The Implacable Hunter (18 page)

‘Silly old Barnabas Hagith,’ as Paulus called him, opened his silly old mouth in moist surprise and said, of course he was associated with Nazarenes – was intensely interested in Nazarenes – wished he had known Jesus personally – had
invited
this discredited Rabbi to his house more than once, only Jesus wouldn’t come. Why? But didn’t everyone know that he, Hagith, was working on a book to be entitled
The
Golden
Calf,
or
The
Gullibility
of
the
Multitude
?
Certainly he was interested in Jesus the Nazarene; but so was he interested in a Nubian thaumaturgist who could make people believe that a rose-bush could sprout and bloom in twenty seconds, and also an Indian with a rope … Paulus then begged leave to cross-examine Hagith. Afranius said that he reported, of course, on hearsay; but if there is any truth in the old saying: ‘The flood goes, but the sand
remains
’, it was there demonstrated. Grain by grain, tireless old Hagith trickled whispering back to his first position. It must have been worth hearing.

‘Do you believe that Jesus of Nazareth was King of the Jews?’ Paulus asked.

Hagith answered, scaly, deliberate, swaying his head like a tortoise. ‘Here you open an interesting corner of the
subject
. The Procurator, Pontius Pilate, stated so in writing and posted his statement in public. Am I to say: “Rome lies”? If I say so, I say that which I should not, and may cause trouble. Am I then to say: “Rome does not lie”? Then again I say that which I should not, and may cause confusion. So
what do I believe? I believe in peace and quiet. The
tunny-fish
is a king of the fishes. So among tunny-fish everyone is a king of the fishes. Which is King of the Tunny-Fish? Among men, every Jew is Chosen of God. But which is God’s Chosen Jew? Dare I say that such a one is, or is not? Ahem! … Now Jesus of Nazareth rode into the city on an ass, and a multitude hailed him as King. This brings me back to the subject matter of my little book concerning the
gullibility
of multitudes. Firstly –’

‘Excuse me. Please answer directly and to the point. Are you or are you not at present in association with any
professed
Nazarene?’

‘Excuse
me,
Saul. How do I know? Who professes to be a Nazarene? It is wrong to be a Nazarene, so who dares to say he is a Nazarene? I do not, for example, associate with criminals. But before I exchange friendly words with an acquaintance, am I to ask: “Pardon me, but have you uncovered your mother’s nakedness, committed sodomy, or murdered your neighbour just lately? Kindly show me a testimonial from a reliable rabbi.” Must I ask this?’

‘Do you know any followers of Jesus, then?’

‘First tell me what they look like, what they talk like. Have they marks, characteristics? “Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s,” says the Nazarene, quoting Jesus. And: “Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s,” says the
tax-collector
. What do I know?’

‘You have given money to Nazarenes. You have
entertained
them in your house, Hagith.’

‘So? Is a physician in love with you because he looks into your eyes? Is a surgeon in league with leeches? Am I a lover of desolation because I study Petra? Do I walk cheek-
by-jowl
with death because I annotate a history of things past? To hint this, even, is blasphemous, young sir!’

‘Pardon me, learned and pious Hagith. Leeches were made
for the relief of man, not man for the nourishment of leeches.’

‘I ask to be informed, good Saul – can there be
nourishment
divorced from relief, or relief separate from
nourishment
?’

‘This is a matter to be discussed in another place and at another time,’ said Paulus easily. ‘Now tell us, have you not a secretary name Eli, nicknamed Kamzan?’

‘Because the poor fellow has a withered left hand like a pair of tongs. Eli? Yes. How many hands does a man need, to write?’

‘As many tongues as a man needs to talk,’ said Paulus.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Hagith, with a shake of his poor old head, ‘and that one is sometimes one too many for, as the saying goes: “The tongue has no bones, but it is strong enough to break a man’s neck.”’

‘Apt,’ said Paulus quietly. ‘Too true. Eli-Kamzan has a loose tongue, and it dribbles. But it breaks you, Hagith. With this tongue he has condemned you. You are a Nazarene!’

Moved to something like indignation, Hagith said: ‘Oh, even if I were, Eli would not say so. It is improper to mention this, and I do so only in protest, but I took Eli into my house when he was a lame and crippled child. Young sir, I taught him. I said to him: “Don’t believe them when they tell you that you have one shoulder lower than the other: the fact of the matter is, you have one shoulder higher than the other. Have courage,” I said. “If you had no hands at all, and God willed you to write, you would write with your toes.” What, Eli? Eli spy? Upon me? It is written that there is reason in everything. But in this there is no reason.’

Paulus handed the old man a packet of documents, saying: ‘You wrote these. I have here, also, Eli’s diary, together with a number of letters he wrote at your dictation, Hagith.’

Turning the parchments over stupidly in his knotty
hands, Hagith said: ‘But he was a crippled child, and I took him in’ – over and over again, with something like
incredulity
.

Paulus said: ‘Naturally. Why else should he betray you?’

‘Silly boy! I suppose Eli takes half of any fine or
confiscation
the judges may see fit to impose upon me?’ said Hagith; and, when Paulus nodded – ‘Oh, unlucky lad! I had not told him that, being childless, I had made him my heir! Poor Eli.’

‘In short, Hagith, you confess?’

‘I confess? Confess what?’

‘Nazarene affiliations, to begin with.’

‘Young sir, I am a good Jew, as all the world knows, and a dutiful subject of Caesar, and I don’t know what you mean by “Nazarene”. You must define the charge. Come, now, if I love veal, do I therefore worship Isis? If I delight in fried fish, am I therefore devoted to Dagon? Does contemplation of the dawn make me Mithraic, or admiration for the rising moon an adorer of Ashtaroth? Does –?’

‘If you please!’

‘Does the fact that I do not eat pig indicate that I hold swine sacred, as the Indians regard the cow, whose flesh is forbidden to them as pork is to us? Does –?’

… The examination of Hagith ended more or less as it had begun, incriminating letters and diaries notwithstanding; for this was Jew-meet-Jew, and the man at the bar was no wind-dried son of a hairy carpenter, but a rich old scholar of noble family and hitherto unquestioned piety. The affair was ‘adjourned for further inquiry’. If Paulus was in any way disconcerted by this, he concealed the fact; put on,
indeed
, a knowing air and twisted a minor reverse into the appearance of an important victory.

He said to Afranius: ‘Of course, I could have told you so at the start’ – taking the wind out of his sails by anticipating his very words – ‘You see, my dear Afranius, if Hagith were
a Nazarene ten times over, he would have to go scot free, for now. For now. In the first place he is too rich. Secondly, his wealth doesn’t come out of some conflicting business interest. Thirdly, he is very highly connected, by family. And fourthly, the rabble in general likes Hagith for his
so-called
“benevolence”, for he gives a fortune in alms. If we punish Hagith, we scarify rich and poor alike, don’t you see. And the common pack growls: “If kind-hearted Hagith is a Nazarene, all we can say is, there ought to be a few more like him.”’

Afranius asked: ‘What have you achieved, then, by
pestering
this silly old fellow, as you were calling him only a couple of days ago?’

‘Who, Hagith? Hagith silly? Did I say that? I must have failed to make my meaning clear. He is an old fox, and he knows we know, now, where his hole is. Achieved? Why, I have the names and whereabouts of his correspondents, and I have Eli-Kamzan’s diaries. Remember,’ said Paulus darkly, ‘that Hagith is old and retired. Benevolent as he may be considered, there will be other benefactors, Afranius – to stir the spirit while they fill the belly, too.’

Afranius said: ‘Would it not have been wiser simply to bribe this miserable Eli in secret, and let him stay in Hagith’s employ?’

‘Wiser or not wiser, the paralysed Eli was hungry for an informer’s reward, which might have been enormous’ – Paulus laughed – ‘but you do not take into consideration two important factors: the abysmal shamelessness and the diseased arrogance of the average cripple; and the
insuperable
vanity of the so-called “public benefactor”. Eli will beg Hagith’s pardon, and Hagith will forgive him and take him back into his house, and trust him more than ever. In fact, Hagith will
love
him more than ever! Certain troubled consciences work that way: they negate law and order, and are the friends of crime with their vicarious free
pardoning
.
But the scholarly and gentle Hagith on his side, fails to take into consideration that Eli-Kamzan will hate him for having forgiven him, the paralysed dog! He will go on tempting pity as a gambler tempts fate, playing for the utmost limit of forgiveness … And meanwhile, he is my man. Never trust a born cripple – somebody, somewhere, always owes him an arm or a leg. Ask Diomed!’

‘But you trust Eli?’ Afranius asked.

‘No. Eli trusts me,’ said Paulus, ‘he adores me. I showed him the Four Scourges, and I said: “Look here, you lopsided carrion. This scourge is the bull-hide strap; it bruises to the bone. This other is the knotted nine-thonged scourge; it takes off your skin. That there with the copper hooks is the three-tailed scorpion; it takes the flesh off your bones. But that last, which is thick as your wrist at the handle and tapers to a pin-point eight feet away – the one that is
flint-coloured
and almost transparent – that is made of rhinoceros hide, and Little Azrael can take a man’s leg off with one stroke of it. One of these four you shall receive, according to your demerits; in which case we’ll complete the work your mother’s malformed womb botched when it only half bore you. Behave yourself, and perhaps you won’t be beaten at all.” He kissed my feet. Oh, rest assured, Eli trusts
me,
Afranius!’

‘And his reward?’

Paulus said: ‘Afranius, the highest reward one can offer most men is an assurance that they will not get what they deserve. Diomed says –’

‘Alas, my poor Diomed!’ said Afranius.

Paulus was quick to answer: ‘Poor Diomed? He is no poor Diomed. Do you know, Afranius, the time will come when Diomed will be the greatest Roman in Asia?’

‘Who will promote him that high?’ asked Afranius.

‘Whoever it may be, it is simply something I feel in my
bones,’ said Paulus. ‘Afranius, listen. Diomed says –’

‘Oh, damn Diomed!’

‘Diomed says that all basic intelligence services, whether civil or military, must be basically dependent upon the proper evaluation and correlation of information received, however seemingly irrelevant its nature or questionable its source. Well, Afranius, I will tell you a secret. I have been correlating and evaluating information received, and I have arrived at a remarkable conclusion.’

‘Well?’

‘Jesus Christ is alive,’ said Paulus.

And then, for all the world as if it were the result of his own intensive investigation and study, he expounded to the astonished Afranius exactly what I had told him that night in my house – but with a fire and a vehemence of which I could never have been capable. He evoked a startling image of a breathing Jesus: a man with a limp, sleeved to the knuckles to hide nail scars, cowled to the eyes and muffled to the mouth, following his weird among the rocks; a gaunt, ragged, ghostly Catiline, gathering forces for an
onslaught
upon the Law; a spidery Anarch, spinning and
spinning
against his return in glory, feverish with fasting, fetid with fever, eyes of madness burned down in charred sockets; face moonstruck white, mouth parched black, gap-toothed and broken-nosed from the fists of the mob; back ridged like a sand-dune from the executioner’s scourge and stooped by youthful study …

Right or wrong, dead or alive, there was Paulus’s vision of a prowling Jesus; and he talked of it to Afranius in the strained, urgent manner of a man who remembers, but cannot quite describe, a bad dream.

‘Well,’ said Afranius humouring him, ‘assuming this Jesus to be alive, which I personally doubt, how are you going to set about finding him?’

‘As Diomed says, you never begin a search by looking for
an individual – you look for a place, or area, where that individual is most likely to be,’ said Paulus …

And reading, I blushed:
Diomed
says
this,
and
Diomed
says
that,
and
Ask
Diomed
so-and-so
was growing
embarrassing
to me. He was talking in this way, of course, to win the approval and support of Afranius.

But Afranius said: ‘Oh, to hell with what Diomed says! Since when did a broken nose and a heavy fist make a man an oracle? We were boys together, Diomed and I, and I could tell you some stories –’

‘I don’t want to hear them. Diomed is my only friend. I love Diomed.’

‘He’s been my friend for twenty years, and I love him too, young Paulus; but I’m not so confounded vain as to believe that the virtue of my love is strong enough to make a god of him … although I concede that love is a very powerful thing. By the way, have you told Diomed of this story, or hypothesis, of Jesus surviving the cross?’

With that ready candour and absolute honesty which puts the professional examiner on his guard and makes him ready to put pressure on a question, Paulus replied: ‘No, Afranius. I did not tell Diomed of this.’

It did not occur to the worldly-wise, sly, contemplative, commentative Afranius that I, Diomed, might have told Paulus. The astuteness of a clever man in theory is nearly always, in practice, as full of holes as a sieve. Confronted with a real problem, however trivial, there is none so useless as your narrator of subtly-woven plot and tricky counterplot. Paulus did rightly in keeping a close mouth. But Afranius deserved to be kicked, kicked hard: if you don’t want to know an answer, do not waste a question, but if you want to know something, then go into the matter with a gimlet. In some ways, I thought, Afranius really was something of a fool.