John came to him in the nighttime hours. They lay together, without a word. He was a man of eloquent silences, this man who would come to be known as Jesus. He was a man who John the Beloved was named for; predestinator, passionate profit, this man who was his friend—sharp and firebrand, running the money lenders out of the temple, lashing the thieves and their dens in their hatred of him and the guilt of gold in their gilded eyes. There was a rich world outside Palestine. There were teams that would carry them. Magnificent steeds that would take them far away from the morrow.
But though John tried to convince this man who was also his lover, Jesus who would come to be named so many things, not all of them kindly, only shook his head no, twice. And the sounds of the night were the bleats of the herds of sheep and cattle. And the sounds of the night were heat come forecasting, heat come to lay them in sweaty embrace on John's pallet. He could not bear to see his friend go, for what would John do without him? There was only a hole of emptiness in his heart now and he touched his love on the chest and on the tips, fingertips that the Master kissed one at a time.
Jesus seemed weak now. His voice was slight and rasping when before it had been full and deeply bodied. He seemed even to shrink physically. As though he were un-aging. As though he was turning from age 33 backwards to boyhood and the days and the nights where he was lost to the lands of his secrets where he would tell no one of the adventures there. John touched Jesus' penis and found it flaccid. He touched the hood at the tip. Jesus pushed his hand away—gently.
"I can't stand to see you go through with it, my Lord," John said, not daring to look at the face with the fine black beard and the obsidian eyes and the dark skin that looked like the color of sable in the harsh punishing light of this land. "Not this way. Not to go through it at all. Please, there is more than time enough to leave."
"You mean to run away..." Jesus' voice should have been accusatory, but it was just far away and hollow instead. Oh Jesus, John thought, do something, hit me, scream at me, do something to hurt me so I will not pine away with your going. How can I stand to see you up there and broken boned and servile and a common thief thus displayed—
Jesus said, "Bring me some wine."
John heaved himself up wearily and brought his love wine.
Jesus drank of it deeply and in two gulps was finished with the cup, which he handed back to John. John took it and held it dearly for his beloved had touched it.
Jesus remained sitting now and he looked at the night, the final one he would see here. And John believed the final one he would see anywhere. For John had come to the conclusion his friend was quite mad. This world was too venal for a God of love. A God of vengeance, yes, a God of wrath and hell fire, yes...and though Jesus talked much of hell, he also talked of doing good for your neighbor, and of being kind, and of giving what you have to the poor and needy. But, John knew, Jesus was deluded, but still lovely.
A body that was, or had been, now it seemed wasting away, corded with muscles and big bronze hands and strong titan legs, and arms that freely engulfed everyone, man, woman, child, animals Jesus loved as well. When Jesus was around, there were his friends, there were his sycophants, the ones who loved to drop his name, the ones who loved to be seen with him, but no disciples here tonight, no memories but the Last Supper, which had been like a death knell.
"They don't care about you, my Lord; else why would there not be your servants here to carry you to safety? They only wanted things of you. They wanted to see you do your magic. To hear your words. To be around you. Now, they say, I have heard them, that your life is worthless and they have used you up and there is no more need..."
Jesus laughed, hollowly, like a teenage boy, who is quite frightened, but still willing to go through the fear for the order of a greater truth to come.
"Judas values me—values at least my death---"
John laid his head in Jesus' lap and touched him and tried to interest his friend, but it was not possible for either of them.
