out of molehills

are mountains made

by

Anne Honeymouse

1
 Year 23

Augustan Era

2
Province of Galilee

Country of Palestine

Empire of Rome

3
About the ides of November

It was three hours past midnight. The land thereabouts

was sparsely populated. A good time and place for a
secret meeting. At the edge of the desert, the land was
mainly flat. Well lit by a full moon. Almost impossible for an
enemy to attack from ambush.
The caravan from Parthia had more guards than usual
and their lord had provided the best of his men. He
considered the errand important and the chances of failure
had been eliminated as much as possible.
They had taken the wrong route on purpose. Deliberately
missing the last oasis by many miles. They were short on
water, what better reason to be travelling by night. More
importantly, they were able to approach the village from
the north.
The leading guards had stopped on the crest of a gentle
rise, waiting for the master merchant. In the distance a
cluster of buildings lay at the foot of a small hill. Only from
this direction could he see the signal fire, lit deep inside a
cave on this shadowed side of the hill. From where he
watched it looked like a new star hanging above the
village. The merchant waved the caravan on ‘No Romans
in the area.’
As they got nearer, Jewish rebels, dressed as
shepherds, abandoned their sleeping flocks and kept
pace, guiding them to the inn’s stable. The rebel leader
Seth waited inside with his commanders. Whilst the rest of
his men replenished their dry waterskins, the merchant
and his bodyguards entered leading an ass that bore two
clay pots.
He patted the load. ‘The gold is hidden inside the jars
filled with incense. Our great king’s contribution to the
struggle to free your country from the Romans. It amuses
him that their own coins will pay for the uprising.’ Palestine

4
had been conquered sixty years previously but the
populace was not yet inured to occupation.
‘Slow their expansion to your own kingdom,’ thought
Seth bitterly, but told the merchant to thank his king. The
caravan left quickly, their main mission completed. As his
men came in, Seth recalled an old prophecy that said the
saviour of the Jews would arrive on an ass. He shared this
and his men cheered for they thought an oracle had
blessed their cause.
The rebels would journey south to their homes the next
day, but Seth would tarry. He had brought his wife, heavy
with child, to allay suspicion. The babe was due any day
now and he would await its birth before returning to his
native town.
He went back to his room in the inn. His ‘son’ was
already delivered, asleep in a manger. Gently, Seth picked
up the child. Disturbed, he woke and opened his eyes.
Blue eyes. Roman eyes. Seth stifled a shocked cry. His
wife had sworn she had given up whoring when they
married, but obviously she still plied her old trade. He
turned, his arm raised, but she lay asleep, exhausted. He
would beat her the next day, when she could feel it.

5
 Year 15

Tiberian Era

6
Province of Galilee

Country of Palestine

Empire of Rome

7
About the ides of January

Onus was slowly wandering the streets of Nazareth. The

sun was past midday. His father was expecting him to
help with the carpentry. He was already late.
Passing through the Square of Wells he heard running
footsteps behind him. On turning, a young woman rushed
into him and fell to the ground. He gazed upon her slim
body lustily. Her face was pretty, but her eyes crossed.
Perhaps she had seen two of him and dodged the false
one.
A mob ran from an alley beyond her, then slowed their
approach. A voice called out ‘Stand aside.’ Onus looked
up. The men were clutching stones.
‘What is her crime?’ he asked.
The same voice answered ‘She is a prostitute.’
Onus looked the crowd over, recognising most faces. He
called to the eldest ‘Joshua, even married I have seen you
in the brothels.’ Then the youngest. ‘And Samuel, surely
your balls have dropped and cock risen many times by
now.’ Whose faces turned red. The group eyed each other
nervously, wondering who would next be taunted.
Onus saw they were faltering. ’Let he who is virgin cast
the first stone,’ he offered. Grumbling amongst
themselves, they each and every turned away. Onus
again looked at the woman. Her eyes were wide, adoring.
‘How easily are all fools swayed,’ he thought.
The woman spoke for the first time. ‘Master, how can I
thank you?’
‘I’ve nothing planned for the afternoon, and no money,
but you do owe me one,’ he suggested.
‘Come,’ she said, rising and taking his arm. ‘I have a
room in the Persian quarter. On Mazda Lane.’
* *
Onus arrived home after suppertime. The table was
empty. His mother hadn’t prepared a meal for him. His
father was in a foul temper. ‘If you don’t work, you don’t

8
eat,’ he shouted. Onus stood there sullenly. He accepted
the scolding. They were happening more frequently those
days.
Seth stared at his son without seeing him. His wife’s son
really. He was certain he himself was not the father. Ever
since he was born he had been a disappointment in so
many ways. Grabbing a blanket, Seth headed for the door.
‘I’m going in the wilderness to pray,’ he told his wife.
Onus watched his father leave. Every month or so he
said he was spending the night under the stars. Not
always after they had rowed. Onus knew his father was
keeping a secret. In the morning’s, on his father’s return,
Onus could smell stale perfume on his clothes. He was
seeing another woman. Angry now, he decided to follow
his father and confront him wherever he met his mistress.
He left the house at a run, before his father was lost to
sight.
* *
Onus had been on the trail nearly two hours. His father
really had gone into the wilderness. Onus wondered why
he was travelling so far. No one lived out there. The sun
had set and the last light was fading. Soon it would be
dark as pitch. He could trip and break a leg. He shivered.
The wind was getting up and it was the coldest time of the
year. He was hopelessly lost, but would not call to his
father for help. As he walked into a shallow dip, he
decided to sleep there. The wind passed over him when
he lay down. Cursing his father to hell, he drew his robes
tight and closed his eyes.
* *
Onus blinked. The sun had risen above the edge of the
dip and shone in his eyes. He stood and looked around.
No one else in sight. His father would have risen with the
dawn and be home by now. As he emptied his bladder,
watched a vulture fly overhead and land on a on a pile of
boulders. Their shape seemed familiar. Memory stirred.

9
He had been here once before, as a small child. He had
played as his father dug a hole.
His curiosity was aroused. He walked towards the rocks,
searching the ground. He was looking for a large flat
stone, surrounded by damp earth. He remembered that
day long ago, copying his father, pissing on ground where
he didn’t want plants to grow.
Within minutes he had found it. The sun not yet strong
enough to dry the soil. On the surface much like
thousands of other slabs. No reason why anyone would
attempt to move if they didn’t know something lay below.
He raised it a handspan then slid it over. Uncovered was a
wood lined hole. It contained a polished cedarwood box.
Onus recognised his father’s hand.
He kneeled and hefted the box. It was heavy and he
heard the clink of metal on metal, moving inside it.
Opening the box, he was assailed by a strong waft of
incense, just like the smell on his father’s clothes. As he
blinked away tears, the sun was reflected back at him.
The box held gold. Over three hundred coins stamped
with the head of a roman emperor.
He filled his purse, and then re-buried the hoard. He
carried it over a mile from its previous resting place. He
didn’t want his father finding it. He was feeling thirsty,
hungry and overwhelmed. He set off sunwards, knowing
that if he kept moving east he would reach water. Now he
could also buy food. And he needed time to think.
* *
Onus was sitting by the River Jordan, slaking his thirst.
Further along, on the opposite bank, was an inn. In front of
it, a man was belly deep in calm water, having a rant. A
hundred paces more and white water was breaking noisily
over rocks as the river sought lower ground.
Behind the inn, a man and his guards had ridden up. As
his men tended the horses he walked round the building to
the river’s edge. ‘You are the Baptist,’ he stated rather
than asked and waded out to join him.

10
 The Baptist had not seen or heard the guards and
assumed the man to be on his own. After exchanging a
few words he pushed the man’s head under water. Drew a
knife strapped to his leg. Stabbed the man through the
heart and cut his purse strings. Well practised moves. He
pushed the corpse into the current to be borne away over
the rapids. ‘How many times do I have to tell you people?‘
he roared. ‘Take a breath before you go under.‘
He started towards dry land, to check in private, his
gains. The guards had rounded the inn. Their captain
sent a man to the floating body. Who signalled a finger
across his throat. ‘Take him,’ said the captain, pointing at
the Baptist. ’Let him explain the death to Herod.‘
Onus had been engrossed. Unaware that someone had
joined him. He was startled by a voice close by. ‘This land
is full of thieves,‘ it said with a heavy accent. ‘A man of
means should keep only bronze in his coin pouch and
hide his real wealth elsewhere about his body.‘
Onus turned and saw an oldish man with torn robes
patting at a swollen eye with a wet rag. ‘I myself learned
that lesson the hard way this last night,‘ he continued.
‘Still, the robbers left me a few items I can trade and I
have friends in Jerusalem.‘
Looking at Onus’s threadbare clothing and knife at his
waist, he realised he may still be in danger. ‘Forgive me,
the bang on my head has made me forget my manners. I
am insulting you and your countrymen.’ He apologised. ‘I
am Matthaeus of Greece.’
‘I am Onus of Galilee’ was the reply. ‘How do you come
to be so far from your own country?’
‘My old bones don’t like the cold and your country is mild
in the winter,’ replied the Greek. ‘Far to the north it
becomes so cold that a river like this will freeze so thick it
will bear a man’s weight and he can cross from bank to
bank.’
‘Walking on water,’ considered Onus. ‘It sounds
wondrous.’

11
 Matthaeus chuckled. ‘You have a sharp mind. I have told
that simple fact to many people over the years, but none
have expressed their understanding of it so clearly.’
‘Let us away to the inn to break our fast,’ offered Onus. ‘I
am sure we are both hungry and I would trade more tales
of your adventures for a meal.’
* *
After both men had eaten their fill, they sat quietly for a
while. Onus was considering his new place in the world.
With wealth he could become a man of importance but in
order to match wits with others of his new found status he
needed an education. The Romans, owners of the world,
used Greek teachers.
‘Master,’ he beseeched. ‘I would ask that you abide here
awhile and that I may learn from you. I would pay for food
and board and a stipend for your journey onwards.’
Matthaeus looked at him. The man had a keen
intelligence, yet was clearly agog like a cretin, at his
stories. Still, however the gods provide. His own body no
longer healed so quickly and he needed rest. He also had
the tutor’s desire to pass on knowledge to a student.
‘Agreed,’ he said at last. ‘And I would hear of your own
life. Let us toast to seal the bargain. Pass the ewer.’
‘Only water?’ mused Onus.
Matthaeus took hold of the pot and after a short prayer
poured a crimson liquid into Onus’s cup. Who gaping cried
‘You have turned it to wine.’
The Greek laughed. ‘Merely added, whilst your attention
was elsewhere, some crystals which gave up their colour.
It would now taste vile. Interestingly, like wine, it would
make you vomit and leave you with a headache when you
woke.’

12
About the kalends of March

Standing on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, Onus was

waiting for the fishing boats to return with the afternoon
catch. He was stroking the fine wool of his new robe. He
had spent almost six weeks with Matthaeus. The Greek
had continued south, on to Jerusalem. Onus had turned
north. He needed to keep his fortune safe and he had
heard of a bull of a man who could break stone with his
bare hands. Who was at that moment afloat.
Onus was recalling a lesson he had from Matthaeus. His
sponsorship of the traveller had borne much knowledge.
‘Religion is the greatest power in the world. Greater than
money, faith can make men overcome fear of death. To
be a priest is to hold power, over even kings. There are
many tales in my own country of how the gods would
seduce women and have children by them. Such as
Heracles who became a great hero loved by all. So to
answer your original question of who would men most
follow? The human offspring of that which is divine.’
The Romans had named Onus’s mother Mare because
they all rode her. But ‘mare’ was also their word for ‘sea’.
He sat, lost in thought. Gazing at the horizon where the
heavens caressed the waves. Contemplating how
coincidence and deceit may combine to create a
believable untruth.
* *
As the sun was setting flocks of gulls in the distance
came nearer. Beneath them specks grew into boats and
beached. Catches were unloaded by firelight and Onus
approached.
‘I seek The Rock’ he called.
‘Why, stranger?’ came a hoarse voice.
‘I’m making a journey to Jerusalem. I have need of
bodyguards.’
A few lifted their heads with interest as a huge shape
appeared from the lee of a boat nearby and came close.

13
Onus was well pleased. The giant would terrify most
people.
‘What is your true name?’
‘It depends on who is looking for me, but I was born
Peter.’
Onus considered this. He would need to come up with a
more worthy name for himself. Matthaeus had explained
the meaning his father had endowed him at birth.
‘We’ll need a dozen men. Rouse me at the inn at
daybreak.’

14
Province of Judaea

Country of Palestine

Empire of Rome

15
About the nones of April

It took five weeks to come within sight of Jerusalem. At

first, Onus using every opportunity to practice his street
magic and offer his opinions to any, often slow-witted, who
would attend. He seemed to crave acceptance from all but
was generally ignored by the prosperous and the learned,
who gave him little credence. Peter became his close
companion, often confiding in him his thoughts and using
him in demonstrations.
Somewhere along that road, teaching begat preaching.
Onus had found that no one listened better than those
with empty bellies and purses. Or those mangled and
maimed by illness and injury. Simple promises of full
tables and whole bodies in the afterlife left them rapt with
hope in his wake. At least for a couple of days, until the
pressure of their dismal lives returned their attention to
misery.
Approaching Jerusalem, he decided to announce his
coming by being free with the vast majority of the people.
The poor and starving. Even in Rome, the centre of
civilisation, the mob of hungry citizens was held in check
by the handing out of grain.
He turned to Peter. ‘Let it be told. There is free food this
afternoon on the slopes of the Mount of Olives. Send the
men out with a cart. To buy five loads of bread and two of
fish.’
Before doling out the food he would let them know who
was their benefactor. A small seed of goodwill he hoped
would bear fruit in later days.
* *
Hours later a crowd of thousands had gathered. Onus
gazed down upon the throng. ‘Behold Peter,’ he shouted.
‘A shy man, pious and devout.’ Who stepped forward.
A small tree trunk had been placed across two boulders
before him. He drew his gladius, a sword favoured by the

16
Roman army. With half a dozen powerful strokes he
cleaved the wood in pieces.
‘When he is filled with the power granted by heaven, the
weapons of our enemies cannot harm him’. Peter held the
handle and tip and slowly bent them round until they met.
The crowd cheered and Peter threw the now useless
sword at the feet of the nearest onlookers to test and
vouch the strength of the metal.
‘Now we shall pray,’ continued Onus. ‘Then we shall eat.’
The multitude roared even louder.
* *
That evening, passing into Jerusalem Onus added up his
costs. He was running short of funds. He rented rooms for
himself and his men at the first inn that could take them
all.
* *
The next morning Onus was in the temple precinct. Peter
was waiting at the entrance. Onus sat at the table of a
moneylender. The man was about to make an offer, or
not. He held a coin Onus had produced up to the light,
weighed it on a scale. His greedy eyes shining with
avarice, he reluctantly returned it.
‘The gold aureus of Augustus. A very worthy coin. And
you say you have many more in your distant fastness.’
The good points concluded the lender listed the negatives.
‘But you have no property or assets in Jerusalem. Are
unknown to the noble houses and merchants and have no
letters of introduction.’
This was the third time Onus had heard all this. His
anger rising, he made ready to leave.
The moneylender had not yet finished his observations.
‘Word from the road is that you are generous, an alms
giver. Also a cheap trickster. Perhaps you would make my
money disappear, with no intention of repayment?’
‘Parasite.’ Raged Onus tipping over the table and
scattering the apparatus. He ran out kicking at the other
two he had visited.

17
 * *
Onus brooded for the rest of the day. At the evening
meal he spoke to his men. ’This is the last supper we will
share in Jerusalem. In the morning we will start back for
Galilee.’
Most were already into the wine, uncaring. They just did
whatever Peter ordered, day to day.
One of their number was more alert. He would drink little
that night, he had an early errand. He felt little loyalty to
the group, always having been regarded as an outsider,
though he had been with them from the beginning. Born in
Jerusalem, his family had moved north when he was still
suckling. His parents had been killed before he knew his
name. As he came from Judaea, the Galileeans simply
called him Jud. Lucky to survive, he grew up in no way
grateful to his adopted countrymen.
Onus was drinking heavily, cursing his stupidity in not
transporting his full wealth. He would return and set
himself up in this city. There were many poor folk here.
Easy converts to his thinking. He had learned enough of
how they responded to his coaxing. His teachings would
sweep like a fire through the populace. He just needed the
initial authority riches brought.
* *
An hour before dawn, whilst the others were asleep, Jud
slipped from the inn.
* *
Mid morning. The men were sat at tables outside the inn,
waiting to leave. Peter went back inside. He opened the
door to a room and found Onus stuffing the last of his gold
up his arse to keep it safe.
Outside, four armed soldiers, accompanied by priests
and led by Jud approached the inn. With no one to instruct
them, and their strongest fighter absent, the men fled.
Jud spoke to the chief priest, ‘He was not among them.
He must still be inside, with his bodyguard.’

18
 Just then, Onus and Peter stepped out of the inn. ‘Arrest
him,’ commanded the priest. He passed a heavy purse to
Jud. Who moved on.
Onus stood rooted to the spot in shock. Peter, used to
combat, immediately drew his sword and circled the
soldiers to split their forces. Two went and grabbed Onus,
the others crossed swords with Peter. Who raised his
weapon for a mighty overhead blow at the nearest foe. It
was blocked by the iron rim of his shield. But Peter’s blade
broke off and hit the legionary on the head, cutting his ear.
Constant bending had weakened the metal.
With a scream he dropped the handle. Turning he picked
up a table and threw it knocking aside the two soldiers.
Freedom beckoned and he ran to it.
‘Leave him,’ ordered the priest, nodding in the direction
of Peter’s flight. ‘We have the one we want.’
Onus was taken to the prison next to the magistrate’s
offices. With little resources to waste on criminals, it was
merely a high walled yard. Whilst guards stood in the
shade, Onus and others sat in the full glare of the sun. He
crawled over to a thorny bush. He tore off a few branches
and wove them in his hair in a vain attempt to block the
heat and bright light.
* *
Peter had caught up with Jud. Backed him beneath a
tree down a dead end alley.
‘Why did you betray our master?’ asked Peter, his hand
twisting Jud’s scarf so he could not cry out.
‘The dice have not been kind to me and I am indebted,’
he gasped. ‘Look, they gave me reward.’
Peter opened the purse. ‘It is but silver.’
‘30 pieces. I will share,’ offered Jud.
‘Fool,’ Peter’s breath was sour in Jud’s face. ‘We were
nigh on returning to the seat of his wealth. The simpleton
trusted me like no other. Once he revealed his gold, I
would have robbed him of it.’

19
 Unable to control his rage any longer he threw his fist
into the other man face, smashing the jaw. Then twisted
the scarf tighter, strangling him. Peter lifted the body and
hung it by the scarf from a branch of the tree. Let people
think he had done the deed to himself. Always an ugly
man, the bulging eyes, sparse whiskers and long jaw gave
Jud the aspect of an ass.
* *
Onus had been sat in the sunlight for three hours when
he was brought before the magistrate. He had not been
given food or water. He was thirsty, sweating and light-
headed. As usual a large crowd had gathered to watch
proceedings.
The magistrate was tired and wasted no time. ‘Who
bears witness against this man?’
The chief priest stepped forward. ‘I was there when he
attacked the moneylenders at the temple.’
Hardly the most serious crime on trial here, thought the
magistrate. ‘How answers the accused?’ he asked.
Aware of the presence of important men, but not quite
following events, Onus gave voice to his meandering
thoughts ‘Your eyes have been made blind to my
greatness, but now do I reveal my true self. Supplicate
now and bend the knee.’
One person sneered, ‘Perhaps he thinks he wears a
crown.’
‘Aye, behold the King of the Jews at court,’ laughed
another.
Onus was eager to continue. ‘I am no mere monarch, but
the Christ foretold. I am Zeus, light of heaven.’
‘Blasphemy,’ screamed the chief priest, ‘He should be
crucified.’ The crowd shouted their approval.
‘Silence,’ roared a centurion, at a signal from the
magistrate. Who sat back considering much more than
had so far been shared with the spectators.
‘Damn these priests with their petty squabbles,’ he
thought. ‘This man was obviously touched by the sun.

20
Was their religion so weak that they feared the rantings of
one who had seen a mirage in a desert? His was the
power of Rome but the priests held the populace in a tight
grip. He had to give care to their gripes. They could make
life difficult for the occupying forces in a dozen ways.
He made his decision. This was a wildman from the north.
The example he would make of him would appease the
priesthood but have little other consequence.’
He addressed the expectant faces. ‘At his arrest, a
legionary was injured. The law is clear.’ Ignoring the
priest’s complaints. ‘Harming a Roman citizen or soldier of
the emperor is punishable by death. I judge him guilty.
Take him to the place of execution, that all may view his
perfidy and see that, be they beggar or king, the justice of
Caesar upholds and enfolds all.’
In the crowd, Matthaeus turned to a companion. ‘I fear
my student has taken my lessons far too seriously. See
what little amends you can make.’
As the magistrate was readying to leave, his work for the
day completed, a man approached and bowed.
‘Greetings. I am Seth of Aram. Although unknown to me, I
hear by his speech that the condemned is a native of my
own region. I would request the body for customary burial.’
He held out a bag of coins.
‘Granted.’ Said the magistrate, passing the bribe to his
secretary.
* *
Early morning on the Sabbath. A thin mist was hanging
over the stream. There was a faint blur of brightness in
what Peter assumed was the east. True dawn was less
than an hour away. Few would be out at that time on that
day.
He had spent two days in hiding, cutting his hair and
beard although his sheer size made disguise difficult. The
previous night he had discovered where the body of Onus
had been laid. He was headed there now. Clinging to a

21
log, floating down a stream. He was searching for an area
of bank where the reeds had been cut away.
Spotting his destination, he kicked and steered towards
the gap. He landed the log and stood from the water.
Peter shivered, a slight breeze was blowing and his tunic
was cold against his skin. The mist would soon be gone
so he moved quickly through the garden.
He found the sepulchre, closed off by a huge stone. The
massive door would defy three men, but so would he,
thought Peter grimly. Straining his mighty muscles, he
finally rolled the stone back into its original grooves.
He dragged the body out of the building, ripping the
shroud away from the head. It was his former master. He
threw the corpse over his shoulder. He would take it to the
stream. He now only had a filleting knife and did not want
to risk being caught in a room with only one way out,
almost weaponless.
A few strides from the bank he stepped on something
hard. Whoever cut the reeds had left a sickle blade. Much
better for butchery. He dropped the body and hacked at
the flesh at the back. The blade hit on metal and Peter
dug his fingers in the bowels. He cleaned the coins on his
clothes and dropped them in his pouch.
He pushed the body down under thick mud where the
soil had been churned collecting water. He then cut some
reeds to lay over the blood and guts on the ground. A man
with a violent past, Peter was well versed in the ways of
concealing the demise of his victims.
As he was on his knees spreading the reeds about, a
voice came from behind him. ‘You there.’
Looking back, Peter saw a legionary, sword drawn, a
veteran taking no chances. ‘What are you doing?’
Peter slowly got to his feet. The sickle was out of reach.
‘Just gardening, sir.’
The soldier moved a step closer, taking more interest.
‘Are you not a companion of the false messiah lately
crucified?’

22
 ‘No sir, I have no time for such things. I have to get the
reeds to the basket makers.’
The soldier’s eyes travelled over Peter. Whose hands
were soiled. The forearms bore scars but more likely from
ropes or nets, not blades. ‘Curse these bearded Jews,’ he
thought, ‘they all looked the same.’ The man’s tunic was
covered in blood and shit stains, probably from birthing a
lamb. Maybe even sired it, he thought with a grin.
Then the breeze blew from the stream and the man’s
stench hit him. He could think of no reason why a
renegade would be here, doing this. ‘Then be about your
business.’ The soldier managed and rushed away,
seeking fresh air.
Peter waited until the footsteps had died away. He
waded into the stream, finding the log and letting the
current take him.
As its leading edge cut the horizon, a cock crowed
greeting to the resurrected sun.

23
 City of Athens

Country of Greece

Empire of Rome

24
About the kalends of August

Matthaeus sat back with a satisfied burp. He had just

finished a meal in his favourite inn. He was glad to be
back, feeling secure at last, in his home city.
Those last wanderings abroad had been the most
dangerous he had known. He had three great loves, wine,
stories and journeying, but he knew the time had come. In
future winters he would don an extra robe and exchange
the pack for the pen.
A well dressed young man who had been watching him
eat picked up a jug and two cups and approached.
‘Greetings, I am Marcus Lucretius, scholar and scribe of
Rome. I am seeking amusing tales of the East to entertain
the patrician families. The innkeeper informs me you are
lately returned from Syria?’
‘Greetings, I am Mattaeus, scholar and scribe of Athens.
Sit and let us share the flask,’ came the reply. ‘You can be
the first westerner to hear the true story of the lunatic from
the frontier provinces who became a god for a day.’
* *
Later, in his room, Lucretius decided to make notes of
the more hilarious parts of the saga before the wine had
its way with his memory.
Whilst he himself was grateful for the Greek’s mainly
factual telling, the Romans were a more demanding
audience, appreciative of wild exaggeration and double
meanings. A warrior race, they hated a sad fate, even for
their enemies. The ending would have to be something far
more glorious.
He opened his satchel, took out a wax tablet and stylus
and started ‘The mad messiah of Judaea.’
But no. Whilst the unravelling of the comedy would be
unsubtle, paradoxically the title should give no clue to the
plot. He smoothed the writing surface with his fingers, the
weather was hot and the wax pliable.

25
 He thought a moment, decided on simplicity and headed
this work ‘The Jew Zeus of Nazareth.’

26
 Principal Characters

Onus - the Jew Zeus

his mother - the Mare

his mother’s husband - the Jew Seth

his lover - the Mare of Mazda Lane

his bodyguard - Peter, the Rock

his betrayer - Jud

his biographers - Matthaeus, Marcus Lucretius

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 Glossary

AhuraMazda - Persian deity

Christ - (literal) saviour

Mare - (slang) prostitute

Onus - (literal) burden

Zeus - Greek deity,

(literal) light, sky, heaven

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