Lamb: the Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal

in a circle around a fire pit. They were all looking down and seemed to be caught in some glum prayer. Even Matthew was there, when he should have been at his job collecting taxes in Magdala.
    “What’s wrong?” asked Joshua.
    “John the Baptist is dead,” said Philip.
    “What?” Joshua sat down on the log next to Peter and leaned against him.
    “We just saw Bartholomew,” I said. “He didn’t say anything about it.”
    “We just found out,” said Andrew. “Matthew just brought the news from Tiberius.”
    It was the first time since he’d joined us that I’d seen Matthew without the light of enthusiasm in his face. He might have aged ten years in the last few hours. “Herod had him beheaded,” he said.
    “I thought Herod was afraid of John,” I said. It was rumored that Herod had kept John alive because he actually believed him to be the Messiah and was afraid of the wrath of God should the holy man perish.
    “It was at the request of his stepdaughter,” said Matthew. “John was killed at the behest of a teenage slut.”
    “Well, jeez, if he wasn’t dead already, the irony would have killed him,” I said.
    Joshua stared into the dirt before him, thinking or praying, I couldn’t tell. Finally he said, “John’s followers will be like babes in the wilderness.”
    “Thirsty?” guessed Nathaniel.
    “Hungry?” guessed Peter.
    “Horny?” guessed Thomas.
    “No, you dumbfucks, lost. They’ll be lost !” I said. “Jeez.”
    Joshua stood. “Philip, Thaddeus, go to Judea, tell John’s followers that they are welcome here. Tell them that John’s work is not lost. Bring them here.”
    “But master,” Judas said, “John has thousands of followers. If they come here, how will we feed them?”
    “He’s new,” I explained.

    The next day was the Sabbath, and in the morning as we all headed to the synagogue, an old man in fine clothes ran out of the bushes and threw himself at Joshua’s feet. “Oh, Rabbi,” he wailed, “I am the mayor of Magdala. My youngest daughter has died. People say that you can heal the sick and raise the dead, will you help me?”
    Joshua looked around. A half-dozen local Pharisees watched us from different points around the village. Joshua turned to Peter. “Take the Word to the synagogue today. I am going to help this man.”
    “Thank you, Rabbi,” the rich man gushed. He hurried off and waved for us to follow.
    “Where are you taking us?” I asked.
    “Only as far as Magdala,” he said.
    To Joshua I said, “That’s farther than a Sabbath’s journey allows.”
    “I know,” Joshua said.
    As we passed through all of the small villages along the coast on the way to Magdala, people came out of their houses and followed us for as long as they dared on a Sabbath, but I could also see the elders, the Pharisees, watching as we went.
    The mayor’s house was large for Magdala, and his daughter had her own sleeping room. He led Joshua into the bedchamber where the girl lay. “Please save her, Rabbi.”
    Joshua bent down and examined the girl. “Go out of here,” he said to the old man. “Out of the house.” When the mayor was gone Joshua looked at me. “She’s not dead.”
    “What?”
    “This girl is sleeping. Maybe they’ve given her some strong wine, or some sleeping powder, but she is not dead.”
    “So this is a trap?”
    “I didn’t see this one coming either,” Joshua said. “They expect me to claim that I raised her from the dead, healed her, when she’s only sleeping. Blasphemy and healing on the Sabbath.”
    “Let me raise her from the dead, then. I mean, I can do this one if she’s only sleeping.”
    “They’ll blame me for whatever you do as well. You may be their target too. The local Pharisees didn’t devise this themselves.”
    “Jakan?”
    Josh nodded. “Go get the old man, and gather as many witnesses as you can, Pharisees as well. Make a ruckus.”
    When I had about fifty people gathered in and around the house, Joshua announced, “This girl isn’t dead, she’s sleeping, you foolish old man.” Joshua shook the girl and she sat up rubbing her eyes. “Keep watch on your strong wine, old man. Rejoice that you have not lost your daughter, but grieve that you have broken the Sabbath for your ignorance.”
    Then Joshua stormed out and I followed him. When we were a ways down the street he said, “Do you think they bought it?”
    “Nope,” I said.
    “Me either,” Joshua said.

    In the morning a Roman soldier came