Benbacchus arrived in Jerusalem with many plans. None of them involved a real rescue. Riding by the cross fast on a horse with a javelin to skewer him as soon as he was on the gibbet was one idea. Poisoning a drink was another possibility. But he never had time to pursue any of these plans. His caravan was delayed and Benbacchus arrived on the very evening his old friend was supposed to go to the cross. Happily, the plans were not necessary. By that time Jesus had managed his own way of escape.
Instead of hanging cruciform he was sitting at a table outside a tavern drinking beer. Benbacchus found him and pulled up a chair. “So why aren’t you nailed to a tree outside town?” he asked. “I had it on good authority that Jesus was to die this day.”
He didn’t even ask Benbacchus how he happened to be back in Israel. It was like the last ten years were as nothing and they were partners again. “That’s a horribly common name these days, Phineas” he said, grinning.
“I go by Benbacchus now,” he said.
“A Roman name for the international traveler. How did you come up with that one?”
“Few years back I was in Athens. A couple of philosophers were asking me a lot of questions to figure out which god was worshipped in Israel. After I described worship they figured the god of wine had to be the one. After that I did a lot of work in Italy so the Latin version kind of stuck.”
“And you came from so far away to find me?”
“No, I was in Ephesus when I got the message. Based on what I’ve heard about your arrest, it was more of a prophecy than a report. Yet I guess that makes it a false prophecy since you don’t look like you’re being crucified.”
“Are you sure your message was about me and not another?”
“My source distinctly said, ‘son of the father.’”
“Yes. That’s the name I use these days, but even it is not without confusion. The bastard taking my place speaks of his father so often, I’m sure many might mistake that name as his as well.”
Benbacchus clicked his tongue as he got the waiters attention. “Such language! Don’t you feel a bit grateful that he’s on the cross instead of you?”
“Are you kidding? It couldn’t happen to a more deserving son of Belial!” The waiter came and poured Benbacchus a cup of beer. When he left, Jesus said, “Let me tell you a story.”
“About a year ago I got involved in a raid that pretty much scattered my team. I had one companion who got away with me and everyone else got killed or was capture. Naturally, I needed to do some recruiting.”
“Naturally” Benbacchus agreed. The beer was second rate but he drank it anyway. Didn’t want Jesus to think he was getting snobby from his travels, even if that were true.”
“So I look around for something showy, and hear about this ghoul who has been terrorizing the region of the Decapolis.”
“Ghoul?”
“Yeah, he hung out in the grave yards. Powerful monster. I was told he could tear up any shackles they tried to use on him.”
“They didn’t want to kill him.”
“Naw, before he got possessed he was the favorite son of a local synagogue bigwig. No one had tried to simply kill him. And I figured I could probably subdue him without doing so.”
“I’ve found it pretty difficult to save the person in those circumstances.”
He shrugged. “Well, the benefit of being an outlaw is that it really doesn’t matter if I disappoint some synagogue ruler. It still impresses potential recruits and I’m out of reach of such a man anyway.”
“So what happened?”
Jesus drained his cup and belched. “Nothing happened. I got there and there was no ghoul.”
“It was a false story?”
“No it was true as far as I could tell. But that accursed Galilean beat me there.” Jesus leaned over the table and looked me in the eyes. “He did it with just a word! A whole legion of demons were sent into a herd of pigs and then he drowned them in the sea. He defeated an army without even trying.”
“Wow.”
“From that point on I realized what a danger he was. I’ve given—what?—two decades of my life to the fight against Rome. You were with me for half of them. I tell you, Phineas, this man is more of a threat than Caesar or Herod to everything we stand for. What role is left for men of valor who live by their swords if this man can simply tame the monsters with nothing more than his tongue? No bloodshed. No heroism. He doesn’t even have mastery of magic as far as anyone can tell. There was talk for awhile but it didn’t stick. He doesn’t do spells. And yet he delivers people with a word and saves the lives of the possessed without ever losing one! I saw him, you know—the ex-ghoul. I didn’t want to believe it but everyone in the whole region confirmed his testimony. Other than a few scars on his head, he was completely normal.”
“Scars?” Benbacchus asked.
“It would bruise his heads with rocks.”
“That sounds vaguely familiar. Is there something in the Bible…”
Jesus waved away his question. “The point is he was a real threat to the kingdom and to Rome too, ironically enough. He disturbs the order of the ages. The era of kings and mighty men would soon be over if he were to live. Thank God the Priests were able to capture him.”
“First Rome and now the priesthood?” Benbacchus laughed. “Are you making friends with all your enemies against this man?”
Jesus smirked. “Haven’t you heard? Even Herod and Pilate came to an alliance against this false prophet. In a few hours he’ll be dead and there will be no doubt that this Jesus of Nazareth was not the Messiah.”
Benbacchus raised his cup, since it still had a swallow in it. “Then once he is out of the way,” he said, “I drink to the health and future kingdom of Barabbas. May your sword bring you life.”
But as he drained his last dreg the sun went dark.
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Of course, despite still being friends with Jesus, Benbacchus had long outgrown the ambition of patriotism. And he was growing increasingly uneasy about living by the sword. He had a small fortune saved and found an investment in Philippi. Instead of fighting the demons for fame and fortune, he and Tullus bought one who was their own oracle of Delphi. She told fortunes and made them a profit.
Until those two came and wrecked Benbacchus’ retirement. “Has Tullus gotten the magistrate to act?” He asked the slave. Even though it wouldn’t help him out financially, a little revenge would be of some comfort.
“Yes sir! Already done,” affirmed the slave quickly. “They are probably being beaten as we speak. Then they will be locked up. I’m sure they will learn their lesson.”
“Prison is the only place for them,” said Benbacchus. “I hope they rot there.”