“ ‘Bless you,’ said God. ‘By my faith, I don’t find a single defect either. My hands deserve congratulations.’ But he glimpsed the cock and the pig, who, heads bowed, were not breathing a word. ‘Halloo, pig!’ shouted God, ‘and you, Your Excellency the cock, why don’t you speak? Maybe the world I created doesn’t please you? Perhaps something is missing?’ But they still did not say a word. The devil, you can be sure, had hissed instructions into their ears: ‘Tell him that something is indeed missing-a low-growing plant which makes grapes that you crush, put in barrels and turn into wine.’

“ ‘Look here, beasts, why don’t you speak?’ God shouted again, raising his gigantic hand. And then at last the two of them (the devil gave them courage) lifted their heads. ‘Master craftsman, what can we say to you? Congratulations to your hands; your world is fine-touch wood! But it lacks one low-growing plant which makes grapes which you crush, put in barrels and turn into wine.’

“ ‘Ah, so that’s it! Now I’ll show you, you scoundrels,’ said God in a fit of temper. ‘It’s wine you want from me, is it, and drunkenness and brawls and vomiting? Let the vine be born!’ He rolled up his sleeves, took some mud, fashioned a vine plant, planted it. ‘Whoever overdrinks,’ he said, ‘hear my curse: may he have the mind of a cock and the snout of a pig!’ ”

The companions burst out laughing, forgot the Baptist and buried their faces in the roast head. Judas was first and foremost. He split the skull in two and filled his hands with lamb brains. When the innkeeper saw the pillage he became frightened. They won’t even leave me a bone, he thought.

“Say, lads,” he shouted, “it’s fine for you to eat and drink, but don’t forget the late John the Baptist. Ah, his poor head!’ ”

They all froze with their portions in their hands; and Peter, who had chewed the eye and was getting ready to swallow it, choked. It would be disgusting to swallow it, but such a pity to, spit it out. What should he do? Of them all, only Judas was not bothered. The innkeeper filled the glasses.

“May his name be long enshrined in our memories. Alas! his poor decapitated head… But here’s to yours, lads!”

“And to yours, you old fox,” said Peter, gulping down the eye.

“Don’t worry,” answered the innkeeper, “I’m not a bit afraid. I keep my nose out of God’s business and I don’t give a damn about saving the world! I’m an innkeeper, not an angel or archangel like your worships. At least I’ve saved myself from that fate.” With this, he grabbed what was left of the head.

Peter opened his mouth, but suddenly his breath was taken away: a huge man, wild and pock-marked, had appeared on the threshold and was looking inside. The companions drew back into a corner. Peter hid behind Jacob’s broad shoulders.

“Barabbas!” growled Judas, scowling. “Come in.”

Barabbas bent his thick neck and perceived the disciples in the half light. His ugly face laughed sarcastically. “I’m delighted to find you, my lambs. I’ve gone halfway to China to dig you out.”

The innkeeper got up, grumbling, and brought him a cup.

“You’re just the one we needed, Captain Barabbas,” he murmured. He bore a grudge against him because every time he came to the tavern he became drunk, began brawls with the Roman soldiers who passed by, and it was the innkeeper who got into trouble. “Don’t start your old tricks again, pig-cock!”

“Listen, as long as the impure tread the land of Israel, I keep my fists up, so get any other idea out of your head. Bring food, lousy horse-hide!”

The innkeeper pushed forward the platter of bones. “Eat. You’ve got teeth like a dog’s: they break bones.”

Barabbas emptied his cup in one gulp, twisted his mustache and turned to the companions. “And where is the good shepherd, my lambs? I have an old account to settle with him.” His eyes were spitting fire.

“You’re drunk before you even start drinking,” Judas said to him severely. “Your valiant exploits have already caused us enough bother.”

“What do you have against him?” John dared to ask. “He’s a holy man. When he walks he looks at the ground so that he won’t step on the ants.”

“So that an ant won’t step on him, you mean. He’s afraid. Is he a man?”

“He rescued Magdalene from your claws, and now you cry over spilled milk,” Jacob had the courage to say.

“He crossed me,” Barabbas growled, his eyes growing cloudy, “he crossed me, and he’s going to pay for it!”

But Judas grabbed him by the arm and took him to one side. He spoke to him softly, hurriedly, with anger. “What business do you have here? Why did you leave the mountains of Galilee? The brotherhood chose them for your hide-out. Others are assigned here in Jerusalem.”

“Are we fighting for freedom or aren’t we?” Barabbas objected in a rage. “If we are, I’m free to do whatever enters my head. I came to see for myself about this Baptist with his signs and great wonders. Maybe he’s the One we’ve been waiting for, I said to myself. If so, let him come without more delay, take the lead, and begin the slaughter. But I arrived too late. They’d already cut off his head… Judas, you’re my leader-what have you got to say?”

“I say you should get up and leave. Don’t mix in other people’s business.”

“I should leave? Are you serious? I came because of the Baptist and I hit upon the son of the Carpenter. I’ve been hunting him for ages, and now that God has set him right in front of my nose, you say I should give him up?”

“Leave!” Judas commanded him. “That’s my business. Don’t stick your hand in it.”

“What’s your purpose? The brotherhood, for your information, wants him killed. He’s an emissary of the Romans: they pay him to shout about the kingdom of heaven so that the people will be hoaxed into forgetting the earth and our slavery. But you, now… What’s your purpose?”

“Nothing. I have my own account to settle. Beat it!”

Barabbas turned and threw a last glance at the companions, who were listening with cocked ears. “See you soon, my lambs,” he shouted at them maliciously. “No one gets away this easily from Barabbas. You’ll see, we’ll talk the matter over again.” He disappeared in the direction of the David gate.

The innkeeper winked at Peter. “He’s given him his orders,” he said to him softly. “Call that a brotherhood! They kill one Roman and the Romans kill ten Israelites. Not ten, fifteen! Watch out, lads!”

He leaned over to Peter and hissed in his ear: “Listen to me: don’t trust Judas Iscariot. These redbeards…”

But he stopped. The redbeard had just reseated himself on his stool.

John was troubled. He got up, stood in the doorway and looked up and down. The teacher was nowhere in sight. The day had begun; the streets were filled with people. Beyond the David gate all was forsaken: pebbles, ashes, not a single green leaf-nothing but standing white stones: tombstones. The air stank from the carcasses of dogs and camels. So much wildness frightened John. Everything here was stone: stone the faces of men, stone their hearts, stone the God they worshiped. Where was the Merciful Father that the teacher had brought them! Oh, when would the beloved master appear so that they could return to Galilee!

Peter rose. His endurance had given out. “Brothers, let’s go! He won’t come.”

“I hear him approaching,” whispered John timidly.

“Where do you hear him, clairvoyant?” said Jacob, who did not care for his brother’s dream phantasies. Like Peter, he was impatient to find the lake and his boats once more. “Where do you hear him, can you tell me?”

“In my heart,” the younger brother answered. “It is always the first to hear, the first to see.”

Jacob and Peter shrugged their shoulders, but the innkeeper snapped, “Don’t scoff. The boy is right. I’ve heard say that- Wait, the thing they call Noah’s ark, what do you think it is? Man’s heart, of course! Inside sits God with all his creatures. Everything drowns and goes to the bottom while it alone sails over the waters with its cargo. This heart of man knows everything-yes! don’t laugh-everything!”