“Is he the one who’s hunting the master so ravenously?” asked Jacob, stopping for a moment.

“Yes. He says he’s a disgrace to their house.”

They went out by the Gold Door of the Temple, passed through the Cedron Valley and began to march toward the Dead Sea. On their right they passed the garden and olive grove of Gethsemane. The sky above them was white and burning. They reached the Mount of Olives. The world had sweetened a bit. Light dripped from every leaf of the olive trees; flocks of crows dashed one after the other toward Jerusalem.

Andrew, his arm around Jesus, was speaking about his former master, the Baptist. The closer he came to his lair, the more he breathed in, with terror, the prophet’s leonine breath.

“He is the veritable Elijah. He rushed down from Mount Carmel to heal man’s soul once more with fire. One night, with my own eyes, I saw the fiery chariot circle over his head; another night I saw a crow bring in its beak a lighted coal for him to eat. One day I took courage and asked him, ‘Are you the Messiah?’ He shook as though he’d stepped on a snake. ‘No,’ he answered with a sigh, ‘I am the ox who draws the plow. The Messiah is the seed.’ ”

“Why did you leave his side, Andrew?”

“I wanted to find the seed.”

“Have you found it?”

Andrew pressed Jesus’ hand to his heart and blushed violently. “Yes,” he answered, but he spoke so softly that Jesus did not hear.

They descended slowly, out of breath, toward the Dead Sea. The sun poured flames over them until their heads rattled. In front of them the mountains of Moab towered higher and higher, an arid wall. Behind them, lime white, were the mountains of Idumea. The road wound and descended more and more. They were entering a deep well, and they all held their breath.

We’re going down to the Inferno, they were all thinking, and they could smell the tar and brimstone.

The light blinded them. They groped their way forward, their feet lacerated, their eyes burning. They heard bells: two camels passed-not camels, but mirages which melted away in the violent heat.

“I’m afraid,” whispered Zebedee’s younger son. “This is the Inferno.”

“Courage,” Andrew answered him. “Haven’t you heard that Paradise is at the heart of the Inferno?”

“ Paradise?”

“You’ll see shortly.”

The sun finally went down. The mountains of Moab turned dark purple, the mountains of Idumea, pink-bringing comfort to the eyes of men. Suddenly, at a twist in the road, their sight was refreshed-their sight and their bodies, as though they had stepped into cool water. What were those unexpected meadows directly in front of them, right in the sand; what were those waters which chuckled, and the pomegranates charged with fruit and the white, shaded cottages? The air was suddenly perfumed with jasmine and rose.

“ Jericho,” Andrew shouted happily. “They have the sweetest dates in the whole world here, and the most miraculous roses: if they wither, all you do is dip them in water and they revive.”

The night fell abruptly. The first lamps had already been lighted.

“To travel, watch the darkness fall, arrive in a village, see the first lamps lighted and have nothing to eat, nor anywhere to sleep, and to let everything depend on God’s grace and the goodness of men-this, I think, is one of the greatest and purest joys in the world,” said Jesus, stopping to enjoy fully this holy moment.

The village dogs scented the strangers and began to bark. Doors opened; lighted lamps appeared, searched the darkness and then returned inside. The companions went to all the doors, knocked, were cheerfully offered here a slice of bread or a pomegranate, there a handful of grapes or of green olives. They amassed all these alms from God and man, reclined in the corner of an orchard, ate, and immediately fell asleep. And all night long in their dreams they heard the desert shifting, lulling them to sleep like the sea. But Jesus, in his sleep, heard trumpets-and the walls of Jericho came tumbling down.

It was nearly midday when the companions, deathly pale, their tongues hanging out, reached the accursed Dead Sea. Fish that descended the current of the Jordan perished as they touched it; the few squat trees on its banks were like standing bones. The water was leaden, thick, motionless. If you were pious and you leaned over it, you could see two rotted whores, Sodom and Gomorrah, embracing on the black bottom.

Jesus got up on a rock and gazed into the distance: desolation. The earth was burning; the mountains had melted away. He took Andrew by the arm and asked him, “Where is John the Baptist? I see no one… no one…”

“Over there behind the reeds,” Andrew replied, “the river becomes calm. The water forms a pool, and the prophet baptizes. Let’s go find him. I know the way.”

“You’re tired, Andrew. Stay with the others. I’ll go by myself.”

“He’s savage. I’ll accompany you, Rabbi.”

“I want to go by myself, Andrew. Stay here.”

He started toward the reeds, his heart pounding strongly. He placed his hand over it and patted it to make it calm. A new flock of crows appeared from the desert and flew hurriedly toward Jerusalem.

Suddenly he heard someone walking behind him. He turned. It was Judas.

“You forgot to call me,” said the redbeard, smiling caustically. “This is the most difficult hour, and I want to be with you.”

“Come,” Jesus said.

They went forward silently, Jesus in front, Judas behind. They pushed aside the reeds and plunged their feet into the lukewarm river slime. A black snake gave a start, slid onto a rock and lifted its head and neck. It looked at them with its tiny, cunning eyes and hissed, half its body glued to the rock, half standing erect. Jesus stopped for a moment and waved his hand amicably at the snake, as though bidding it welcome. Judas lifted his oaken club, but Jesus put out his arm and restrained him.

“Don’t hurt it, Judas, my brother,” he said. “It too does its duty-by biting.”

The heat was roaring and the south wind which blew from the Dead Sea carried a heavy stench of rotting carcasses. Jesus now began to hear a wild, hoarse voice. Now and then he was able to distinguish a few words: “Fire… ax… barren tree…” and then, louder: “Repent! Repent!” All at once a large multitude burst into shouts and wailing. Jesus went forward slowly, craftily, as though approaching the cave of a wild beast. He pushed aside the reeds: the noise increased. Suddenly he bit his lips to prevent himself from screaming-for there he was, standing on his reed-like legs upon a rock which rose above the waters of the Jordan. Was this a man, a locust, the angel of Hunger, or the archangel of Revenge? Wave after wave of bellowing men broke upon the rocks-Ethiopians with painted fingernails and eyelashes, Chaldeans with thick brass rings in their noses, Israelites with long greasy sideburns. Frothing at the mouth, the south wind shaking him like a reed, the Baptist was shouting, “Repent! Repent! The day of the Lord has come! Roll on the ground, bite the dust, howl! The Lord of Hosts has said: ‘On this day I shall command the sun to set at noon; I shall crush the horns of the new moon and spill darkness over heaven and earth. I shall reverse your laughter, turn it into tears, and your songs into lamentation. I shall blow, and all your finery-hands, feet, noses, ears, hair-will fall to the ground.’ ”

Judas strode forward and took Jesus by the arm. “Do you hear? Do you hear? Look! that’s how the Messiah speaks! He is the Messiah!”

“No, Judas, my brother,” Jesus answered; “he who holds the ax and opens the way for the Messiah speaks in that way, but the Messiah does not.” He bent down, broke off a sharp green leaf and passed it between his teeth.

“He who opens the way is the Messiah,” the redbeard growled. He pushed Jesus in order to make him emerge from the reeds and show himself.