Philochristus: Memoirs of a Disciple of the LordAbbott, Edwin Abbott
Religion
Philochristus: Memoirs of a Disciple of the Lord
Abbott, Edwin Abbott
Christian fiction; Jesus Christ -- Fiction
But he replied, still in great heat, “Thou wouldst fain know where I have
tarried these twenty days. Well, I will tell thee. I have but even now
come from Machærus, where I have tarried these two weeks and more, nigh
unto the fort called the Black Castle, wherein John the Prophet is
imprisoned. With the Prophet himself I had no speech; for he is kept in
close durance, insomuch that he pineth, as I hear, for lack of air and
freedom. This I heard from one of the guard, who is a kinsman of mine.
Moreover my kinsman told me that had it not been for Chuza the Steward,
the Prophet had been slain ten days ago. For the Tetrarch, after supper,
being heavy with wine, was moved by the adulteress, even by Herodias, to
write letters that John should be beheaded. Howbeit Chuza took order that
the letter should be stayed for that time, and won the Tetrarch from his
purpose. But what surety have we that the adulterous woman may not win the
Tetrarch to write even such another letter to‐morrow? And when John shall
feel the left hand of the Thracian gripping his hair and the Thracian
scimitar (may it be accursed!) hacking at his neck, will he not then cry
unto the Lord in his sore agony and say, ‘Jesus of Nazareth hath forsaken
me: Jesus of Nazareth is guilty of my blood’? For this cause do we
Galileans begin no more to trust your Master, because he speaketh many
fair words, but we see not from him any doing of deeds.”
His words so troubled me that I knew not what to say; Nathanael also was
silent. But I besought Barabbas to trust in Jesus because of his mighty
works, and because of his Gospel, which surely was a message from God.
“Certainly,” I began, “Jesus of Nazareth will not suffer the Prophet to
die as a dog dieth.” But, even while I spake, it came into my mind that
the ways of Jesus were not as the ways of other men; neither could I
foretell what Jesus would do, or not do, save only I knew that he would do
right. So I paused, and added, “or, if otherwise——.” But Barabbas, at that
word “if,” brake away from us, and was departing in fury. Howbeit,
remembering himself, he returned and constrained himself, and courteously
besought us to tarry with him that night. But we could not; for we were to
pass on to another town, and not to tarry at Jotapata. So we bade him
farewell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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