DARK RESURRECTION, CHAPTER NINETEEN: CAECUS

 

Chapter Nineteen: Caecus

 

A few weeks passed, Jesus and the Magdalene prowling the west road in search of victims on a chilly November night.

“Where the hell are they?” asked Mary at a little before eight.

“Sometimes it’s slim pickings around here, I think we should – ”

“Someone’s up ahead,” she interrupted.

“I see him too,” said Jesus.

An unwashed man with unkempt hair, tattered clothes and short beard appeared from the roadside, staring at the vampiric couple.

“I’m not a robber friends,” the shivering man declared in very good Latin, delirious and sick from lack of food and water.

“What are you?” Mary retorted, looking to the man in disgust.

“I’m hungry and cold madam, I’m running for my – ” began the man, collapsing to the pavement.

“I’ll take him,” said the Magdalene, looking to the still and unmoving form.

“This man has done us no harm,” said Jesus, grasping her firmly by the arm.

“What are you saying?” Mary demanded, turning to her consort.

“He’s suffering from hunger, he stated that before he fell.”

“So what?”

“Verily I say, a righteous vampire cannot take the innocent,” said Jesus, finger in the air, releasing her.

“Righteous vampire, oh brother,” scoffed the Magdalene, folding arms across her chest, “What are we going to do with him?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jesus replied, kneeling beside the stricken man, rolling him to his back, making sure he was still alive.

Slapping him lightly on the cheek to rouse him, Jesus said, “Wake up and tell us of your travails.”

“Huh?” asked the man, returning to consciousness.

“Who are you?” asked Jesus.

“Caecus of Valginum,” answered the man drearily, looking to Jesus.

“Why are you out here at this time of night with no shelter?”

“I’m a wanted man,” said Caecus.

“Wanted, by whom and for what?” Jesus asked, narrowing eyes.

“You’re Roman,” Caecus replied breathlessly.

“Yes, what does that have to do with it?”

“I’m Roman too, but the authorities have condemned my family and I as traitors,” the exhausted man admitted in defeat, figuring Jesus would drag him to a garrison for the reward.

“On whose authority are you wanted citizen?” asked Jesus, noting a gold signet ring on the third finger of the man’s left hand.

“Caligula, his praetorians are out to kill me,” said Caecus, again lapsing into unconsciousness.

“Why?” asked Jesus of the oblivious form.

“He’s out cold, since he’s wanted by Caligula, why can’t I kill him and do him a favor?”

“Because I said not to, woman,” Jesus retorted, looking to her.

“You’re such a jackass,” Mary hissed, looking to Jesus as if he denied her yet another wholesome meal, which he had.

Two hours later they returned to the house, Jesus carrying the unconscious Caecus over his shoulder, sitting him on the kitchen floor next to the hearth to warm.

“You’ve hauled in another piece of garbage to bother us,” Mary declared.

“Never mind that, take something from the fields,” Jesus advised with a wave of a hand, tending the stricken man.

“Whatever,” Mary retorted, transforming to fog just outside the entrance door.

Joseph entered the kitchen shortly after Mary had resumed her hunt for an evening meal, noting Jesus seating a conscious but shivering Caecus at the table, wool blanket over his shoulders, afterward serving him a bowl of warm stew and bread.

“So son, who’s the asshole in our kitchen?” Joseph asked, leaning against the hall doorjamb.

“He’s not an asshole father, he’s a man who needs our help, he’s fleeing Caligula’s praetorians, we found him on the west road.”

“Really?”

“He told me the Emperor’s out to kill him,” Jesus replied, Caecus wolfing down a bowl of venison stew.

“Then he’s considered an enemy of Rome and Caligula.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Well, any enemy of Caligula has to be a friend of ours. Tell you what son, handle this, and make sure he causes no problems for us,” said Joseph, eyeing the fugitive, returning to his bedroom without another word, slamming the door behind him.

That was no problem at all, thought Jesus.

A strengthening Caecus finished his meal, sitting the silver spoon down next to an ornate crystal bowl.

“Did you enjoy the food?” asked Jesus, Caecus’ shivering having stopped in the warm kitchen.

“I did indeed sir, would you have water please?” a wary but thirsty Caecus asked.

“I’ll get some for you,” said Jesus, moving to the kitchen tap and filling a goblet for his guest, sitting it on the table.

“Thank you,” said Caecus after draining the goblet.

“You’re quite welcome,” answered Jesus, taking to a seat across from the man, pouring a goblet of wine.

“Would you care for wine?” asked Jesus, offering the bottle.

“No thank you, I don’t drink wine,” Caecus replied.

“I understand, now as to the reason for you being a fugitive, what did you supposedly do to Caligula?”

“You say supposedly.”

“Yes, considering that according to very reliable sources, he’s little more than a madman, accusing anyone of anything on a whim,” said Jesus, downing his goblet.

Caecus’ jaw dropped at the remark.

“Tell me about it friend,” Jesus implored, resting his head on an arm.

“About six months ago my teenage son, Caecus the younger, said to a friend that the Emperor’s legs were as hairy as those of a goat.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, they arrested and beheaded my son in the town forum, and made my wife and daughter slaves,” Caecus answered bitterly.

“That’s a bit extreme.”

“I thought so too.”

“And as to you?”

“They were going to kill me for being the father of Caecus the younger, but I beat a guard to death with a bar pulled from a window and escaped from the garrison in Valginum,” Caecus explained.

“What of your wife and daughter?”

“There’s nothing I can do, they were taken to Rome when I was in jail,” Caecus answered, tears welling in his eyes.

“So I take it you and your entire family were condemned for your son comparing an insane, megalomaniacal bastard’s legs to those of a common farm animal,” Jesus ventured, hands folded.

“That’s true,” Caecus replied.

“I should fly to Rome and kill him myself,” spat Jesus under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing, have no fear, you friend Caecus are a welcome guest in our home, and may stay with us until you regain your strength,” said Jesus.

“You’re not going to turn me in, there’s a reward of five aurei for me across the empire.”

“Five aurei is pocket change to me,” said Jesus, “Further, what crime have you committed against anyone?”

“I killed a guard – ”

“Who was going to kill you, or at least make certain you were killed by someone else, in my opinion that’s righteous self defense,” Jesus observed.

“But – ”

“But what, just relax and don’t worry, I’ll figure some way to get you out of this goddamn mess,” said Jesus, pouring another goblet of wine.

“You will?”

“Yes, give me time to think about it,” said Jesus, ruminating on the problem.

Mary returned from her predations on the local fauna, Jesus conversing with the refreshed Caecus.

“Who is this guy?” the Magdalene asked, sitting down next to Jesus.

“His name is Caecus, a plebian citizen of Valginum, fleeing the madman Caligula,” said Jesus.

“What did he do?” asked Mary, jerking a thumb at their guest.

“Nothing, they wanted to kill him because his son insulted the emperor,” Jesus declared.

“Are you kidding?” asked a frowning Mary.

“No, ask him,” Jesus replied, pointing to Caecus.

A subdued Magdalene heard Caecus’ woes by kitchen lamplight, his story moving the hardened vampiress to tears on several occasions.

“What kind of world is this?” Mary asked.

“A very cruel one,” said Jesus, leaning back in a chair, hands folded behind his head.

“Caligula’s a real bastard isn’t he?”

“A lot of people don’t like him madam, if you ask me his days are numbered, but it will take time for the people to react,” Caecus replied, wishing the vain emperor dead with all his might.

Talking further, the trio conversed until nearly two, Jesus feigning tiredness. “It’s time to get sleep, how about you Maria?”

“What are we going to do with Caecus?”

“I’ll put him up on the couch in the common area so Ruth won’t be disturbed while preparing breakfast,” said Jesus.

“That’ll work,” said Mary, leaving Jesus to tend to their guest, retiring to their room.

“Here, a couch with pillows for you to sleep on, and wool blanket to keep you warm friend,” said Jesus in the dimly lit common area.

“Why are you doing this for me?” asked Caecus, arching eyebrows as he lay on the couch.

“Because you need our help,” Jesus replied, heading to the bedroom.

“Hey,” called Caecus.

“Yes?” asked Jesus, turning back to his guest.

“We’ve been talking in your kitchen for hours, I didn’t get your name.”

“Julius Chrysippus of Tibernum is my name.”

“I’ll remember it,” said Caecus.

Closing the door to their pitch-black lair, a relaxing Magdalene remarked, “I must admit, you did the right thing with him Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“About Caecus, are you stupid?”

“He’s a good man, to help him is the proper thing to do.”

“I believe I said that,” Mary replied.

Joseph strolled from his bedroom at a little after seven, warily noting the snoring Caecus on the couch, an arm touching the carpeted floor. Where on earth does Jesus drag them up from? thought the frowning patriarch, staring at the sleeping form. Snoring his answer, Joseph headed down the hall to the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast Ruth?” he asked.

“Barley porridge, eggs, bread, and pork tenderloin Master Julius,” Ruth answered, engrossed preparing the morning meal.

“I’ll take some of each,” said Joseph.

“I’ll set out plates for you presently,” Ruth replied, her back to him.

Demosthenes made quite an impression on her, thought Joseph, regretting the thought for a moment.

Caecus opened his eyes with a start, not recalling his whereabouts. “Ahh!” cried the fugitive, sitting up and looking about while Joseph stepped into the common area.

“Where am I?” asked Caecus, finally recalling Jesus and Mary.

“Relax citizen, you’re among friends,” said Joseph, “Please keep it down, my son Julian and my wife are still sleeping.”

“I thought his name was Julius,” a confused Caecus replied, scratching his head.

“Julius is my eldest son, Julian is my youngest,” explained Joseph.

“Oh, sorry,” said Caecus.

“Want something to eat?” asked Joseph, leaning against the wall and yawning.

“You and Julius have done enough for me already – ”

“Who cares, you’re here, come in and have food,” said Joseph, heading to the kitchen.

“If you insist,” said Caecus to the empty living room, rising from the couch and folding his blanket.

Their guest entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Joseph wolfing down his morning meal, nodding to Caecus as Ruth left with plates for Mary and Julian.

“Sit down, have food,” Joseph mumbled, mouth full, shoving laden plates toward him with his left, his right holding a shelled, hard boiled egg.

“Thank you,” said Caecus.

“Don’t mention it, eat,” Joseph mumbled, dumping a silver knife and spoon in front of his guest along with an open bottle of wine.

“I don’t drink wine,” said Caecus.

“Suit yourself, more for me,” Joseph replied, grabbing the bottle and washing down his egg.

Their hunger sated near eight, Joseph belched loudly and asked, “How did you like the meal, and what’s your name anyway?”

“It was very good, my name is Caecus of Valginum.”

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Joseph replied, offering his hand across the table.

Shaking Joseph’s hand firmly, Caecus asked, “Your name is sir?”

“Augustus Julius Chrysippus of Tibernum, Cappadocia province, Rome,” Joseph answered with the efficiency of any Roman citizen.

“You and yours are the only citizens who have even tried to help me,” said Caecus.

“Then the rest are worthless cowards, Caligula’s insane; it’s the least we could do for you.”

“Everyone fears him, he’s the Emperor.”

“I don’t blame them, a madman with power is something to be feared, and don’t think we don’t fear him either, it’s just that on our farm you are safe for the moment.”

“You’re risking your lives by helping me, the praetorians are tracking – ”

“Not really, most in this town despise him too,” said Joseph, staring at the table, resting his head on an arm.

“They do?”

“Yes, did my son have any suggestions for you to escape the praetorians?”

“He said he was going to think about it,” Caecus answered, the sun shining brightly through the kitchen window.

”Let me close those curtains,” said Joseph as the light hit him in the eyes, walking over and pulling them shut, subdued light shining through the cotton backed silk shade. “Armenia’s just across the Euphrates out there and beyond the reach of the empire,” he added, jerking a thumb toward the window as he took his seat.

“I’ve come that far?”

“Yes, now we have to figure out how to get you across it, the current’s very swift.”

“Oh,” Caecus replied, not knowing how to swim regardless of dangerous currents, having stowed away on a night ferry crossing the Hellespont several months earlier.

“How far have the praetorians tracked you?” asked Joseph, turning to his guest.

“I think I lost them in Aneyrum, but I can’t be sure.”

“Have you seen any since you left Aneyrum?” Joseph asked, pouring a goblet of wine.

“No.”

“Then you probably lost them, at least for the time being,” Joseph observed.

Jesus came from his dark lair at sundown, their guest having insisted on earning his keep by helping Ganymede and Brutus with butchering the latest kills, two deer, and a huge auroch bull.

“Good evening, friends Ganymede, Brutus and Caecus,” Jesus greeted, walking up to the smokehouse, fresh torches lit above them.

“Greetings Julius the younger,” said Ganymede, ripping the hide from a deer, hind legs tied off to an iron fixture mounted on the smokehouse.

“Hello Julius,” a tired Caecus greeted, not used to heavy labor, his tattered, dirty plebian tunic covered in blood.

“You don’t look like a butcher Caecus,” Jesus declared.

“I’m not, I’m an architect.”

“So you’re a builder, not a destroyer, verily I say, this work is ill suited for a man of your station,” said Jesus.

“What are you saying?” asked Caecus, looking to the vampiric Christ.

“Julius the younger likes to speak in riddles,” a smiling Brutus explained, “What he means is you’re a man of ideas, not of action or labor.”

“By my being a draftsman and architect,” said Caecus.

“Right,” Ganymede replied, laying a deerskin on a table, reaching for a bucket of auroch blood.

“Would you care for blood Julius?” asked Ganymede, a shocked Caecus looking on.

“No thanks,” said a hungry Jesus, coveting the blood.

“Maybe next time,” Ganymede replied, filling cups for he and Brutus.

Walking to the house with their guest while their slaves drank blood, a disgusted Caecus remarked, “Your slaves drink blood Julius, what are they, vampires?”

“They’re not vampires, just hunters, hunters often drink the blood of their kills for strength,” said Jesus, his father stifling a laugh.

“Oh,” replied Caecus.

Entering the house, they headed for the kitchen.

“You need a hot bath Caecus,” said Jesus, grabbing a bottle of wine and opening it.

“You think I stink?”

“No, I don’t think that you stink, I know that you stink,” Jesus answered plainly, like any Roman man would answer, “No offense meant, friend.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth Julius, you have hot water?”

“Of course, we may be in one of the furthest outposts in the empire, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t live like the Romans we are,” Jesus answered after taking a deep drink, passing the bottle to his father.

“Indeed,” a nodding Caecus replied, “I guess I’ll have to wash out my tunic during my bath,” looking to his filthy attire.

“Forget that,” said Joseph, “I’m sure we have a fresh tunic for you.”

“You need a shave too,” observed Jesus, “Steel razors are in our thermarium.”

“You will let me take a bath within your home?”

“Why not, you’re dirty and we have an available bath down the hall, help yourself,” said Jesus, having taken advantage of several hot baths with Mary over the past weeks.

“Don’t mind if I do,” said a smiling Caecus, finally relaxing in his surroundings after running for his life for the past six months.

“Ruth!” called Joseph.

“Yes Master Julius?” she answered, appearing from the bedroom.

“Take this man to the thermarium, see to it he has proper towels, soap if he likes, strigil and oil for his bath,” ordered Joseph.

“Shall do,” Ruth replied, motioning Caecus to follow her.

“Have you need of a toothbrush?” asked an attentive Ruth, showing him to the bathroom.

“Please,” said Caecus, not having the opportunity to brush his teeth for over a month.

“I’ll fetch one,” Ruth replied, Caecus placing a stopper in the tub and turning on the taps.

Later, Caecus lay in a tub of warm water, a light knock coming at the door.

“Yes?” asked Caecus.

“I have your toothbrush and fresh clothing, are you decent?” asked Ruth.

“I’m sitting in the tub if that’s what you mean by decent,” Caecus answered to the closed door, resting arms on the sides of the deep tub.

“It’s about time you saw a naked man,” called an inebriated Joseph from the kitchen.

“Father, what a thing to say to a virgin Jewess,” Jesus admonished.

“What the hell do you want me to say, it’s high time she did anyway!” Joseph retorted.

Entering the bathroom, Ruth placed the clothing and toothbrush on a shelf next to a full-length bronze mirror, noting the handsome, bronzed Roman in the tub, trying with all her might to steal a glance at his nether regions beneath the water.

“That will be all slave,” Caecus declared with a wave of a hand, having owned a dozen slaves in Valginum, several quite pretty.

“Very well,” Ruth answered, disappointed that she meant nothing to their guest.

Caecus stepped from the thermarium an hour later, bathed, clean shaven and refreshed, attired in a warm, cotton lined, wool winter tunic, a little long thanks to Joseph’s tall stature in comparison with most Romans.

“Good evening Julius, elder and younger,” said Caecus, walking to the kitchen, the patriarch and son splitting a magnum of Gallic wine.

“A good evening to you, did you enjoy your bath?” asked Jesus.

“Definitely, it’s been a long time,” a smiling Caecus answered, taking a seat at the table.

“He needs new shoes,” Joseph observed, staring at Caecus’ feet, a large hole in the side of the right shoe.

“I’ll say,” said Jesus, looking to the tattered shoes.

“Please, you’ve done enough for me already,” Caecus protested, Joseph turning to the hall.

“Ruth!” called Joseph.

“Yes Master?” she answered moments later.

“Find this man shoes from our stock and bring them to him,” ordered Joseph.

“Yes Master, Electra keeps them in the shed next to the slave house,” Ruth replied.

“Very well, thank you Ruth,” answered Joseph.

Turning to Caecus, Ruth asked, “May I have your old pair so I can match them for size sir?”

Caecus, not uttering a word, slipped off his shoes and handed them to the slave.

“I’ll be right back,” Ruth declared, donning an overcoat, grabbing a shielded lamp and exiting the house.

“Efficient slaves you have,” Caecus muttered, the formerly wealthy man feeling like a beggar.

“Yes, now to the problem at hand, my father has suggested you head into Armenia from here, but the river is broad and swift next to our farm, one would have to move north to the headwaters to cross,” Jesus explained.

“That makes sense, how far north should I go?”

“I don’t know,” Jesus answered, “If you like, I’ll accompany you on the journey.”

“You will?”

“Sure, I have nothing better to do,” said Jesus, folding hands.

“We should travel at night, I’ve done so for half a year to evade the praetorians,” Caecus suggested.

“That’s a good idea, what do you think?” said Joseph, looking to Jesus.

“I agree,” Jesus replied in the grossest of understatements, his father choking down laughter.

“What must we do?” asked Caecus.

“Follow the Euphrates north, crossing at a point where the current’s not as strong,” Jesus answered.

“Sounds good to me,” said Caecus, eager to leave the empire.

“We’ll take off early tomorrow night.”

A distraught Magdalene was sitting in a chair as Jesus entered their dark bedroom a little after three thirty, the others having bedded down for the night.

“Don’t you ever think of eating?”

“Let’s head to the fields.”

“You don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?”

“I prefer human blood, after all, I’m a vampire, not a hunter like Ganymede or Brutus who enjoy drinking the blood of animals.”

“I understand, but Caecus and I were discussing plans for his escape from the empire.”

“Couldn’t it have waited?”

“No, he and I are leaving tomorrow night.”

“Without me?”

“If you want to accompany us you’re more than welcome.”

“How far do you think we’ll have to go?”

“No more than a hundred miles into the mountains I figure.”

“Okay, as long as we can fly back.”

“Of course, let’s find something to eat.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Mary, opening the window and shutter, the couple transforming to fog and moving into the moonlit night.

The following evening, Jesus and Mary prepared for the journey north, they and Caecus attired in winter garb, fur lined leather trousers and jackets for Jesus and Caecus and a full length hooded coat for the Magdalene.

“How long will you be gone?” asked Joseph at the doorway, Jesus carrying a satchel of money, clothing and provisions for the mortal Caecus.

“Perhaps two weeks at most,” Jesus answered, a cloud of frost coming from his mouth as he spoke on the cold night.

“Take it easy son,” said Joseph, closing the door against the night’s chill.

Heading down the entrance road, Caecus asked, “Why are you bringing Maria, the trek to Armenia could be arduous.”

“I never travel anywhere without my wife,” Jesus answered.

“We have to find someone to eat soon,” whispered Mary.

“I’ll entrance him and then we’ll take something,” said Jesus.

“How do you know you can?”

“I already have as a precaution.”

“You’re thinking ahead for a change,” Mary observed, a smile crossing her face.

“Precisely,” said Jesus, ignoring the insulting implications of her remark.

Entering the near deserted town about an hour later, Jesus nodded to several citizens, including Drusus of Illyria, owner of the town hardware store and brothel.

“Good evening Julius the younger,” called Drusus, waving to him.

“A good evening to you friend Drusus,” said Jesus as they walked along.

Passing the garrison and Gavinal’s mansion, they continued about a mile further north, the road becoming unmaintained, weed riddled gravel, marked with a weathered sign stating: “ROAD ENDS – 500 CUBITS.”

“The end of the road,” Mary observed, looking to the sign.

“End of the road yes, but only the beginning of our journey to Armenia,” said Jesus.

Mary Magdalene shook her head at the obvious reply and retorted, “No shit, I was trying to make a joke with you.”

“I meant no offense,” said Jesus.

“Whatever,” said Mary, the road narrowing to a gravel path, a trail leading from the road.

“Where to from here?” asked Caecus.

“Up and over the mountain,” Jesus answered, waving a hand and hypnotizing the fugitive.

“Have a seat over there, we’re taking off for a bit,” said Jesus, pointing to a fallen log.

“Yes,” Caecus answered, Jesus and Mary walking off, transforming to fog just beyond view of their companion.

Sating their hunger for blood with a pair of boars, the vampiric couple returned to a statue like Caecus sitting on the trunk.

“Where to from here?” Caecus asked after Jesus released him, looking to the trail.

“Over the mountain, then east,” Jesus answered.

“It may be a hard climb,” said Caecus.

“Not at all, centurion Caius has said this trail heads to a pass over the mountain, he and his troops have hunted in the valley beyond,” Jesus replied.

“Really?”

“According to him, after the valley is another mountain, then a place we can cross the Euphrates into Armenia, south of a lake,” Jesus explained.

“Let’s go,” a resolved Caecus declared.

“Right,” said Jesus, the trio disappearing into the woods.

Arriving at the crest of the mountain a little after two, an exhausted Caecus asked, “Hey Julius, how about a breather?”

“Are you tired?” asked Jesus, not affected by the mountain ascent.

“Yeah,” said Caecus, letting out a sigh of fogged breath on the cold night.

“Let’s take a break,” Jesus agreed, looking to the moonlit sky, his consort brushing snow from a fallen log, sitting down on it.

“Want something to eat?” asked Jesus, looking to the fugitive.

“Please, what do you have?” asked a famished Caecus.

“Let’s see, cheese, a dozen boiled eggs, a loaf of bread, a piece of smoked pork, another of venison and a few gallons of water, considering you don’t care for wine,” Jesus replied, looking into the satchel.

“Cheese and eggs, with water,” Caecus answered.

“Help yourself,” said Jesus, slipping the bag from his shoulder and opening it before him.

“Thanks,” Caecus replied, grabbing food from the bag, gorging himself. “How much further have we to go?” he asked, mouth full of fine cheese.

“Several nights travel at least, look at the peak of the next mountain,” said Jesus.

“By the gods,” Caecus answered ruefully, looking to the moonlit peak after taking a gulp of water from a bag made from a calf’s stomach, offering it to Jesus.

“No thanks,” Jesus declined, hands out, his staffs of life only blood, wine or beer, never common water.

“It’s this or Caligula,” said a rueful Mary, knowing they would be feeding on animal blood for the next few weeks.

“I know that madam, it’s just I never imagined I – ”

“Would be an enemy of Rome,” Jesus finished, seating himself beside the Magdalene.

“Exactly,” said Caecus, looking west toward the Eternal City.

“Life is not, and never has been fair to anyone,” Jesus intoned stoically, looking to Caecus, recalling his unjust crucifixion.

“I know that, but I always thought justice – ”

“Justice, what is justice?” asked Jesus on the frigid night, a full moon behind his head.

“I don’t follow you,” said Caecus.

“Have you ever read Plato?” asked Jesus, looking to the fugitive.

“A little, my teacher Klysteros told me of him when I was a teenager.”

“You should have read more, verily I say, justice is an intangible, an ideal, a subjective, relative construct used for the usually dubious attempt at discerning that which – ”

“Meaning?” Caecus interrupted.

“Meaning like all ideas, friend Caecus, each has an arbitrary conception in his mind as to the ideal. For example, the internal perception of what justice should be, one always comparing what he perceives in the real world to that ideal.”

“What?”

“You’ve lost him,” said an understanding Mary, looking to Caecus, his eyes seemingly glazed over.

“What I mean is that justice is not always what you may think it is,” Jesus simplified, realizing such an encompassing statement was grossly inadequate, but accepting that Caecus was apparently incapable of understanding the full context of his original remark.

“I get it, I figured that out about six months ago,” said Caecus, revealing he had in fact understood the essence of what Jesus was trying to relate.

“Indeed,” Jesus replied, looking to the brilliant moon.

“So Caligula’s concept of justice is different than mine,” Caecus ventured.

“Thankfully, and most other people’s too,” a laughing Jesus replied as the Magdalene laughed and snorted.

“Found that humorous woman?” asked a smiling Jesus, looking to his beloved consort.

“You do have a way of saying things sometimes,” said Mary.

“You’re an intellectual aren’t you Julius?” asked Caecus, smiling at his remark, Jesus letting out a sigh.

“I guess you could say that,” an embarrassed Jesus answered.

“He’s a genius, but unfortunately seems to have no common sense at times,” Mary interjected from her repose on the log.

“How dare you say that!” Jesus exclaimed, looking to her.

“Prove me wrong, look at your past,” Mary retorted.

“The past is the past woman.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, you’ve changed?”

“You two are lovers?” asked an incredulous Caecus.

“She is my wife,” said Jesus.

“He is my husband,” said the Magdalene.

“From the way I’ve seen you spar with each other, that’s hard to believe,” Caecus observed.

“Nevertheless, it’s the truth,” said Jesus, looking to Mary, she smiling back at him.

“Who else can I fight with?” asked a rhetorical Mary.

“Maybe we should head down the mountain,” said Caecus, looking to Jesus.

“You’ve rested up?” asked Jesus.

“Not so much as that, I was worried you and your wife might kill each other.”

“Never in a thousand years,” Mary declared, Jesus leading the trio down the mountain.

Stopping at the mouth of a cave at sunup, Jesus said, looking to the eastern horizon, “We’d best enter this cave for the day.”

“Why?” asked Caecus, “There are no praetorians here, perhaps we should head across the valley to save time.”

“We’d best retire to the cave anyway, for rest,” Jesus replied, entrancing Caecus with a wave of a hand.

“That we should,” agreed a hypnotized Caecus.

“You do that well,” said Mary.

“Thank you woman,” Jesus replied, the trio stepping into the cave.

“Any bears around?” asked Mary.

“No, verily I say, you can smell them too.”

“A lot of good it did you last time.”

“Let’s get sleep,” said Jesus, motioning Caecus to the floor, he falling asleep within a second.

“Should we build a fire to keep him warm?” asked Mary, concerned for the fugitive.

“After what he’s been through I reckon he’s warm enough, besides, it’s too damned late to make one anyway, the sun’s on the rise,” Jesus answered, taking a seat on the floor of the cave.

“How long will he be out?” asked Mary, moving to his side, concerned citizen Caecus may rise before them.

“Until I release him,” Jesus answered, laying his head on the satchel.

“That’s good to know,” she replied, learning another lesson from her vampiric rabbi.

“Good day to you my woman,” said Jesus, moving an arm around her side, the sun outside moving higher.

“A good day to you Jesus,” Mary answered, laying her head on his shoulder in the chilly cave.

Waking at dusk, Jesus headed out to survey their surroundings, an evening mist descending on the chilly alpine valley, the dormant meadow thirty miles north of Tibernum.

The valley won’t be hard to cross, but the mountain certainly will, if not for us, for friend Caecus, thought Jesus, looking to the mountain in the distance, his consort waking, staring at the ceiling of the cave, then noticing Jesus standing at the mouth of their lair.

Studying the scene, Jesus noted the trail continued across the valley to the mountain beyond.

“Maybe it’s not as hard as it looks,” said a hopeful Jesus, studying the trail as it continued up the mountain.

“What’s happening?” asked Mary, rising from the cave floor.

“Nothing, let’s find something to eat before I wake Caecus.”

“Good idea,” said the Magdalene, both disappearing from the cave traveling as fog.

Returning as the moon was rising, Jesus released and awoke Caecus, remarking, “Wake up friend, it’s time to go.”

“It’s dark already,” said Caecus, stepping from the cave into the dim moonlight.

“Yes, traveling at night is best, as there’s no chance of praetorians discovering you.”

“Praetorians here?”

“One never knows,” Jesus replied, “We’ve taken you this far haven’t we?”

“That you have,” said the fugitive, looking to Jesus with a melancholy expression.

“What’s wrong friend?” asked Jesus.

“My wife and daughter, I love them with all my heart, but I will never see them again,” said Caecus, pursing lips in a tortured anger while clenching his fists, a white-hot hatred for the insane emperor.

“Probably not, I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do except save you from that maniacal bastard Caligula,” Jesus replied, an emotional Mary turning away and looking out to the night.

“I know friend Julius, and I thank you,” Caecus choked, in tears.

“Please find strength Caecus, we’ve another mountain to cross tonight,” said Jesus.

“How can I find strength after what has happened?” Caecus asked, voice cracking as tears ran down his cheeks, thinking of his life with his family in Valginum.

“I don’t know, I can’t answer that,” said Jesus, putting a hand to his forehead.

“Why are you doing this, just let me die,” Caecus cried, breaking down in sobs.

“I can’t allow – ” Jesus began.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” said a tearful Mary, moving to comfort the tormented Caecus.

Jesus stood stoically, unemotional, thankful his beloved consort had learned the meaning of justice. Calming their friend, they made their way to the wooded valley, crossing it over the remaining night.

“It must have been a hundred miles,” Mary declared as dawn approached.

“No more than thirty or so,” said Jesus, hypnotizing Caecus, intent on looking for a cave at the foot of the next mountain.

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s damn hard for a normal person to cover more than thirty a day, or night, on foot,” Jesus answered, looking to an exhausted Caecus, spying a sheltering cave in the distance.

The vampiric Christ found the reports from the garrison had been at the very least, inaccurate, as once they had crossed the second mountain, requiring another night of travel, two others lay in their path, bereft of trails, markers, or any other trace of Roman civilization.

“How the hell are we going to get over the next mountain, it’s nearly vertical and there’s no river in sight!” Mary exclaimed after an entranced Caecus had fallen asleep in their latest cave, the sun rising in the east.

“Never mind that,” Jesus replied, looking out to the morning.

“Are you insane?”

“Perhaps, considering all that’s happened over the past few years,” said Jesus.

“What?”

“I’m playing with you, I’ll handle it easily.”

“This clown can’t climb such rocks, how are we going to get him over the mountain?”

“If you’ll shut up I’ll tell you how,” Jesus retorted, staring at his combative consort.

“Tell me smartass, what are you going to do?”

Ignoring the insult, Jesus said, “Think a moment, we flew across the Hellespont as fog, carrying over five hundred pounds of gold and silver, do you think carrying him will be any problem for me, or even you?”

“No, it shouldn’t,” the Magdalene admitted, recalling their flight from Europe into Asian Anatolia.

“Exactly,” said Jesus, “I’ll entrance him at sundown and carry him over the mountain.”

“What if there’s another?”

“If there is we’ll do the same thing till we reach Armenia.”

“You think you have answers for everything.”

“Have I been wrong since I rose as a vampire nearly five years ago?”

“No you haven’t, excepting for the time I told you to forget about Caiaphas, after Decius told us to leave outside the garrison.”

“So noted and admitted, I defer to you on that error.”

“Oh,” a subdued Magdalene replied.

“Oh what?” asked a smirking Jesus, “Regardless of what you may think at times, I do know what I’m doing.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mary, looking to the floor of the cave in defeat.

“Forget it, let’s get sleep, we’ve a lot of work to do tomorrow evening,” said Jesus a little after eight, the couple falling into slumber shortly thereafter.

Heading over the mountain the next evening as fog carrying a hypnotized Caecus, Jesus and consort appeared in another valley, a distant group of mountains standing perhaps a hundred miles further off.  Now 200 miles north of Tibernum, a much slower Euphrates was flowing quietly from a lake a few miles eastward.

“The Kingdom of Armenia, it’s over there,” Jesus announced after releasing Caecus from hypnosis, the man looking to what he perceived as another world.

“How will I survive?” asked Caecus, nibbling on chunk of cheese pulled from a pocket.

“First I’d learn to speak Armenian, only in the western areas of Armenia is Latin spoken among the populace,” Jesus answered.

“Of course, but how will I cross the river, I can’t swim a stroke,” replied Caecus.

That’s no problem, I can, so can my wife,” said Jesus, looking to the shallow, slow flowing river.

“I can’t swim.”

“That doesn’t matter, I’ll carry you,” said Jesus.

Later, they emerged from the frigid river, a shivering Caecus standing on the eastern shoreline with Jesus and Mary.

“Let’s find shelter and a fire before we freeze to death,” said Jesus, not bothered by the cold, but very aware Caecus was. Wet to his chest, he led the party to a hillside cave a mile east of the Euphrates, gathering kindling and logs to build a much-needed fire. Striking a shower of sparks from flint and iron taken from the satchel, Jesus blew into a clump of dried grass, placing sticks above. The kindling caught and soon a warm fire was burning next to the mouth of the cave. The vampiric Christ headed into the cave, motioning Mary and Caecus out to the fire.

“Heat at last,” said a shivering Caecus, warming himself before the fire, Mary standing a few feet back, not bothered by the cold.

“Would you care for food friend?” Jesus asked, offering the satchel.

“Please,” said Caecus, taking the bag.

“Don’t forget, you’ll have to make it last,” Jesus admonished, watching Caecus gorging on smoked meat and stale bread.

“What will you do for food for the journey back?” a concerned Caecus asked, dropping the stale loaf into the satchel.

“Keep it, I’m a hunter,” Jesus replied, “Finding sustenance will be no problem on our return home.”

“It won’t?”

“No, the food and satchel are yours,” said Jesus, “Along with a gift, open the smaller bag in the bottom.”

“What’s this?” asked Caecus, lifting a heavy leather bag from the bottom of the satchel.

“Open it,” said Jesus.

Opening the bag, Caecus’ eyes widened, noting a hoard of Roman gold and silver. “Money!” a floored Caecus exclaimed, jaw dropping.

“A thousand aurei to get you started in your new life in Armenia,” said Jesus.

“I don’t know what to say,” Caecus replied, numb from the generosity of the tall Roman before him.

“Thank you will do.”

“I do thank you, friends Julius and Maria,” said Caecus, staring at the coins.

“It just occurred to me, you’re unarmed, while traveling you’ll need a weapon to defend yourself,” said Jesus, “Are you good with blades friend Caecus?”

“I was in the militia, why do you ask?” Caecus inquired, warming before the fire.

“I’ve an extra blade and wish to give it to you,” said Jesus, producing a nine-inch, ivory handled dagger from his jacket, handing it to Caecus.

“Are you sure?” asked Caecus, holding the blade in his hand.

“If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have given it to you.”

“I never can repay you for what you’ve done,” said Caecus in complete embarrassment.

“There’s no need of payment, all I ask is should you ever find another in similar circumstances, do your best to help them as we have helped you,” Jesus replied.

“A good suggestion, which I shall follow,” a nodding Caecus answered.

“Indeed, after our clothes have dried we should turn in for a fresh start in the morning,” said Jesus, winking to Mary.

“A good idea since we’ve left the empire,” a smiling Caecus replied, figuring they intended to accompany him further on.

Heading into the cave, they prepared to bed down, Jesus entrancing the man with a wave of a hand.

“Is he out?” asked the Magdalene.

“Yes,” said Jesus, intoning, “Sleep deep friend Caecus, until the dawn, and awaken with a fond memory of us, verily I say, good luck to you.”

“Well put,” Mary observed, Caecus slumbering on the floor of the cave, head on the satchel of food and money.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Jesus, the couple transforming to fog, leaving the warm, wealthy, snoring Caecus in the cave, a sharp dagger in his jacket. Covering nearly 100 miles heading south, they barely made it to the safety of a sheltering cave, the merciless sun on the rise. “That was close,” Jesus declared, staring out at the new day, the pair covering the last of their trek on foot, having been forcibly returned to human form as sol broke the horizon.

“Sometimes I wonder about you,” a smirking Mary retorted, taking off her tattered overcoat and spreading it across the floor.

“What do you mean woman?” asked Jesus, turning to her.

“You seem to have a death wish, finding this place nearly a half hour after sunup,” the Magdalene answered, lying on the floor of the cave to relax.

“We’re already dead,” Jesus corrected for perhaps the hundredth time.

“But not gone, though you pushed it this morning,” Mary retorted, touching a hand to her face and frowning.

“Yes, but it did prove something,” said Jesus, taking a seat beside his consort.

“What?”

“Cyril was wondering what would happen if we were transformed when the sun rose, and I now have an answer for him.”

“Is that all you have to say?” asked Mary, sitting up, both having fallen to the ground from nearly fifty feet as the sun’s rays touched them.

“What should I say?” asked Jesus, looking to his disheveled consort.

“Look at my face, half is ripped off!” Mary moaned, looking to a polished silver mirror, having hit a tree trunk and sent sprawling into a thicket as she landed.

“It’ll heal by tonight, look at my arm,” said Jesus, removing his torn jacket, his left arm slashed to the bone from a collision with a boulder at the cliffside.

Running her tongue through a gaping hole in her right cheek, flesh peeled to her ear and hanging from the jawbone, Mary attempted to push the torn flesh in position.

“That won’t work woman.”

“Your shoulder’s screwed up too,” Mary observed, knowing by nightfall that she would return to her normal appearance, regardless of the severe damage to her face.

“Weird,” she added, feeling her tongue with her fingers as it protruded through her cheek.

“It is?” asked Jesus, looking to his left.

“No, to your right,” Mary replied, “The bone’s showing.”

“Bad landing,” said Jesus, staring at his exposed shoulder blade, ripped flesh covering the torn fabric of his winter tunic.

A disfigured Magdalene broke into laughter, dropping the mirror, Jesus laughing loudly in their secluded lair, not another soul present for over eighty miles.

“Let’s get sleep,” Jesus suggested, taking his place beside his consort.

“I’m not tired, would you like to have fun?”

“What kind of fun?” asked a smiling Jesus, knowing the answer.

“You stupid bastard,” Mary retorted, giving him a passionate kiss.

“That kind of fun,” said Jesus after she released.

“What other kind is there?” asked Mary, lying on her back, her ripped, ghoulish face still attractive to vampire Jesus.

“Well – ”

“Shut up,” said Mary, giving him another passionate kiss.

Caecus woke a little after eight, Jesus and Mary bedding down a hundred miles south of him.

“Julius and Maria, where are you?” he asked, looking about his surroundings.

Silence was the reply as he stepped into the morning sunlight, the fire having died down to coals on the chilly morning.

“Perhaps they’re hunting,” said a doubtful Caecus, helping himself to a cold breakfast of smoked venison and the last of the eggs, washing the meal down with water.

“Where are they?” asked Caecus a little after ten, sitting in the cave. “They’re gone,” he declared a little after noon, stepping from the cave, satchel over his shoulder. “Head east, and I thank you Julius Chrysippus of Tibernum, wherever you are,” said Caecus on the desolate plateau, heading toward parts unknown in Armenia.

Caecus continued his trek, finding sanctuary in a western Armenian town called Tholtha at the turn of the year 38 CE. Learning the Armenian tongue and resuming his profession as architect, he later built fine structures for none other than the king of Armenia, the king paying him in fine gold, and giving him his beautiful eldest daughter for a wife in the year forty. I miss my family, but I also love my new wife and the son she has given me, thought Caecus as he lay beside his lovely, teenaged Armenian princess Delah, their firstborn sleeping between them in the fall of 41, Common Era. I wonder where he is, thought Caecus, fondly recalling Julius Chrysippus of Tibernum, now known among many in the empire, be they Jew, Roman, or Christian, as Jesus Christ – called by believers the Son of God.