Lazarus, a tale of the world's great miracle/Chapter 41
CHAPTER XLI.
PALE-FACED, excited, with dishevelled hair, Claudia rushed to her husband's room, with the news brought to her by the slaves.
"Hast heard? He is risen! He is risen!" she cried excitedly.
No need to give name, for Pilate, ever straight-forward, made no pretence of not knowing whom she meant. Yet no terror seized him; rather a look of triumph lit up his features.
"Is it even so?" he questioned calmly.
"Speakest thou thus?" exclaimed Claudia angrily; "dost not fear that some evil shall befall us for this thing?"
"Nay, I fear naught, for naught that can befall me can be worse than the dull ache which gnaweth at my heart, which will ache for evermore." Then, rising from his bench, he exclaimed in a changed tone: "Yet how knowest thou that this thing is true? How knowest thou not that either this Man's followers seek once more to bewitch the world, or that Caiaphas hath not some plot of base deceit with which he too would blind the eyes of the Jews? I will at once to my bath and go myself and see into this thing; and, if it be true, 't is I, Pilate, who will be the first to tell that priest of hell, and mark the grinning infamy of his foul smile of dread. Ah, 't will be sweet to me, and such moments will be rare henceforth."
" 'T is verily true," said Claudia; "for the Magdalene and Mary have seen Him, and He hath spoken with them; and they say that He hath sent a wondrous message to the whole world."
Hastily Pilate dressed and left the house without his usual guard.
For all it was so early, he yet found Caiaphas dressed and busy writing, and he could not but admire the power and energy of the man. A great uneasiness seized the heart of Caiaphas at this early, unexpected visit, for, since the condemnation of Jesus of Nazareth, he had felt ever a great restlessness and anxiety he could not account for, a dread of some catastrophe whose nature he could not forecast. Yet, when he rose, he sought to hide his fears.
How may I serve thee?" he inquired, his face taking on the smile that so exasperated Pilate.
"Methought I would be the first to tell thee some strange news," said Pilate, in that taunting tone which in one less noble-hearted would have marked the bully. "The Nazarene hath risen! Even now He walketh about Jerusalem, as though thou hadst never hated Him and I had never allowed Him to be condemned. At any moment He may appear to thee and me, and woe betide us both."
" 'T is a lie!" gasped Caiaphas hoarsely, clutching at his table, yet failing to find it in his perturbation; his fingers seemed to clasp and unclasp the air behind him.
"Thou were ever courteous," answered Pilate, "but we Romans lie not; we leave that to the Jews, who surpass in that all other nations."
Unmindful of the taunt, Caiaphas stood silent. Could this that he had just heard be true, or was Pilate mocking him? Or was it some pretended miracle? Dismay and fear showed on his countenance, for his sense of justice told him that, if God meant vengeance, it would fall heavily on him.
" 'T is some witchery in which thou hast helped," he burst out at last, no longer able to control the torrent of hate and wrath he felt against the Nazarene, Pilate, the whole world. "It is some witchery of thine own soldiers. Therefore didst thou allow Joseph of Arimathæa to take away the body. Thou art a traitor to thy Emperor. Thou hast ever tried to mock me since thou wert Procurator here, and I will write to Cæsar."
"See that thou write in Latin, and not in Hebrew," said Pilate, laughing at the priest's petulance; "and send it not by a Roman soldier. . . Ha! Ha! thou art indeed afraid, poor Caiaphas, of this carpenter's Son." Then, changing his tone, he added: "Thou wouldst not fear Him so, great Caiaphas, were it not that thou knowest He is the stronger. He is stronger than art thou, be He God or not. His heart is pure and noble, and true and wide, wide as the ocean; and thou, thou art a base, plotting, deceiving little hound of a Jew, with a mind as narrow as that." And with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand he portioned off the tiniest tip of the little finger of his left hand. " And thy soul, if thou hast indeed a soul, is foul, like water into which men have spat; and them wouldst deceive the whole nation for thy own power's sake, and thou wouldst hound pure-living souls to their destruction, so that thou and thy tool, Annas, may hold in chains each Jewish heart; and, when thou diest—as thou must surely die—to thee it will not matter whether or not there be a resurrection, for thou wilt never rise again, since neither heaven nor hell could hold so base a soul. So now thou knowest, Caiaphas, what I think of thee, and with that I bid thee farewell. Henceforward, except in the Sanhedrim, we shall meet no more, for Romans like not cowards; and, if there be a resurrection, all I pray is that thou and I may never meet at it."
With these words, Pilate left the room, and the little priest, who was huddled up in his seat, and looking more like ape than exasperated man, and so amazed, so swelling with rage and hate, that voice and tongue refused their office.
And, when Pilate had reached the street, he raised his head and took a long, deep breath, as though he had been inspiring in the High Priest's chamber some foul, death-dealing gas.