Chapter LIII.—Back from the Dead
FEELING of terror and vague apprehension possessed the soul of the procurator, Pontius Pilate. Convinced that he had consented to the murder of a divine personage, he was filled with remorse. Already he had forced a confession of the truth from the lips of the unwilling centurion—in spite of the bribe of Caiaphas. The story of the women who went to anoint the body of their Master and found an empty tomb, declaring that they had held converse with an angel and had even seen their risen Lord, together with the assertion of some of the Roman soldiers whom the bribe of the priests had failed to silence, began to be circulated everywhere. These stories, with other and conflicting reports, reached also the guilty ears of Herod Antipas, in his lordly palace to the north of Mount Zion. And now it was rumored that at the time of the resurrection of the Nazarene many others had arisen from their graves, and had appeared and were appearing to people in and about Jerusalem. The first day of the week, with its astonishing record, at length had passed, and it was night. Shut in a secluded chamber of his palace, alone with his accusing conscience, his guilty heart trembling with dread, sat Herod Antipas. "Let no man come into the chamber," he commanded. "I will spend the night alone." At the fifth hour of the night, the beautiful but sensual face of the woman Herodias looked in upon him as he sat in despondent and gloomy meditation by a window overlooking the open court. "Surely, I may come in, mine husband," ventured the seductive voice of the woman. A deep frown overspread the face of the tetrarch. "Of a truth, thou wilt not bid me nay, my lord!" The frown became deeper and more sullen. "There is place in the chamber to-night for none but Herod Antipas." A few moments later, he was alone. The hours passed silently. The rigid figure still sat moodily by the open window; his head, sprinkled heavily with gray, rested upon his hand. To-night Herod Antipas was reviewing the checkered scenes in his past life. But most absorbingly his thoughts dwelt upon the prophet Baptizer of the wilderness. Memory again pictures the stern face of the prophet as he addresses the vast concourse of people who flock to hear his words of wisdom in the wilderness of Judea. And Antipas remembers how, pricked in his own heart on account of his sins, he, the proud son of a kingly father, bends his haughty neck to this humble man, and, with many another, prince as well as plebeian, listens reverently to his preaching. Again he hears the earnest words which so often since that day have rung in his ears: "Where is thy lawful spouse, even the daughter of Aretas, King of Arabia?" Then, that other day,—the birthday of the King! Again he heard, in fancy, the music and the light trip of the dancer's feet, and once again the words rang out, "What will thou that I give thee?" and the awful answer, "I will that thou give me this day the head of John the Baptizer in a charger!" The solemn face of the Passover moon looked through the latticed window; and the yellow light, flickering and uncertain, from a single silver candlestick upon the marble table, fell over the guilty head. There was a soft rustle of draperies near him, and the echo of a quiet footfall. The bowed head was raised slowly as if in a dream. The startled eyes of the tetrarch met the eyes of the intruder. "Verily thou art John the Baptizer, whom I beheaded! Why dost thou pursue me?" "I am come that I may testify unto thee, and that thou mayest hear the words of my mouth; for by the power of the God of Israel am I raised from the dead, and many others with me, that they may testify that this Jesus of Nazareth, who verily was brought before thee and before Pontius Pilate for judgment, and whom thou didst revile, with thy men of war, is in very deed the Messiah of the prophets—the King of Israel—the Son of the Highest. And behold, He is raised from the dead!" "The King of Israel—the Messiah of the prophets!" faltered the tetrarch tremblingly; "the King of the Jews! I knew Him not; but surely mine own father, even Herod the Great, destroyed Him with the infants of Bethlehem, after that my father had been mocked by the magi of the East; and of a truth, my father Herod had hoped himself to be accounted the Messiah of Israel—the King of the Jews!" "Thy father destroyed Him not," declared the intruder. "But He hath been crucified by the Jews; and behold, He is alive again the third day, even as He declared. And lo, I am the Voice of one who did cry in the wilderness, 'Prepare ye the way, of the Lord; make His paths straight.' This Jesus of Nazareth is He upon whom the Spirit descended in form like to a dove. Thou, O Herod Antipas, hast taken my life from me, but He hath restored it. And behold, He hath risen from the dead, and is alive forevermore; and whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life." "Who am I, that I should have everlasting life?" echoed the trembling tetrarch, his grizzly head again drooping upon his bosom. When the tetrarch again lifted his head, his visitor was gone. It was the second night after the resurrection. Trembling with fear lest the crucified and risen Christ, or some other of the many witnesses who arose from their graves with Him, should appear to them, Annas and his guilty son-in-law had shut themselves, also, within their chamber. "Hast thou heard, my father," questioned Caiaphas, "that the people declare that many have arisen from the dead with the Nazarene, and that they have also appeared unto many? Even this day I have seen the man Bar-jona who followed the Nazarene, and was with Him in the garden,—even him whose nimble sword cut off the ear of the servant Malchus in the garden." "Sawest thou him?" questioned Annas testily. "Surely these pestilent fellows be afraid of us, and I have not seen one of them upon the streets of Jerusalem these two days. What said he?" "I said unto him, 'Ho, Bar-jona, where hast thou laid the body of thy Master?' and he said, 'He is indeed arisen from the dead, and many others with Him; and I have seen the old man Eliab, of Bethlehem, for he—'" "Eliab of Bethlehem!" repeated Annas in dismay. "Behold, he died at the hand of the soldiers of King Herod, when I was a man in my prime! Verily, I knew the old man well. But this Bar-jona hath spoken lies!" thundered the aged high priest; "and we will search out these followers of the Nazarene, and deliver them up to be punished—for they do trouble Israel." Even while he spoke, the heavy draperies at the doorway parted, and the face of a man with long, snowy beard appeared earnestly regarding them. "It is Eliab—the old man of whom we spake!" gasped the high priest, his face ashen, and his knees shaking with terror. "Verily, I am Eliab of Bethlehem; even from the sepulcher of the dead am I come, that I might bring thee word that Jesus of Nazareth hath indeed risen from the dead." "What sayest thou?" faltered Caiaphas, dropping to his knees in abject terror; "I know thee not!" "But thou knowest me, O Annas, high priest of Israel. Answer me: Why have ye put to death the Messiah of the prophets? Know ye not, O ye teachers, that the time spoken of by Daniel the prophet—even 'the midst of the week'—hath fully come? But why have ye put to death the Anointed One—the Shiloh of Jacob? Ye have put Him to death; but behold, He is alive forevermore!" The white-bearded lip of the aged high priest trembled, as if he would answer; but while he hesitated, the resurrected visitant had departed.