarations that I'm misguided, that I'm damned. She continues to teeter on the edge. In one moment I'm convinced she'd follow me to hell. In the next I think it wise to barricade the door.

But in the end she chooses to stay.

"I love you, Deacon," she says.

"I love you too, Maria."

She breaks down again. I hold her close until the storm passes.

"Why didn't the Teacher fight back?" she asks. "Why did he let them take him? He's so powerful. We've witnessed him do such mighty things, haven't we? Why not resist those crooked men? It would have been so simple. He could have done it without harming a hair on their heads. I don't understand."

I speak softly. "Because...he isn't the One. Once we've liberated our people, the Teacher will be of great use to our nation. But for now, for tonight, he must remain with the religious authorities. I hope you'll understand that I had to use him. He was our bargaining chip. It was the only way Henrik would have agreed. I've lined his pockets, and so have the religious authorities. They've paid a monumental price to have the Teacher silenced for the Great Festival. Don't you see? This way everyone wins. The religious authorities calm down. The Kingdom stays happy. Henrik gets rich. And I get a free shot at King Charles. And then...
revolution"

Maria, who still looks unconvinced, says, "I pray to the one true God you're right."

I draw her closer and whisper in her ear, "I am, sweet girl. I am. You have to trust me now."

I stay with her for another hour, and then I leave to prepare for the most important day of my life.

As I creep back into the heart of the city to meet up with Henrik and Jude, I experience a calm I haven't known in many months. It's the overwhelming peace that comes from knowing you've done the right thing.

The morning comes before I'm ready. The Gratitude Ceremony is scheduled for 7:00 a.m., one hour from now.