MESSIAH –THE FIRST

JUDGEMENTWENDY ALEC

Warboys Publishing

Messiah – The First JudgementThe Chronicles of Brothers – Book 2All rights reservedPublished by Warboys Publishing Limited (Ireland)70 Sir John Rogerson’s Quay, Dublin 2, Ireland© Wendy Alec 2007, 2008First published in hardback 2007The right of Wendy Alec to be identified as the author ofthis work has been asserted in accordance with Section77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.In this work of fiction, the characters, places and eventsare either the product of the author’s imagination or theyare used entirely fictitiously. Any resemblance to actualpersons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.No part of this publication may be reproduced ortransmitted in any form or by any means, electronic ormechanical, including photocopying, recording or anyinformation storage and retrieval system, without priorpermission in writing from the publisher.This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not,by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out orotherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consentin any form of binding or cover other than that in which it

is published without a similar condition including thiscondition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.A CIP record for this book is available from the BritishLibrary.ISBN: 978-0-9571498-1-6Cover design by Numinos Creative and studiobox.comTypeset by CRB Associates, Potterhanworth,LincolnshireChronicles of Brothers: Messiah – The First Judgementwww.chroniclesofbrothers.com

DedicationTo all the thousands and thousands of ourincredible Chronicles family, who soloved The Fall of Lucifer and have beendesperately waiting for the sequel. Aftermany long and circuitous months, thesequel Messiah – The First Judgement isfinally in your hands!Your passion and love for the story hasmeant more than you could ever imagine.These pages are dedicated to you.November 2008

‘He rescued us when we were no longerable to fight for ourselves. Chronicles is

His story.’

The CharactersThe Fallen

Lucifer – Satan, King of Perdition. Tempter;Adversary; Sovereign Ruler of the Race of Men,earth, and the nether regions.

Charsoc – Dark Apostle – Chief High Priest of theFallen. Governor of the Grand Wizards of the BlackCourt and the dreaded Warlock Kings of the West.

Marduk – Head of the Darkened Councils andLucifer’s Chief-of-Staff.

Darsoc – Princeling of legion of Grey Magi.Alastor – Grand Wizard of the Black Courts.Lord Astaroth – Michael’s ex-general – Lucifer’s

Commander-in-Chief.Moloch – Satanic prince – ‘Butcher’ of Perdition.Dagon – Commander of the Black Horde.Belzoc – Champion of Perdition and satanic regent of

the dark world of the kingdom of Persia. Ruler of

twenty-four satanic Princes of Perdition.Merodach – Satanic regent of the kingdom of

Babylonia.Gaap – King of the Western region of hell: Chief elder

of the underlords.Nisroc the Necromancer – Keeper of Death and the

Grave.Nakan – Warlock King of the Necromancers of the

East.Dracul – Ruler of Warlock Kings of the West.Araklba – Newly crowned Princeling of the Dark

Watchers.Sethunelah – Ancient leader of the Dark Grey Magi.Huldah – Dark Overlord of the Shaman Kings.Dagda – Newly crowned Ruler of the Necromancer

Kings.Faileen – Queen of the demon witches.Forneus – Marquis of hell.Balberith – Lucifer’s chief attendant.Zadkiel – Lucifer’s aide. Banished to Tartarus – Abyss.

Ramuel, Mulciber, Vidar, Belial and Ruber –Generals of the Black Horde.

Pruslas, Barbatos and Rashaverak – Lucifer’sGenerals.

Dread Councils of HellThe Dread Warlocks of Ishtar.Archangels of Ashtoroth.Thrones of Folcador.Black Magi.The Necromancer Kings.Demon Witches of Babylon.Hera and the Banshees of Valkyrie.Shaman Kings.The Wort Seers of Diabolos.

First HeavenMichael – Chief Prince of the Royal House of Yehovah

– Commander-in-Chief First Heaven’s armies –President of the warring councils.

Gabriel – Chief Prince of the Royal House of Yehovah– Lord Chief Justice of angelic Revelators.

Yehovah – Ancient of Days.Christos – Jesus.Jether – Imperial warrior and Ruler of the twenty-four

ancient monarchs of the First Heaven and HighCouncil Chief Steward of Yehovah’s sacredmysteries.

Xacheriel – Ancient of Days Curator of the sciencesand universes, one of the twenty-four ancient kingsunder Jether’s governance.

High Ruling Council ofAngelic Elders

Jether, Xacheriel.Maheel, Lamaliel.Issachar, Zebulon.Jehosaphat, Methusalah.Raphael – Lucifer’s ex-Commander-in-Chief.

Michael’s leading General.

Ephaniah – Lucifer’s ex-manservant.Uriel, Ariel

Adam – Firstborn of the Race of Men.Younglings – An ancient Angelic race with the

characteristics of eternal youth and a remarkableinquisitiveness, expressly designed as apprentices toassist the Ancient Ones in their custodianship ofYehovah’s countless new galaxies.

Obadiah, Dimnah.Tirzah, Rakkon.Otniel, Jatir.Lamech, Kalleel.

Earth: 2021Jotapa – (22), Princess of Jordan.Nick De Vere – (29), youngest brother – De Vere

dynasty – archaeologist. Dying of AIDS.Adrian De Vere – (39), middle brother – De Vere

dynasty. Ex-Prime Minister of the United Kingdom,newly appointed President of the United States of

Europe, Nobel Peace Prize nominee.Jason De Vere – (44), eldest brother – De Vere

dynasty. US media tycoon. Owns a third of theWestern world’s television and newspaper empires.

Julia St Cartier – (42), Jason De Vere’s ex-wife.Lily De Vere – (15), Julia and Jason’s daughter.

Crippled.Lilian De Vere – (76), Nick, Adrian and Jason De

Vere’s mother.Lawrence St Cartier – (82), Jesuit Priest; retired CIA;

antiquities dealer – Julia St Cartier’s uncle.

Earth: AD 28The Nazarene – Jesus.Aretas – King of Arabia/Petra.Jotapa – Princess of Arabia.Zahi – Crown Prince of Arabia.Ayeshe – Aretas’ manservant.Duza – Zahi’s bearer.

From ‘The Fall ofLucifer’

The Chronicles ofBrothers – Book 1

The tempest built with the force of acyclone, and a torrid inferno rose out ofthe blackness, illuminating the entirepanorama.

Lucifer lifted his forearm from his face,his mouth opening and closing mindlesslyin terror as an all-consuming apocalypticsheet of flame descended onto his angels,the scorching, incinerating flamesengulfing them. ‘The consuming fire!’ heshrieked.

All across the chamber, spine-chilling

screams resounded as the renegadeangelic host were consumed by theblistering fireball.

‘I’ll take Man with me! I won’t burnalone!’

His deranged screaming resoundedthrough the darkness as the searing tonguesof fire started to engulf Lucifer. He lookeddown incredulously at his hands. As hewatched they blistered. His broad,manicured nails twisted into talons andyellowed with age. The chiselledalabaster features became pockmarked.The jet-black eyebrows grew together.The beautiful aquiline nose becamemisshapen. The passionate crimson mouthgrew thin and cruel.

Frantic, Lucifer put his hands to hischeeks, feeling his mangled, misshapen

features. The magnificent thick ebonytresses fell from his scalp in smoulderingclumps. His gold and ruby ring burneddeep into his flesh.

‘Hear me, Christos!’ he screamed. ‘I,Lucifer, Light-bearer, chief prince, holyangelic regent of the Royal House ofYehovah, do now become Your swornenemy, and treachery and iniquity will Ibear unto You throughout eternity ofeternities!’

Gale-force wind blew through thechamber. The angels with Lucifer –themselves hideously transformed – clungdesperately to balustrades, marblecolumns, and overturned marble tables asthey were sucked away from the throneroom. They screamed frenziedly as thelightning raged.

Then, propelled by some unseengargantuan magnetic force, they andeverything in their wake were suckedtowards the swirling black vortex beyondthe chamber entrance.

The shadows had fallen...

Table Of Contents

From ‘The Fall of Lucifer’

Gabriel Entry

Prologue

Gabriel Entry

Chapter 1 Prince of Perdition

Chapter 2 Aretas Of Petra

Chapter 3 Brothers

Gabriel Entry

Chapter 4 The First Heaven

Chapter 5 Herod

Chapter 6 Christos

Chapter 7 The Revelation

Chapter 8 The Seventh Stone

Chapter 9 The Hordes Of Hell

Chapter 10 Alexander

Gabriel Entry

Chapter 11 Monastery of Archangels

Gabriel Entry

Chapter 12 Meggido

Chapter 13 The Gathering

Chapter 14 AD 26

Chapter 15 Betrayal – AD 27

Chapter 16 Terms of Engagement

Chapter 17 The Vale of Temptation – AD27

Gabriel Entry

2021-Petra

Chapter 18 Flight – AD 27

Chapter 19 Zahi

Chapter 20 Kerf Kenna – AD 27

Chapter 21 AD 27

Chapter 22 Gerasene

Chapter 23 Subterfuge

Chapter 24 The Veil

Chapter 25 The Hebrew

Chapter 26 Dark Choices

Chapter 27 Galilee

Chapter 28 Mandragora

Chapter 29 Lazarus

Chapter 30 Lower than the Angels

Chapter 31 Judas

Chapter 32 The Trophy

Gabriel Entry

Chapter 33 Gethsemane

Chapter 34 The Witness

Chapter 35 Antonia – AD 30

Chapter 36 The Place of the Skull

Chapter 37 Golgotha

Chapter 38 The Veil

Chapter 39 Hell’s Gates

Chapter 40 Warrior King

Gabriel Entry

Chapter 41 Jotapa

Chapter 42 The Carnelian Chalice

Chapter 43 Mourning

Chapter 44 Echoes of Eternity

Chapter 45 The First Judgement

Chapter 46 The Dread Councils of Hell

Chapter 47 The Rubied Door

Prologue1981

St Michael’s Mount,Marazion Cornwall, EnglandThe dark, imperial figure stood on ajagged outcrop beneath the toweringgranite slopes of St Michael’s Mount. Hisindigo cloak billowed in the violent galesthat blew up from the raging winter stormin the English Channel.

‘Our Father...’ Lucifer murmured, hissoft, cultured tones barely audible. A boltof lightning flashed, illuminating thesoaring pyramidal mount crowned by itsmedieval castle.

‘...Who art in heaven...’The heavens opened, and a driving,

lashing rain hammered down.Lucifer inhaled deeply, his face raised

heavenward, bathing in the torrentialdownpour, and raised his hands inexhilaration to the darkening skies. Sixmonstrous black seraph wings rose behindhim.

‘My kingdom come...,’ he cried, hissteel blue eyes blazing with fervour.

The soaking strands of his matted locksthrashed against his face, masking thescarred imperial features.

‘His will be done,’ a soft voice echoedfrom behind him.

Lucifer smiled. A slow, satisfied smile.‘Michael...,’ he murmured, his back to

his brother, ‘you are late.’

Michael stood on the far side of themount, his hand on his sword, silent.Lucifer pushed his long raven mane backfrom his face, turned, and studied hisbrother intently.

Michael wore the long white silk robesof his battalion’s ceremonial regalia. Thesapphires on his silver breastplategleamed, and his flaxen locks were tiedback in two platinum braids. Thehandsome, chiselled features were set.

Grim, pondered Lucifer. No, not grim –earnest. Earnest, noble Michael. Nothinghas changed, he reflected. He laughedsardonically.

‘You summoned me through the royalcourts. What brings you here, brother?’Michael strode to and fro impatiently.Lucifer grinned his old magnificent smile,

relishing Michael’s frustration.‘I was passing by the area,’ he said

casually. He walked towards Michael,across the crests of the raging waves, inlong, firm strides. ‘I was curious,brother.’ Lucifer drew his head close toMichael’s. ‘I would learn of the legends... of the white rock in the wood,’ hewhispered. Michael’s clear green eyeslocked on to Lucifer’s inscrutablesapphire gaze. ‘Legends of Michael theArchangel...’

Michael flinched as Lucifer’s seductivedulcet tones penetrated deep into his soul.‘The stuff of fairytales,’ Lucifer continued.

‘I traverse many lands.’ Michaelreplied.

‘Ah, but you reveal yourself to so few.’Lucifer slowly, lazily, circled him. ‘They

saw your apparition here in Cornwall, inthe year 495.’ He gestured at a lofty cragin the distance. ‘You revealed yourself toa fisherman, a lone hermit ... a monk?’Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who was he,Michael? Was he one of us?’ he hissed.‘The angelic, or one of the Race of Men?Is Yehovah compelled to pre-empt myevery move?’

‘You waste my time, Lucifer,’ Michaelsaid coldly. ‘You summoned me with theroyal seal, yet you speak of trivia.’

Lucifer observed him sceptically.‘More than trivia, I think, brother. No

matter, I will assuage my curiousityanother time.’ Lucifer raised his hand tothe skies. ‘Let us get to business, Michael– our Father’s business. And like Him, I,too, would converse of Messiah’s.’

He surveyed the craggy shores ofsouthwest Cornwall. ‘And of this fadedempire – this weakened lion ... thisEngland.’ He swung around. ‘For sheshall yet behold a king ... this year, maybenext...’

He grinned mockingly at Michael, aswhen they used to swordfight in aeonspast, in worlds long departed. ‘Perhapstonight, Michael, a messiah is born inMarazion.’

‘Speak plainly, Lucifer,’ snappedMichael, losing patience. ‘Enough of yourparables.’

‘Ah, but do I speak the truth, or merelya fabrication?’ Lucifer needled. ‘Relay toour Father that I, too, shall send amessiah.’

‘Our Father is omniscient,’ Michael

replied. ‘He knows your everyconversation. Your every thought ispreceded and beheld by Him.’

‘Ah, yes, but I stand by the legalprocess. I would have my thoughts onrecord in the royal courts in the codices ofheaven. That is why you are here – so Imeet the demands of “His” legal system.’

Michael indicated agreement. ‘It shallbe recorded as you request.’

‘My strength ebbs from me...’ Luciferscanned the heavens, strangely agitated.‘The Nazarene is near...’

An uncharacteristic dread crossed hismarred countenance. ‘You came alone?’

Michael nodded. ‘Time runs down,brother,’ he spoke softly, sorrow etchedon his noble features.

Lucifer lifted his head, his breathing

easing. ‘He offers repentance with onehand, yet, with the other, seeks mydemise.’ Lucifer’s eyes filled withloathing. ‘Our Father is malicious.’

‘As you would have it, Lucifer.’Michael looked at him, suddenly fierce.‘Your brazen iniquity affects yourjudgement.’

‘As your shameless naïvety doesyours,’ Lucifer sneered.

The two brothers glared at each other,severe, unyielding.

Finally Lucifer spoke. ‘My messiahshall rise from these isles,’ he whispered.‘A king of politics and of industry, courtedby kings and queens – a greater orator thanChurchill – rises upon these shores.’ Hestared out past the raging black waves to alone star that glimmered through the rising

mists. ‘I think I shall give him brothers,’he declared. ‘Like us, he shall have afamily.’

His mood changed abruptly. ‘They shallbe three, even as you, Gabriel and I arethree angelic brothers.’ He gave Michaela mercurial smile. ‘Three brothers of theRace of Men.’

An insane fire lit his gaze. ‘And like us’– he bowed mockingly to Michael – ‘oneshall be an insurrectionist, a renegade.’

Michael bowed his head. ‘You willlose, Lucifer,’ he murmured, ‘as you lostat Golgotha.’

‘Golgotha!’ Lucifer snarled, hiscountenance turning at once into a mask ofhatred. He turned his back on Michael,looking out to the raging winter seas. Hisvoice was hard. ‘Tell Jether when he sees

the white rider in the heavens, my messiahwill make his appearance in the Race ofMen.’

And he vanished.Michael turned as Gabriel strode out of

the hanging Cornish mists, up the rocksand towards him. Gabriel’s flaxen hairfell loose over his kingfisher bluevestments. His flawless features werefiner than Michael’s strongly defined ones... gentler. But tonight his regalcountenance was set.

‘His messiah will be born tonight inMarazion,’ Gabriel announced wearily. ‘Itis certain.’ He stood on the rocks beforeMichael, the sword of justice hanging athis side. ‘Lucifer’s fallen angelicbattalions already surround the area; ourlegions will do the same.’

Michael bowed his head. ‘He willlose,’ he said, ‘at Megiddo.’

Gabriel nodded. ‘Yes, Michael, he willlose – but at what cost to the Race ofMen?’ Together the brothers stood insilence, staring out beyond the darkswirling mists rising off the west Cornishcoast, to the blazing star that now rose inthe heavens over the small village ofMarazion.

* * *

2021Monastery of Archangels

Alexandria, EgyptTwo monks stood in the portal of StMichael the Archangel, the rotating

telescope dome on the observatory of theMonastery of Archangels. Their featureslay hidden by the grey cowled hoods oftheir Coptic monastic robes. They staredthrough the Coronado Solar Telescopedirectly into the Egyptian sun, transfixedby the unsettling apparition that hoveredabove the sweltering desert plain.

The older monk watched, mesmerized,as the spectre materialized into a sinisterwaxen form astride a magnificent whitestallion. The form held a bow.

‘The white rider of the Apocalypse...,’the younger whispered, fingering the crossat his chest. ‘The first seal is broken.’

‘The Son of Perdition comes forth torule – one from the Race of Men.’ Theolder monk looked grimly up from thetelescope into the shimmering crimson

skies of the Egyptian dawn. ‘The GreatTribulation has begun.’

That dusk is still imprinted in mymemory. The dusk when the sign ofthe White Rider of the Apocalypsehung in the Egyptian skies over thesweltering desert plains. The Son ofPerdition coming forth to rule in theRace of Men. For the breaking ofthe First Great Seal was surely toherald the beginning of thedevastations of the End of Days.

And as I stood with Jether,observing the waxen apparition, mymind raced back two thousand yearsearlier to a different dusk. And adifferent sign that had once blazedhigh in the Eastern skies. A sign

that was to terrorize the soul of mybrother Lucifer, King of theDamned. For the chilling events ofthe coming moons were about tochange eternity in the world of theRace of Men as we still knew it. Andplunge the armies of the FirstHeaven and the Fallen into acosmic battle that wouldreverberate throughout a hundredaeons.

Beyond Megiddio.Beyond the termination of the

world of the Race of Men.Culminating in one final battle.

Between my brothers.Michael and Lucifer.A thousand years in the future.At the White Gorge of Inferno, on

the eastern shores of the Lake ofFire.

But it was here, aeons before,that our tale begins...

...For it was to be a differentdusk...

Chapter One

Prince of Perdition

4 BCTwo Thousand and Seventeen

Years EarlierLucifer flung open the colossal sapphiredoors of his throne room and walked outonto the eastern portico of the BlackPalace, overhanging the very edge of thebloodstone cliffs of Perdition. He raisedhis face to the skies as the twelve magentamoons of Perdition set in the pale amberhorizon over the desolate smouldering

lava wastes of hell. The enormous flamingstar was still fixed in the night skybetween the Second Heaven and earth.

He gazed at the nova for a long time.Silent.

Miles below, in the shadowy crypts ofthe sinister Shaman-Kings, the slow,pulsating throb of hell’s sinister wardrums resounded throughout the lowerpenitentiaries of the damned.

A lingering smile spread acrossLucifer’s mangled features as he watchedthe steady grey-robed throng of ghoul-likemen and women pour through twomonstrous black iron gates that towered athousand feet above the glowing redground – the Gates of Hell.

Hundreds of jaundice-eyed, demonicgorgon seraphim nested on top of the

immense black iron gateposts of hell’sperimeter, their gigantic scaled brazenclaws slashing at the posts, and red-hotflames issuing from their nostrils and ears.The gorgon’s wings were of beaten gold,their wingspans measured a hundred feet,and across their scaled heads, inscribed inornate script, was written ‘The Souls ofthe Race of Men.’

Lucifer pulled his violet velvet capetightly around him. His gleaming ravenhair, plaited in thick braids andinterwoven with diamonds, fell over hisbroad shoulders, blowing in the scorchingtempests that blew from the stark onyxcrags of Perdition. The diamond sataniccrown of state rested on his head, and hisglistening white silk robes trimmed withwerewolf fur fell to the floor, half

concealing his jewelled sandals. Theonce-exquisite countenance had beenscarred almost beyond recognition in thetorrid inferno at his banishment from theFirst Heaven. Yet still, in the rarest ofmoments, the haunting beauty of aeons pastwas strangely evident: the wide, marbledforehead, the high imperial cheekbones,the passionate crimson mouth, theimperious sapphire eyes now shadoweddeep in thought.

He held out a sweetmeat idly to hisfavourite hellhound, the pampered five-headed Cerberus, who licked his master’shand with his coarse tongues. ThenLucifer returned to his contemplations ofthe star.

Balberith, his chief attendant, stood inthe doorway.

‘Your satanic princes are returned fromearth, Your Excellency.’ He boweddeeply.

Lucifer nodded and, tearing himselfaway from his stargazing, strode throughthe doors towards the monstrous blackonyx throne, the seat of Satan. He satdirectly beneath the black crystal vortexthat soared overhead. Araquiel, hiscourtier, held out his sceptre on a velvetbolster. He took it. Directly behind thethrone lay the Golden Gates of the BlackNecropolis which housed the great goldenArk of the Race of Men, manacled to theBlack Sepulchre with monstrous ironchains. Lucifer’s trophy.

Ahead of Lucifer towered the massiveblack iron gates of the throne room. Hisforbidding satanic guard, the Black Horde,

stood at attention – a thousand of Lucifer’sdread elite generals of his HighCommand, fallen from the First Heaven inmillenniums past with their renegade king.After their banishment, the glory of theirbravery and honour had swiftly beenreduced to a depraved and relentlesssavagery. The corridors of Perditionreverberated with dark muttered tales oftheir bloody torturing and butcheries. Theterror of the inmates of hell’spenetentiaries. Their pale straw colouredeyes stared pitilessly out from theirscarred mangled faces. Their blackbraided hair hung well below their thighs.Alongside the fallen horde, a pack ofsnarling black yellow eyed jaguars paced,chained to their depraved masters, theirpoisonous black fangs visible.

Dagon, commander of the Black Horde,stepped forward, helmet in hand, hisblack-gloved hands on his sword andbowed. ‘I announce His Majesty’s satanicchief princes, the rulers of the darkworld.’

The iron gates to his throne roomopened, and two monstrous princesentered, followed by ten regents and theirguards. The gates slammed shut, leavingthe twelve regents alone before Luciferand the Black Horde. They fell prostratebefore the gates.

‘I announce His Royal Highness, PrinceBelzoc, champion of Perdition and satanicregent of the dark world from the kingdomof Persia,’ Dagon declared.

The menacing Belzoc, satanic king ofPersia, rose from his knees to his full nine

feet, then strode across the gleaming lapis-lazuli floor towards the throne. He wasstopped twenty feet away by six of theBlack Horde, who held up theirbroadswords.

The chief magus of the DarkenedCouncil walked forward. ‘You mayaddress your emperor.’

Belzoc fell to one knee, then pushed hiscoarse mane of matted black hair awayfrom his craggy face and raised hisglinting red eyes to his emperors. ‘I returnfrom Persia, Your Majesty,’ he rasped,glutinous yellow saliva dripping from histhin pale lips. ‘My dark slaves of the Raceof Men have executed your command.Every newborn prince and royal in thekingdom of Persia is slain.’ His darkdemonic tones echoed throughout the

chamber.Lucifer stared at him, grim and silent.The chief magus spoke again: ‘I

announce His Royal Highness, PrinceMerodach, regent of the kingdom ofBabylonia.’

Merodach fell to one knee, trembling.‘Every royal house, every palace,

castle and pavilion in the kingdom ofBabylonia has been ransacked – all ofroyal lineage are slain.’

Lucifer stood, strode over to the eastside of the chamber, and flung open theheavy velvet curtains.

‘Yet still the nova burns flaming in theheavens,’ he cried.

‘He lives!’ He spun around in fury.Marduk, head of the Darkened Councils

and Lucifer’s chief of staff, entered the

gates. Marduk slunk towards the throneand bowed, then raised his hooded face toLucifer’s.

‘I bring news of the nova,’ he wheezed,his sibilant hiss echoing through the throneroom. He bowed again deeply. Only hisjaundiced, straw coloured eyes could beglimpsed under the fawn cassock hood.Lucifer waved his hand to the magi andhis regents. ‘Leave us.’

Immediately the twelve regentsscattered to the outer court. Mardukmoved closer to the throne and lifted hishood, his ravaged, sallow features nowclearly visible.

‘The star moves east, Your Majesty, tothe Mideastern regions of Planet Earth.’Lucifer stared out beyond the hunchedMarduk, past the enormous sapphire

doors, to where the star still hung, ‘Ourbattalions have scoured Persia, Greece,Babylon, sire – he is not to be found.’

Lucifer slowly turned his gaze onto atall sinister form who now stood at thegates’ entrance.

Charsoc the Dark had well earned hisname among the fallen as Lucifer’s DarkApostle. Before his fall from the FirstHeaven, he had been one of the HighCouncil of Yehovah’s eight ancient highelders, one of the great angelic monarchsof heaven, keeper of Yehovah’s sacredmysteries, second only to Jether the Just.But the treacherous Charsoc hadeffortlessly degenerated to the blackestand foulest of Necromancer Kings, nowreigning as Chief High Priest of theFallen. Governor of the Grand Wizards of

the Black Court and the dreaded WarlockKings of the West.

His iniquitous, wizened sallowcountenance was now framed by a veil ofjet black, poker-straight hair and beard.Where his eyes had been, two seared,white gaping eyeballs stared sinisterly outminus both iris and pupils. An ever-present reminder of the day and the hourthat Christos Himself had visited thepenitentiaries of the damned. Hisvoluminous harlequin sorcerer’s gownwas of the finest taffeta and tasselled, tiedin the middle with a thick vermillion satinsash. His bony, pale fingers were coveredin gold rings set with sapphires, opals,and emeralds. Charsoc vanished from thegates, then rematerialized directly beforeLucifer’s throne bowing deeply, his hair

sweeping the floor.‘Your Excellency, great Prince...’

Charsoc’s voice was both sinister andcultured in tone. ‘The nova heralds anewborn prince; this infant king to be bornof the Race of Men is one of great royallineage.’ He caressed the fire opals on histhumb ring. ‘A star of this magnitudesignifies a royal house of immensepower.’ He moved his head closer toLucifer’s. ‘One so powerful that hiskingdom could destroy our own...’ Anuncharacteristic dread fell acrossCharsoc’s face, and he lowered his tone.‘...and hasten the judgement...’

A terrible silence descended on thethrone room.

‘Where is the infant king to be born?’Lucifer’s words hung in the chamber.

He swung around to Marduk.‘What of the Black Murmurers?’

Lucifer hissed.Marduk raised his head, his voice

tremulous. ‘Sire, they have beentraversing the borders of the landdesignated Israel in the land of Men. Thelegions of your royal brothers, ChiefPrinces Michael and Gabriel, surround thearea; we cannot infiltrate.’

‘Michael!’ Lucifer snarled. ‘This infantking will be born in that parched tract ofdust. I sense it.’

He was silent a long moment, thenturned to Charsoc, his eyes narrowed.‘The Warlock Kings of the West ... theyforetell this infant has a connection withChristos?’

Charsoc stared at him, trembling.

Silent.Lucifer pointed his sceptre at Marduk.

‘You will seek it out, Marduk.’He rose, resplendent in his robes.

‘Yehovah continually vexes me throughthat spawning ground of prophets,patriachs ... and now rival kings ... Andnow I shall vex Him. Relay my royaledict.’

Lucifer raised his sceptre high. ‘Dagon– dispatch the Black Horde. Divert mybrother Michael to the West. Release thereconnaissance legion of the vultureshamans from their hell cages. To flyeast.’

Lucifer strode back through the greatjewelled doors of the eastern portico. Hecontinued his staring out at the flamingpillar of fire that blazed in the black

heavens, the nova that heralded hisadversary – the infant king.

Chapter Two

Aretas of Petra

The small party of magi journeyed onhorseback for weeks across thetreacherous, rocky terrain of the mainPersian trade routes, following theEuphrates River, led by the strangeflaming pillar of fire that hung high in theheavens. At the fringes of the Syriandesert, they met with an ancient caste ofmonks, who exchanged the magi’s horsesfor ten camels.

The aged magus Balthazar led thecaravan, his posture erect and regal,seated astride the leading camel. Behind

him rode Gaspar, the youngest magus ofthe Chaldean order, next to the older,more sedate Melchior. Balista,Balthazar’s manservant and six magi rodebehind, their camels weighed down withmassive bags of fine spices, provisions,and astronomical instruments.

Their destination, Petra.The city had housed the ancient relics

of the Hebrew king, Solomon, forgenerations; the relics to be presented tothe newborn king.

Days on end had melted into nights, andtwilights into dusks as the magi pushedthemselves to the limits of theirendurance, beaten mercilessly by thescorching desert sun as they traversed theferocious Syrian wilderness. Stopping forneither rest nor sleep, exhausted from the

gruelling heat, magnetised forward by thefuriously flaming nova, across the harshand desolate wilderness, past Damascus,until the terrain transformed into aparadise of lush green valleys andbabbling streams. Gaunt and weary,Balthazar lifted his hand.

‘Ride ahead, Balista. Let the king’sroyal guard know that we are but a day’sjourney away. The relics of Solomonawait us!’ he cried, his voice hoarse fromexhaustion, his eyes burning bright withexhilaration.

The caravan rounded the final mountainthat dawn. There she lay, nestled in theremote, all but inaccessible valley in themountains south of the Dead Sea: themysterious ancient Nabatean city of Petra.

The city was surrounded by the

towering rugged rose-coloured sandstonehills that rose from the desert plateau toprotect the noble Arabian inhabitants frominvaders. The party stared, enthralled, atthe great chasm before them.

‘The Shiq,’ murmured Melchior in awe,‘the great cleft in the earth.’

One by one, led by Balthazar, the magirode the long, narrow, winding routethrough the lofty cliffs until they rounded abend. There, towering in front of them,was an immense thirteen-storey high,ninety-foot wide columned monumentchiselled from the pale rose sandstonecliff.

‘Al Khazneh, the eighth wonder of ourworld,’ Balthazar whispered in awe.

Then his head slumped onto his chest insheer exhaustion and he collapsed

forward, losing consciousness intoblissful oblivion.

* * *Balthazar, now bathed and manicured andwith three full nights’ rest behind him,was magnificently attired in hisembroidered priestly robes. His blackskin gleamed like ebony, and his silverhair and beard glistened after beingmeticulously trimmed and anointed withperfumed oils by one of the king’spersonal stewards. Why – he hadn’t feltthis young in most of his eighty-sevenyears.

He rode on horseback across the royalpalace courtyard, keeping up with thehandsome young king who rode ahead ofhim on his fine Arabian stallion, his

crimson robes billowing, his steel-blueeyes clear and full of purpose.

Although only in his late thirties, theyoung monarch exuded a power andauthority far beyond his years, onenormally attributed to great and ancientrulers. Aretas IV, king of Petra andSouthern Arabia, was pragmatic anddecisive in temperament. His lean six-footframe was burned brown by the harshArabian sun, his sinewy hands hardenedfrom manual work. Long, dark ribbonedlocks framed his strong, dark features andquicksilver smile.

Balthazar studied him. He was differentfrom his father, Balthazar’s old andtrusted compatriot, the judicious oldNabatean king. The younger Aretas was aproud king, fiery and hot-blooded, on

occasion overly imperious and leaningtowards inflexibility. He would mature intime, as his father had before him;Balthazar was certain of it.

He followed Aretas and the royal guarddown the colonnaded street, captivated bythe beauty of the ornate royal tombs andlesser palaces. Aretas pointed proudly athis newly built amphitheatre, which couldeasily seat three thousand. They rodethrough the narrow, dusty streets boundedby the towering stone walls of Petra. Thestench of rancid goats’ milk mixed withincense and spices invaded their nostrilsas they rounded the corner to the open-airlower markets. Hundreds of Chinese,Arab, Indian, and Roman tradesmenjostled across uneven pavements, hagglingboisterously at hundreds of stalls over the

price of incense, silks, and spices.Balthazar stared in wonder at theparadisos, Petra’s magnificent ornamentalpool and gardens.

Ahead of them loomed the imposingtriple-arched Temenos gateway,decorated with sculpted busts and ornatelyengraved inscriptions.

Aretas veered right and dismountedoutside the imposing Temple of theWinged Lions. Balthazar stared up at theexquisitely carved winged lions andgriffins that decorated the limestonecapitals of the colossal temple pillars.Aretas led the way up the temple’s wide,gilded steps, striding up the nave, withBalthazar and the other magi behind him,until they reached the silver-clad pillarsof the inner sanctuary. A huge magenta

veil hung from gold rods above thedarkened stone altar. Aretas,uncharacteristically solemn, dropped toone knee. Immediately, two highpriestesses draped in gossamer whiterobes reverently opened the purple veil,then flung themselves prostrate on themarble floor, followed by the magi.

Aretas slowly rose, and the high priestdrew open the gossamer inner veil. Facingthem on the dark, damp stone altar was anornate silver casket carved with cherubimand seraphim. Aretas turned to Balthazarand nodded. Slowly he lifted the greatsilver lid to reveal a golden cup, a smallstone box and a golden rod. He stared inundisguised awe.

‘Daniel’s wonders...’ said Balthazar.‘The cup of frankincense, the alabaster

box of myrrh...’ Aretas murmured.‘And the gold rod of Aaron...’

Balthazar raised his head to Aretas, hiscountenance radiant. ‘The relics ofSolomon’s temple...’

‘It has been over half a millenniumsince the Hebrew Daniel entrusted them toour royal house for safekeeping.’ Aretashit his golden staff twice on the ground.

The stewards rose immediately.Balthazar turned to Aretas, tears

welling in his eyes, overcome withemotion. ‘The prophecies of great magusDaniel must be fulfilled. We must presentthe relics to the newborn king.’

Aretas nodded. The high priest clappedhis hands, and immediately six priestlystewards reverently placed the casket ontotheir shoulders.

Aretas walked slowly back through thetemple. He stood on the steps, staring outover the Nabatean city, deep incontemplation. ‘My father’s house lookedeagerly to this day,’ he murmured.

Balthazar nodded. ‘Your father, my oldand trusted compatriot.’

‘Revered Balthazar, you know that I donot share his religious sentiment.’ Aretasturned to Balthazar, an unusualvulnerability on his face. ‘But for myfather’s name’s sake, I would accompanyyou to Jerusalem.’

Balthazar nodded, moved by the offer.‘Who knows, old friend?’ Aretas

smiled. ‘If this babe is the future king ofthe Jews, I could make an alliance withhim and stop the eternal disputes over ourborders.’ Aretas stopped as his royal

household chariot drew up outside thetemple steps. Four royal maidservantsalighted.

A toddler struggled vigorously out ofher royal maidservant’s arms, ran over toAretas, and flung herself headlong into hisarms. ‘Papa, Papa! I go with you...’

Aretas’ countenance immediatelysoftened as he embraced the tiny girl, andthen held her at arm’s length, gentlybrushing the unruly dark locks thattumbled down her face. ‘Jotapa! At alltimes you are a princess of the royalhousehold of Aretas. You have beenplaying in the dirt again?’

Jotapa giggled. ‘Jotapa build castle ...for Papa, the king...’

Aretas threw back his head, laughingloud and long. ‘I go to visit a young king,

Jotapa, a king of the Hebrews.’Tenderly he stroked his daughter’s

pretty heart-shaped face. ‘If he is graciousand just...’ Aretas looked adoringly atJotapa. ‘...and handsome...’ He sat her onhis knee. ‘...very, very handsome, wecould arrange a marriage, an alliance ofthe houses of Arabia and Judea.’

Balthazar smiled and shook his head,gently laying his hand on the king’sshoulder. ‘My dear Aretas...’ He gazedstrangely into the distance. ‘This is noearthly king we seek...’

‘You speak as my father spoke. You areaware that I am not a religious man,Balthazar. Your deep sayings are best leftfor the evening feast, when I can digestthem with jugs of wine!’

Aretas raised Jotapa from his lap high

into the air and, amid her squeals oflaughter, remounted his stallion andplaced her in front of him, where she sangsoftly to herself. Balthazar rode at theirside through the colonnaded streets untilthey reached the gleaming marblecourtyard of the royal palace.

Gaspar and Melchior strode through thecourtyard towards them. Gaspar bowedlow. ‘The star ... the star, it moves, mylord Balthazar!’

Both Balthazar and Aretas looked up atthe heavens. Balthazar dismounted,exultant. ‘It moves towards thenorthwestern regions, Your Majesty. It isthere we will find the Messiah, ourcompatriot of whom Daniel spoke.’

Aretas dismounted and placed Jotapafirmly on the stone floor of the palace

courtyard.‘We must make haste to the councils of

Jerusalem, Melchior,’ Balthazarinstructed.

Aretas lifted his hand. ‘Myambassadors are in contact lately with himthey call Herod the Great, vassal king ofJudea.’

Melchior’s face grew somber. ‘Herodthe Edomite?’ He frowned.

Balthazar’s brows furrowed. ‘Thestories of his cruelty have circulated evento Persia, Aretas. He murders chief priestsof the Sanhedrin. Even his wife and threesons...’

Aretas paced the courtyard, handsbehind his back. ‘You have heard, I amsure, from my father, that Herod’s mother,Kufra, was a Nabatean princess ... that

Herod spent time in our midst as a boy.’Balthazar nodded. ‘This I know. I know

also that when Herod was forced to fleeJerusalem, your father repulsed hisrequest to find asylum in Petra.’

‘Yes, there has been bad blood –Cleopatra ... Syllaeus...’

‘It is precarious at best. Be assured inthis matter,’ Balthazar stated grimly.

Aretas nodded. ‘He is a cruel andruthless tyrant, of that I am aware. Not tobe trusted – but various political relationsexist between our countries, and thedisputes over our borders have intensifiedthese last months. He presses to meet withme.’

He knelt down and caressed Jotapa’schin gently. ‘Now learn a king’s wisdom,my princess. The size and dignity of our

caravan will at least bid him behospitable until he searches out our realpurpose. He will aid us in our search,with the intent of using us for his own...’

Gently he handed Jotapa to his royalsteward, amid her protestations. He kissedher lovingly on both cheeks and wavedthem away.

Aretas stood upright and looked atBalthazar soberly. ‘Rather, we will usehim for ours!’

He clapped his hands and servantspresented themselves immediately.‘Prepare the caskets of gold and spices forthe king of Judea...’

He turned to Balthazar and smiled. ‘Weshall receive a king’s welcome inJerusalem, old friend – and Herod theGreat himself shall summon us!’

* * *

2021Alexandria, Egypt

Nick De Vere pressed down on theaccelerator of the rented silver 2009 sportRange Rover. He had arrived at Cairoairport this morning from Heathrow,exhausted, to find this, the only four-wheel-drive vehicle left in the car rentalbays.

‘Not bad for an old girl,’ he murmuredas he roared up the sprawling westerndesert highway at high speed towardsAlexandria. It had been eight years sincehe last visited Alexandria, the ‘Pearl ofthe Mediterranean’. Then the road had

been desolate, traffic free and truly barrenbut now great swathes of agricultural land,horse-breeding farms and palatial estateslined the roadside. Thirty kilometresoutside Alexandria’s city limits, justbefore the Desert Roads City Gate tollstation, he made a sharp right turn, pushedthe gear into four-wheel drive, and spedacross the desert plains, leaving a hugecloud of dust behind him.

Nearly an hour later, far in the distance,the formidable fortification came intoview. The ancient granite walls of theMonastery of Archangels, carved from thehuge mountain behind the monasteryfortress that had withstood centuries ofRoman persecution against the EgyptianChristians, stood between ten and thirty-five metres tall and three metres thick.

And now this was the final resting placeof the greatest archaeological discovery ofthe twenty-first century: the secret annalsof Lucifer.

Five weeks ago, the priceless antiquityhad been moved from the high-securityarchaeological vaults of the Royal palacemuseum in Amman, Jordan, to themonastery, immediately after the tenuouscease-fire pact following the bloody PanArab-Russian – Israeli War. And here theantiquity would remain.

Nick’s jaw clenched. It had been hisdiscovery, three-and-a-half yearspreviously, from his archaeologicalexcavations at Petra. And the entire worldwas oblivious of the fact – and wouldremain so, thanks to the royal household ofJordan. And to his overriding need for the

inordinate sum stashed in a Swiss Bankaccount in his name, in exchange for hissilence. Nick sighed.

He slammed his hand on the steeringwheel in frustration. Pulling to a stopdirectly outside the towering western gate,he found it deserted. He eased his tall,lanky frame out of the Range Rover andwalked over to the gate.

Nick De Vere would be twenty-ninenext month, the youngest of three brothersbelonging to an inordinately wealthybanking dynasty, the De Vere family. Hewas handsome, almost pretty, withintelligent deep-set grey eyes above anaquiline nose and high cheekbones. Hisfine sunbleached hair, cut long, grazed hisdark grey T-shirt.

Life had recently dealt Nick De Vere

two hard blows in succession. His trustfund had been frozen by his father, JamesDe Vere, the evening before his fatal heartattack. And now Nick, too, was dying. OfAIDS. He had been on the most advancedantiretroviral therapy for four years, butnow his body was failing rapidly.

He swiped the blond fringe impatientlyout of his eyes. Peering upwards, he couldvaguely make out two Bedouin menplaying backgammon, gesticulating andtalking in rising voices, oblivious to hispresence.

Nick got back into the Range Rover,slammed the door, and leaned on the horn.Instantly the two Bedouins scrambled totheir feet and hurried to the gate, their longrobes flying behind them. There was aloud scraping and groaning of wood as a

huge lift contraption descended over theside of the monastery wall.

Nick looked in disbelief up at theswaying lift. The older Bedouin pointeddown at him.

‘You get in...’ he said giving Nick awide, toothless smile.

‘Open the gates!’ Nick demanded.‘Gates no open – you get in.’ The man

pointed to the wooden contraption, thenpointed upward to a door in the wall,thirty feet up.

Nick closed his eyes in disbelief, thenbanged on the car bonnet.

‘My car?’‘Only foot ... and helicopter,’ the

Bedouin shrugged. ‘No motor,’ he statedemphatically.

Nick slammed the car door, rolled his

eyes and walked into the wooden lift,which started to swing wildly as the twoArab men hauled it up towards the smalldoor by a system of pulleys.

* * *‘This way! This way!’

An elderly priest gestured for Nick tofollow him through the fields, ripe withvegetables, pomegranates and herbs. Theywalked past rows of date palms and olivetrees, past an olive press, then through asecond inner courtyard. Nick had thedistinct feeling he was being watched ...observed. As they continued past themonks’ refectory towards an ancientwatchtower, Nick slowed down, staringup towards the rotating Solar Telescopedome on the monastery observatory. The

priest frowned, motioning him forward.Nick obediently followed the hunched

figure through a walled garden ofsycamore trees onto a small stone path thattwisted past a vast pond filled withexquisite pink lotus blossoms that roseabove the murky waters. They stopped at arusted metal gateway, the entrance to thesprawling ancient wing of the monastery.

Nick watched intently as the priestreverently made the sign of the cross, thenswiftly entered a code in the sophisticatedsecurity system. The metal gates slowlyopened. They made their way alongnumerous winding ancient corridors,permeated with the aroma of inks andleather mingled with myrrh, then throughan enormous library occupied by hundredsof monks silently archiving data into state-

of-the-art Apple Mac computer systems.Nick ducked as they continued through alow dank tunnel. Finally they reachedwhat appeared to be a crypt door.

Two broad-shouldered soldiers holdingsubmachine guns materialized, as if fromnowhere, on either side of Nick. Theirheads were clean-shaven, and heimmediately recognized the digital patternon their uniforms, Jordan’s elite specialoperations command.

The old priest handed a documentembossed with the Royal Hashemite sealto the taller soldier. ‘He has been grantedaccess to photograph the annals.’ The oldpriest lowered his eyes to the floor,bowed, then scurried away.

Nick frowned. Suddenly he was shovedhard against the stone wall, his arms

splayed out, and rigorously searched bythe first soldier. The second grabbed hiscamera and unceremoniously dumped thecontents of Nick’s pockets and bag onto atray, which he sent through asophisticated-looking scanner.

He glared at the guard. Five secondslater, he was pushed roughly back towardsthe door. The first soldier gestured for himto remove his belongings from the tray.Seething, Nick bent down and stowedthem back in his bag. He held his cameratightly.

The taller soldier gestured to Nick tofollow him through the door. There hefound himself in an enormousantechamber, surrounded by at leasttwelve separate smaller chamberscontaining the most magnificent collection

of antiquities he had ever laid his eyes on.Egyptian, Etruscan, Persian, Assyrian, andChaldean artefacts, Arabian mosaics andfrescos, Greek and Russian icons, originalworks by Raphael, Leonardo Da Vinci,Titian, Perugino. Priceless treasures.

But ahead of him was the largestchamber. Nick stepped inside, hisattention caught by a diorite statue to hisright. He frowned. It seemed strangelyfamiliar ... Now he remembered. Itsphotograph had been circulated throughoutEurope on Interpol’s red list of lootedIraqi antiquities. Fascinated, he movednearer. Hundreds of volumes ofmanuscripts lay stacked from floor toceiling. He caught sight of a stone tabletlying inside a glass case. He stared at thetablet, enthralled at the wedge-shaped

depressions.‘The lost legacies of ancient

Mesopotamia ... the priceless collectionof cylinder seals...’ He stared at the tablet,mesmerized, feeling in his pocket for hiscamera. Slowly, carefully, he lined up thepalm-size digital camera directly with thetablet. ‘Unbelievable.’

Slim manicured fingers snatched thecamera firmly from his grasp.

‘No photographs here, Mr De Vere.You must abide by our conditions.’

Nick swung around to find himselfstaring down into a pair of flashing browneyes. He bowed his head respectfully.

‘Your Majesty...’‘We don’t suffer fools gladly, Mr De

Vere. Please make sure you respect ouragreement, or I can assure you that all

licences that we, the Jordanian people,have approved for your work shallimmediately be revoked.’

Nick studied the princess before him.She seemed young ... much younger than inany photograph he had ever seen of her –twenty-two, he guessed, definitely notmore than twenty-four. She was petite andslim, fine-boned, her high cheekbones andregal features framed by gleaming blacktresses that fell past her shoulders. Shewas understated, dressed only in a pair offaded jeans and white cotton T-shirt, theonly sign of inordinate wealth the slimdiamond Audemars Piguet watch on herleft wrist.

She watched him surveying her, and aslight smile flickered across her mouth.

‘The cuneiform tablets with the missing

parts of the epic of Gilmagesh, the earliestwritten words, a bronze relief from 4000BC – worth a hundred Mona Lisas,’ theprincess of Jordan uttered softly, as thoughreciting a sacred doxology.

‘Our government returned to the state ofIraq thousands of stolen antiquities thathad been smuggled into Jordan during thewar in the early 2000s,’ she continued.‘The sacred vase of Warka, the statue ofEntemena, the remainder we bought back,for hundreds of millions of dollars, off theblack market in Switzerland. Theyemerged everywhere: Teherani bazaars,Paris. A US Airport.’ She hesitated. ‘Wewere patient. Most of the looted treasureseventually surfaced in London.’

She looked directly into Nick’spiercing grey eyes.

‘The world’s largest centre for trade inIslamic art,’ Nick murmured. ‘UncleLawrence...’

The princess nodded.‘Lawrence St Cartier’s network of

contacts was extremely useful to the royalhouse. We now own the largest and mostimportant collection of illuminatedmanuscripts in the world, apart from theVatican’s.’

She continued walking. ‘In 180 BC, theNabateans were bequeathed thismonastery by an ancient caste of priestsconnected with the Royal Courts of Egypt.Egyptian governments throughout thecenturies have held its historical heritagein high esteem and continue to honour itspresent treaty with the HashemiteKingdom. The royal household of Jordan

has kept its priceless treasures hiddenfrom the prying eyes of the outside world,confined behind these walls, in thesecrypts. We are deeply indebted to yoursister-in-law’s uncle’ – she hesitated –‘and, of course, to you.’

Safwat, her chief of security, walkedtowards the princess. He was lean andclean cut.

‘Your Majesty,’ he spoke in a lowvoice in clipped Arabic tones. ‘Yourhelicopter arrives in fifteen minutes.’ Shenodded in acknowledgement, then turnedto Nick. ‘Follow me.’

She walked briskly back into theantechamber and turned left down anarrow, dimly lit tunnel.

‘Your English is impeccable, YourHighness,’ Nick said. ‘I read that you

were educated at Oxford.’‘Ancient history and classical

archaeology.’Nick followed closely behind, keeping

pace with her through the narrow windingcorridors. He could distinguish the faintaroma of myrrh.

‘An English education ... like yourfather...’

‘Ah,’ the princess replied, ‘but you,like us, are not British, either, Mr DeVere. Let me see...’ Her English accentcarried only the faintest Arabic inflection.‘You were born in Washington, DC, intothe De Vere dynasty. Your father wasnamed American ambassador to theUnited Kingdom five years after you wereborn. You grew up in Great Britain –Regent’s Park, to be precise. Educated at

Gordonstoun, studied serious archaeologyat Cambridge, Mensa IQ, gifted, yourAchilles’ heel drugs and a playboylifestyle. Black sheep of the family, trustfund frozen. Your eldest brother, Jason DeVere, US media tycoon extraordinaire,owns a third of the Western world’stelevision and newspaper empires.

‘Middle brother, Adrian De Vere,youngest prime minister of the UnitedKingdom and newly appointed presidentof the United States of Europe; NobelPeace Prize nominee.

‘In 2014 you were involved in anaccident in which your eldest brother’sdaughter was permanently crippled. Youwere the driver; you were inebriated atthe time. Jason De Vere has not talked toyou from that day on.’

Nick glared in the direction of theprincess’s fast disappearing back.

‘You contracted AIDS four years ago.Adrian De Vere paid for the besttreatments in Switzerland, London and theMayo Clinic, but alas, in the past fivemonths, your body has not respondedfavourably to any of the treatments.’

Nick fought to control the rage buildinginside him at this prying teenage royal.‘My private life is no concern of...’

‘You are a fool, Nicholas De Vere,’ sheinterrupted sharply. ‘Since your brother’sstellar political ascent, your entire familyhas been under every government’s closesurveillance: Interpol, Europol, the CIA,M16, Mossad, SAVAMA, the FSB, andthe Jordanian secret service – all arewatching you.’

She turned abruptly sharp right downinto a small dank stairway. Nickfollowed.

‘My brother, the crown prince, and Imeet with your brother and the UnitedArab Nations next month in Damascus forthe signing of the greatest peace accord inthe twenty-first century. For the first time,we are all at the same table: China, NorthKorea, Europe, the Pan-Arab Union, theUnited States, Russia, and Israel. Theremay finally be peace in our time.’

She turned towards him in the stairwell.‘We have granted your access to continueyour study of the annals. However,Lawrence St Cartier asked me to return afavour – strictly business. You wished tosee the cross that is spoken of in theannals?’

Nick drew a deep breath; all his angerinstantaneously evaporated.

‘The cross exists, then?’Nick stepped towards the princess, a

strange glitter in his eyes. ‘Oh, yes,Nicholas De Vere, it exists...’

The princess walked briskly down thedamp stone stairs.

‘Legend has it that it possesses strangehealing powers.’ Nick’s voice echoedafter the disappearing princess. Heclambered down the stairwell after her.

‘Legends are very powerful in theminds of those who believe,’ the princesscountered.

‘Legend has it that Aretas the Fourthprotected the Christ child in His flightfrom Egypt...,’ Nick’s eyes shone withexhilaration, ‘that he brought Him here to

this monastery, to an ancient caste ofmagi...’ Nick stopped, sweat suddenlypouring down his brow. He grasped thestair rail to steady himself.

The princess turned back towards himfrom the lower stairs. She held his gaze.

He continued, ‘...that the boy ChristHimself carved a cross when He was buta child and gave it as a gift to Aretasbefore returning from this monastery toNazareth.’

‘Cartier has briefed you well. It seemsyou know all our legends.’

They continued descending until theyreached the lower crypts, then stoppedoutside a solid steel door, barely four feethigh. Two thickset monks, standing hiddenin the shadowed corner, moved towardsNick. A third older monk raised his hand.

They instantly returned to the shadows.‘Thank you, Father Benedict. He is our

guest.’The monk bowed before the princess,

entered a security code in the wall, thenstepped back as the one-foot thick steeldoor slid away, revealing an ancientwooden crypt door.

Nick ran his hand over the doorway inwonder. ‘Cedar of Lebanon,’ hemurmured.

Father Benedict nodded. ‘The ancientFathers of the monastery imported it forthe original monastery,’ he said.

Nick eased his lanky six-foot framethrough the doorway into the tinymausoleum. There in the centre of thechamber, under thick protective glass, layhis discovery – the Secret Angelic Annals.

He gazed at the strange blue light that stillflickered faintly from its pages,mesmerized. Then with great effortdragged his gaze away from the annals.

In the far left-hand corner of thechamber, resting against deep-blue velvetunder a glass dome, lay a small cross nolarger than a DVD, perfectly carved fromacacia wood.

Nick moved nearer, then frowned. ‘It’sbeen mended...’ He examined it throughthe dome. ‘Crudely mended.’

The princess sighed. ‘Two thousandyears ago, King Aretas had consideredthat the Christ child would grow up awarrior, a colossus, and overturn Rome.But Aretas’ warrior was not to be. Afterthe Hebrew was crucified, it is said that ina moment of bitter passion and

disillusionment, Aretas smashed the crossin a fit of rage.’

‘There were wild, unsubstantiated talesthat as Aretas lay dying, Christ appearedto him,’ Nick said, staring at hercuriously.

‘We are a wonderfully dramatic nation,Mr De Vere.’ The princess lowered hereyes. ‘The recounters of Scheherazade’sThousand Nights and a Night. Our richculture of poetry and prose has made ourpeople the storytellers that we have beenthrough the centuries.’ She shrugged. ‘Thatis why we have so many legends.’

The princess’s voice broke off as herPrada sunglasses slipped from her graspand fell to the stone floor. She knelt topick them up just as Nick did the same. Hegrasped them in his palm and held them

out to her, then stared, fascinated, at thesmall, plain silver cross that slipped outfrom beneath her T-shirt.

‘Nonetheless, Princess, you believe,’he whispered.

She stared at him, silent, frozen in herkneeling position.

‘My people respect and revere Christas a teacher and a prophet, Mr De Vere. Itis common knowledge, even amongagnostics such as yourself,’ she snapped.The princess quickly regained hercomposure, snatched the sunglasses, andstood.

Nick continued relentlessly. ‘Yet yourcritics claim you choose to go a stepfurther ... even as Aretas the Fourth’sdaughter Jotapa.’

Safwat appeared out of the shadows in

the doorway with Father Benedict.‘Your helicopter is here, Your

Majesty.’ Safwat’s voice was soft butinsistent. ‘The Gulfstream refuels inAlexandria. We must leave for the palacein Aqaba before it is dusk, Princess.’

The princess nodded. ‘You are in goodhands, Nick De Vere.’ She gestured toFather Benedict. ‘But I must remind you:all digital film is to be delivered to FatherBenedict before your departure – noimages leave these grounds, or I shallrevoke your licence. Even a De Verebrother has to bow to the rules of theHashemite Kingdom.’

She turned, but he heard her soft voicefrom the shadows. ‘She was my namesake– Jotapa.’ And then she was gone.

* * *

LaterIt was nearing dusk when Nick opened thedoor of the Range Rover. His face wasflushed with exhilaration.

The hooded monks watched him fromthe Observatory of the Monastery ofArchangels.

‘He is very sick.’‘He is dying,’ the elder monk

whispered, ‘and yet his greatest sicknessis of his soul.’

‘The identity of the Son of Perditionwill be revealed to him?’ the youngerquestioned.

‘In not so many moons he will return.The revelations concerning his brotherwill begin.’ The old monk turned from theobservatory window. ‘Then he will enter

the dark night of his soul.’The setting sun illuminated Jether’s

ancient noble features as he drew his hoodback from his face. Weary.

‘He has been chosen. May Yehovahgrant him mercy.’

The younger monk watched as theRange Rover roared back across thedesert plains. ‘He has no faith.’

‘And yet still he seeks for truth.’Jether’s tone was gentle, filled with

wonder. ‘Such is the marvel of the Raceof Men, Gabriel.’ He turned back to starethrough the telescope at the whiteapparition in the Egyptian skies.‘Lucifer’s messiah is here.’

* * *

4 BCLucifer stood in the fading light of thetwelve magenta moons of Perdition,playing his viol, his eyes closed inecstasy.

The tall casement doors of hisbedchamber were flung wide open and theexquisite melody echoed across the murkylava wastelands to the vaults of hell.

Lucifer’s face was raised to theheavens. His raven hair, loosed from itsdiamond braids, fell gleaming over hisbare shoulders, and a rare serenity restedon his countenance.

He swept the carved horn bow withlong, passionate strokes over the strings ofhis viol, his mouth moving softly to theexquisite refrain, his long, slim fingers

moving dexterously across thefingerboard.

A soft knock echoed through hisbedchamber, and Balberith, his attendant,entered.

Lucifer opened his eyes, sensing thepresence. ‘I ordered that there be nodisturbances,’ he glared at Balberith, thenlowered the viol from his chin.

Balberith bowed, holding out a missiveembossed with the Necromancers’ seal ofthe Warlock Kings of the West.

Lucifer tore it open with his free handand scanned the letter, then carefullyfolded it closed, then nodded. Balberithwalked back through the doors. Luciferpaced the room restlessly, viol still inhand.

A second courtier appeared, and

unlocked the doors of the ornately carvedmusic chamber housing Lucifer’s vastcollection of lyres, psalteries, dulcimers,fifes, flageolets, pan pipes, lutes, serpents,cornets, and gleaming golden shofars.Lucifer handed him the viol.

Balberith re-entered followed byCharsoc, dressed in his flowingvermillion night-robes and with a canaryyellow tasselled nightcap on his head. Hisblack shaman vulture chick rested on hisarm.

‘Your Majesty...’ He bowed deeply, asinister smile on his blind face.

‘You may speak,’ Lucifer said, turninghis back to Charsoc. Balberith lacedLucifer’s satin night-robes.

‘Your Majesty, I have received wordfrom the caste of Black Murmurers who

traverse the Arabian kingdom of Petra.They report a caravan of magi arrived lastdusk. The magi seek the newborn king.’

Lucifer looked over his shoulder atCharsoc, as Balberith pulled a heavywhite fur gown over his shoulders, hisexpression inscrutable. ‘Magi...? What dothey want with this king?’

‘They are of the upper house of theMegistanes, Your Majesty – of an ancientpriesthood. Their duties encompass theanointing of kings. They follow the star.’

‘Kingmakers!’‘Your Majesty, there is one, a devout

servant of ours, a king of earth – whosesorcerers consult with the Warlock Kingsof the West. The magi would journey tohim. They seek him out.’

‘And this king who seeks our cause?’ A

faint smile glimmered on Lucifer’s lips.He stopped under the hundred blazingperfumed frankincense tapers, inhalingdeeply. ‘His name is Herod.’ Charsocreplied. ‘He is greatly disturbed, YourMajesty. This new king threatens hispower.’

Lucifer moved over to the enormousrubied windows. The nova had drawnmuch nearer to Earth. Lucifer watched itsintensely burning light.

‘Dispatch Darsoc, my sinisterprinceling – and my Grey Magi, to followthe magi. Instruct your Black Court GrandWizards to accompany him. Charge theWarlock Kings to instruct Herod that, onarrival, these magi must make carefulsearch for the child, and when they findhim, they must bring him word. His excuse

shall be that he might worship the child.’Lucifer turned from the windows.

‘Then bring me word...’ A slow, evilsmile spread across his features. ‘...that Imight worship the child also...’

Chapter Three

Brothers

Gabriel walked barefoot in silence, hisfeet sinking into the soft, glistening pearlsands on the celestial white beaches of theFirst Heaven that stretched for thousandsof leagues in front of the splendid Palaceof Archangels. His pale gold tresses wereplaited with platinum and hung loosedown his back over his shot silk oyster-coloured frock coat. His ethereal featureswere flawless: the perfectly carvedcheekbones; the regal countenance. Hisclear grey eyes were gentle yet piercing.

Gabriel gazed at the reflection of the

twelve palest-blue moons that glistened onthe First Heaven’s horizon, watching thelilac hues shift to a deep majestic indigo.Towards the eastern horizon lay Eden, itsmagnificent, lush hanging gardens andamethyst waterfalls barely visible fromthe sea’s edge. Shooting stars andlightnings arced over the foaming silverwaves of the Crystal Sea as clusters ofluminescent diamonds the size ofpomegranates washed up onto the whitesands, emitting a soft luminous light.

He stared up at the soaring gold-columned palace that towered high abovethe western wall. This was where he andhis two elder brothers had dwelt inharmony and kinship before the darkeningshadows of insurrection had fallen overthe realm of the First Heaven – before

Lucifer, seraph, great archangel, lightbearer, was banished.

Now only Michael’s and Gabriel’sgrand wings of chambers were occupied.The majestic west wing of the son of themorning lay desolate, Lucifer’smagnificent mother-of-pearl chambersdeserted, their towering golden doorsengraved with the emblem of the RoyalHouse barred since the dusk of hisbanishment, in worlds long sincedeparted.

Michael strode towards him down thegilded steps, his emerald cloak flyingbehind him.

‘I am returned from earth,’ heannounced, marching through rows ofgrand white columns, past the vast crystalorangeries of the eastern wing of the

palace towards Gabriel across the pearlsands.

‘It is good to see you, esteemedGabriel.’ Michael kissed him warmly onboth cheeks, then removed his golden wargauntlets.

‘As it is you, beloved brother.’ Gabrielsurveyed the tall, noble warrior.Michael’s gleaming, flaxen hair was tiedback with emeralds and gold in two thickbraids that framed the noble features, hisintelligent green eyes lost in thought.

He has grown much in wisdom of late,Gabriel reflected. Since Lucifer’sbanishment. Gone was any residue of thehot-headedness and intractability of hisformer years, and in its wake had grown anobility and a graciousness that wereunmistakable. This was his elder brother,

Michael, his spirit clothed with honour,nobility, and valour, commander-in-chiefof the First Heaven’s armies – Yehovah’swarrior.

Michael raised his head to the horizonsand closed his eyes, a deep peacetransforming his features. He breathed inthe heady fragrance of myrrh that waftedacross the shimmering beaches from thevast lush plains of great white poplars farbeyond the eastern plains of Eden. He wassilent a long moment, then followedGabriel’s gaze up towards Lucifer’schambers.

‘Lucifer’s magi have alerted him.’ Hisvoice was soft. ‘It was just a matter oftime.’

Gabriel nodded.‘We knew it would be so.’ Gabriel

walked to the very edge of the Crystal sea,staring out at the indigo shooting stars thatblazed overhead on the horizon.

‘I can still see his raven hair blowing inthe eastern breeze,’ he murmured. ‘It isstrange – I remember Lucifer’s everyword as though they were ingrained in mysoul.’ He turned his face to Michael’s.‘“Each and every dawn,”’ Gabrielwhispered, ‘“we are tested as to whetherwe would serve our own will, our owndesires, or would we serve Yehovah.”That is what he told me at this exact spot.“Choose wisely each day, Gabriel,” hetold me...’ Gabriel lowered his clear greyeyes. ‘“...and you can never fail Him. Thegreatest gift you can grant Him is your freechoice to serve Him in obedience, which,in turn, is your true love.”’

‘Yehovah, by His choice, endowed theangelic race with free will,’ said Michael.‘Lucifer chose his path, as we havechosen ours.’

‘And as the Race of Men choosetheirs,’ Gabriel said thoughtfully. Hecontinued his pacing along the luminoussands. A long silence fell. Finally Gabrielspoke again.

‘Michael...’ He raised his face up to theabandoned west wing, his eyes filled withintense sorrow. ‘Do you think Lucifer hasregret?’

‘No,’ a soft voice echoed.Gabriel turned. Jether the Just, imperial

angelic monarch and ruler of the twenty-four ancient kings of Yehovah, stood onthe gilded steps above them, his silveredhair and beard blowing in the soft zephyrs

off the sea. His wizened features weregentle, but underneath his bushy whiteeyebrows his pale watery grey blue eyesglittered like an eagle’s – intense, alert.Nothing escaped Jether’s vigilant gaze. Hewell knew that the tender Gabriel hadsuffered much of late. The dreamings thatnight after night haunted Gabriel were thecost of the gift he bore as Yehovah’s seer,the angelic revelator. He smiledcompassionately at Gabriel.

‘If he has regret, Gabriel...’ Jetherwalked towards them across the sands, thepearls covering his lime green jewelledslippers as he walked. ‘...it is regret forhimself, as he realizes the direconsequence of his choice ... of his fall.But true regret...’ Jether stared upwardsnorth of the two trees of Eden, to the

colossal golden ruby-encrusted door,ablaze with light that was embedded intothe jacinth walls of the tower – theentrance to the throne room.

‘True regret is based on repentance –grieving for the sin, not the consequenceof sin. The two are quite contradictory.Completely opposed.’ Jether’s pale blueeyes blazed with an uncharacteristicfervour. ‘And they must never beconfused.’

He gazed up towards the towering westwing, with its grand pearl balconies thatnow lay abandoned. Derelict.

‘Perfect in beauty,’ he whispered.‘Filled with wisdom – oh, how thou hastfallen, son of the morning.’

‘What is this Race of Men to Him thatHe is mindful of them?’ Gabriel

murmured. Jether placed his hand gentlyon Gabriel’s shoulder.

‘The High Council assembles. Thepresence of Yehovah’s Chief Princes isrequested.’

Michael bowed to Jether, ‘It shall beso, revered Jether.’ Jether smoothed hisembroidered pale green satin robes. ‘Wegather on the Eastern sands under theGreat Willows. At dusk.’

Jether studied the brothers intently.‘The old world has gone,’ he said

softly. ‘It can never be revisited. This is aday of farewells.’ And then he vanished,transported to the Tower of Winds.

Through all the aeons that hadelapsed since Lucifer’s banishmentand our return from Perdition, therehad never been a time that Michaeland I had looked back to ourprevious world.

But somehow we both knew thatthis was to be a different day.

We stood – alone on theshimmering sands. In silence. Twobrothers. Not Chief Princes. NotWarrior or Revelator. Just youngerbrothers. Remembering. All that hadbeen. All that had transpired.Grieving.

For all that we sensed was yet to

come, the memories of our triunebrotherhood coursing uninvitedthrough our souls like all-consuming, blistering waves. And Iknew, that it was in that verymoment, that we each said our finalgoodbyes.

For Jether was right. Ourprevious world could never berevisited.

The old world was gone.Michael and I would never again

look back......For a new world lay before us.A world whose fate now hung by a

thread.A world with whose destiny the

First Heaven was to be irreversiblyentwined.

...The world of the Race of Men.

Chapter Four

The First Heaven

Jether paced with even strides through thewinding corridors of the Tower of Windsin the First Heaven, his silken white hairand beard sweeping the sapphire floors ashe walked. On his head rested a jacinthcrown.

Obadiah, a youngling of an ancientangelic race that possessed thecharacteristics of eternal youth and aremarkable inquisitiveness, was Jether’sattendant. The youngling scurried behind,panting, hardly reaching up to Jether’swaist. His stocky little legs, almost in a

trot to keep up, his tight orange curlsflying, vainly attempted to hold Jether’svoluminous willow-green satin cloak offthe polished sapphire floors. As theyrounded a corner, Obadiah distractedlycaught sight of Tirzah, another youngling,at target practice with what looked like anenormous iron cannonball.

The languishing Obadiah lost hold ofthe cloak just as Tirzah launched the ironball, which arced high above their heads,plummeting down at high speed to landdirectly in the centre of Jether’s train.Jether stopped precisely as the offendingspheroid landed.

He sighed deeply and turned to glare atTirzah.

‘Now will you believe me that I haveeyes in the back of my head, Obadiah?’

He glowered darkly at the youngling, hiswhite eyebrows knitting together. ‘Takeyour tiffin!’

Obadiah scuttled away, Tirzah in tow.Jether chuckled softly to himself, thencaught six tittering younglings hidden inthe corridor, devouring their morning teabreak of curds and junket. Catching sightof him, they dropped their tiffin, staring athim in awe. He scowled purposefully intheir direction. They turned a furiousbeetroot red and scattered in four differentdirections. Jether hid a smile, thengrasped his cloak with both hands andcontinued his striding. Grave.

Xacheriel, one of the First Heaven’seight high elders and Jether’s closecompatriot, appeared from a small door inthe wall. Xacheriel was the Ancient of

Days’ curator of the sciences anduniverses, one of the twenty-four ancientkings under Jether’s governance. He andhis wise ones were the devoted executorsof Yehovah’s unutterable marvels,governors of the three great portals, andcustodians of the sacred vaults of theflaming cherubim and seraphim, whichhoused the countless billions of DNAblueprints, genome codes, and theboundary lines of Yehovah’s innumerablegalaxies, seas, and universes.

He fell in step with Jether, his greatwhite eyebrows knitted together, stridingthe corridors in his violet experimentationgaloshes. Carrying Xacheriel’s train wasDimnah, a short, dumpy, freckledyoungling, shuddering violently from theblue arced electrical currents that were

shocking him from Xacheriel’s person.Jether stopped, tapping Xacheriel on

the shoulder. ‘Humph,’ he coughedsurreptitiously into his handkerchief.

Xacheriel frowned impatiently.Jether pointed to the now convulsing

Dimnah, blue electric arcs swirling in andout from his tight ginger curls down to hisstriped stockinged knees. Xacheriellooked down at his indigo rubber glovesand scowled.

‘Rakkon! Jatir!’ he bellowed.A group of younglings all attired in

rainbow-coloured galoshes and rubbergloves instantly appeared as if from avapour.

‘Disconnect the dullard Dimnah!’With immense difficulty, the younglings

managed to pry Dimnah free from

Xacheriel’s train.‘No galoshes!’ muttered Xacheriel. He

waved his hand towards the languishingDimnah, now fallen to the floor in a deadswoon. ‘A high-voltage experiment, andthe dunderhead wears no galoshes!’Xacheriel sighed in exasperation,scrabbling beneath his oilskin in thevoluminous pockets of his orange robes,and bringing out a small, sticky half-eatencake with the consistency of an Englishdoughnut with an indigo curd centre,which he thrust between the long-sufferingDimnah’s lips.

‘Brain food!’ he declared, rubbing hislarge hands together, and continued hisgreat tramping along the corridor.

Jether shook his head, his eyestwinkling with amusement, and followed.

‘Lucifer and his cohorts aredangerously close to the truth, Jether,’Xacheriel declared darkly.

Jether looked up at him from under hiseyebrows, without breaking stride.‘Lucifer’s revelation of Yehovah’s wayshas waned these past aeons,’ he replied.‘He and his evil magi seek after one bornof a royal house of Earth – one of powerand nobility.’

They walked out of the sapphirecorridors across the lush lawns of thelower gardens of the Tower of Winds,through the lower chambers of the sixthspire, where they were met by two moreyounglings, holding the reins of twowhite-winged chargers.

Jether raised his eyebrows to Xacherielas he placed his foot in the stirrup.

‘We have a little time yet,’ he saidgrimly.

Jether and Xacheriel mountedeffortlessly and flew above the glisteningdiamonds paving the vast winding roadthrough the massive pearl gates, twohundred feet high, across the crystalbridge, finally landing on the vast easternpearl sands on the very edge of the Sea ofZamar.

Seated on jacinth thrones, under theopen heavens on the eastern sands, werethe high council of the eight ancient kings,Yehovah’s high elders. Six ancientmonarchs were already seated around agolden circular table, their heads bowed,each dressed in vibrantly coloured robes.Their lips moved silently in supplicationto the Ancient of Days. Michael sat on a

carved silver throne.Jether dismounted, and the six ancient

monarchs and Michael rose as one andbowed reverently to his person. Jethernodded and took his seat at the throne atthe head of the table, Xacheriel at his left.Jether bowed his head, his lips moving insupplication. He nodded to Michael.

‘Lucifer is suspicious of these magi,’Michael said. ‘My reconnaissance informsme that the sorcerers of the royal court ofHerod of Judea consult with the WarlockKings of the West.’

Zebulon, an elder with a long whitebeard and a gentle demeanour, raised hishead from his supplications. ‘Yes, this istrue, Michael, but Dracul and his WarlockKings also consult continually withMelsoc of Persia and Babylon and with

Babiel of the Medes.’Methuselah raised his white-crowned

head. ‘Dracul keeps his options open. Hespeculates.’ His words were calm andmeasured. ‘All they are certain of is thatthe prince shall be born of the Race ofMen, in the East.’

Maheel, a third ancient elder, raised hisbowed head; his watery blue eyes weredistant.

‘You may speak, Maheel,’ Jether saidquietly.

‘Our greatest danger comes when thestar stands still again, this time over itsresting place, Bethlehem.’

There came a thundering as Gabrielgalloped across the sands on his whitesteed, escorted by ten Revelators. Hedrew to a halt under the great willows.

Gabriel dismounted and strode towardsthem, speaking as he walked. ‘Forgive mytardiness, my honoured elders, my reveredbrother Michael. I received urgent wordfrom my Revelator scouts. Our greatestdanger, I regret, is almost upon us. Luciferdispatched Darsoc and the Grey Magi thisvery dawn to follow the magi. It will beonly a matter of time before Luciferrealizes that the newborn prince of theEast, and Christos, are one and the same.’

All around the table lifted their heads;Michael and Gabriel exchanged a gravelook. Lamaliel shook his head. ‘His wrathwill be unbridled.’

Issachar stroked his beard. ‘His firstaction will be to investigate theconstituents of Christos’ blood.’

‘We are well aware,’ said Xacheriel,

drumming his large fingers, rather tooloudly, on the table next to Jether.

‘Lucifer’s evil genius is no match forthe unfathomable wisdom of Yehovah,’said Jether, closing the book of EternalLaw. He placed his wizened hand softlyon top of Xacheriel’s to restrain hispounding.

‘He becomes blinded by his ownpreconceptions,’ stated Issachar.

‘His choice to consistently despiseYehovah’s treaties struck with the Race ofMen in aeons past could ultimately lead tohis demise,’ Gabriel said.

Jether nodded.‘His pride renders him more careless.

He is contemptuous of the accords whichwill be to our advantage.’

Xacheriel stroked his bushy eyebrows.

‘He will be more easily persuaded withhis misgivings satisfied.’

Jether nodded. ‘We must have faith.’‘Lucifer is become drawn to the Eastern

regions,’ Michael rose. ‘He dispatchedDagon and his Black Horde deliberatelyto divert me to the West. I sent fortylegions after Dagon to dispel my brother’sunease – eighty of my legions remain hungwell back in the First Heaven. They awaitmy return to the East.’

‘My Revelator legions are mobilised,’Gabriel added. ‘The Proclaimers andscouts left for the Eastern horizons atdawn. They await your command,brother.’

Jether stood up slowly from the table,as did the seven elders. Jether claspedMichael’s arm, and they followed Gabriel

across the pearl sands to the marble-columned pergola, up the gilded steps tothe lush tropical gardens where thearchangel brothers’ thrones stood besidethe waterfalls of nectar. The blue galesblew violently. Jether stared out past theSea of Zamar at the winged stallionsgalloping across the pearl beaches. Farabove the stallions an enormous whiteeagle with golden talons soared towardsthem.

The eagle landed gracefully on thesands next to Jether, who unclasped amissive with the seal of Yehovah from itsdiamond collar. He read silently.

‘Yehovah summons me,’ he murmured,then turned to gaze up at the shimmeringindigos and lilacs of the rainbowoverarching the Crystal Palace. To the

north of the two massive trees in thehanging gardens, above the labyrinths, acolossal ruby-encrusted door, ablaze withlight, was embedded in the tower’s jacinthwalls – the entrance to Yehovah’s throneroom. There were few, so few, who hadever gazed upon the beauty of Yehovah’scountenance. Jether, faithful steward ofYehovah’s mysteries, was one.

Jether closed his eyes. ‘The codices ofthe White Judgement,’ he whispered.‘They are to be opened.’

Michael stepped back, stunned.‘The codices of fire,’ Gabriel echoed.Jether nodded. ‘The Day of the Seventh

Stone approaches.’He mounted the great eagle, sitting

astride the golden saddle and stroking itssoft white neck feathers. The eagle looked

up at Jether, its piercing brown eyesgentle, awaiting his command.

‘Faithful Vespar, I would journey to thelabyrinths of the seventh spire,’ he said,his eyes strangely misted.

‘Michael – make haste to the easternheavens. Gabriel – meet me in the seventhspire of the labyrinths. Let us never forget,my angelic princes, that we fight on behalfof Yehovah for the greatest prize in theuniverse.’

His voice shook with passion as Vesparascended into the skies. ‘For theredemption of the Race of Men from theirtyrant king, Lucifer!’

Chapter Five

Herod

Ahuge group of the councils of Jerusalem,including the seventy-one members of theJewish supreme council, the Sanhedrin,and all Herod’s scribes and his own magi,were gathered in the palace’s inner court.Herod sat on his elaborate golden thronein the inner court of his palace. He wasdressed in the most ostentatious purplefinery, his crown awry on top of his thick,ill-fitting ginger wig. He limped heavilyover to the nearest window to starebalefully at the pillar of fire that blazed inthe night sky.

‘The star burns brighter with everyhour!’ His face was florid with rage. ‘Youknew I had a rival, yet you did not warnme?’ He slammed his sceptre down on anornate vase, smashing it to the floor.‘There is a king of the Jews; your Hebrewwritings are clear on it.’

He rose from the throne and swungaround to the chief priest, who wasshivering with terror. ‘They are clear,aren’t they?’

‘The writings are clear, sire,’ the chiefpriest stammered.

Herod flung open the Torah scrolls.‘Bring him nearer, that he might know hissubject more intimately.’

Herod’s guards grabbed the chief priestby the arms and thrust him in front ofHerod. Herod pushed the Torah in front of

the chief priest’s face.‘Where is this king of the Jews to be

born?’Petrified, the priest fumbled through the

scrolls until he found the book of Micah.Trembling, he stopped. Herod snatchedthe scroll away from him and scanned itavidly, his fleshy jowls shaking as heread.

‘Where, where does it say “king of theJews”?’ He pushed his face right up to thehigh priest. ‘Show me.’

‘In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it iswritten by the prophet Micah: “But you,Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are notthe least among the rulers of Judah; for outof you will come a ruler who willshepherd my people, Israel.”’

‘Is this ME?’ Herod screamed, red in

the face. ‘Is it Herod the Great theyprophesy? Is it Herod? Or is there...’ Hespun around. ‘...ANOTHER?’ he hissed,his two chins shaking.

The chief priest gulped. Suddenlyfinding courage, in a holy fervour heblurted, ‘There is another.’ His wordswere soft but unmistakable. ‘The Messiah,the ruler of Israel – His kingdom shall seeno end.’

Herod rose, apoplectic, from the throneand smashed the sceptre against the chiefpriest’s chest. The priest rolled down themarble stairs, blood flowing from hishead onto the marble floor. The councilstood terrorized, silent.

Herod lifted up his voluminous robes.‘GET OUT OF HERE! Get out!’ screamedHerod. ‘OUT!’

The council scattered like geese, out ofthe throne room, two of them dragging thesemi-conscious priest behind them.Herod’s advisers clustered around histhrone, trembling and whisperingfeverishly.

‘Stop your infernal mumbling,’ Herodsnarled. ‘What is it that you whisper ofnow?’

His chief adviser stepped forward. ‘Wespeak of the caravan, Your Majesty, thatdraws nigh to Jerusalem from the East.’

A second counsellor bowed. ‘Thecaravan is of exceeding wealth and pomp,Your Majesty. It is the talk of allJerusalem.’

Herod sat back heavily on his throne.‘Yes, yes, my magi informed me. They areParthians – interferers ... kingmakers!

They fell kings from thrones at theirwhim!’

He bit his fist, his eyes gleaming withinsanity. Sweat poured from his furrowedbrow below his crown. ‘It is a plot. TheParthians take me for a usurper – theywould murder me ... dethrone me. And putthis ... this infantile king of the Jews...’

‘Nay, Your Majesty. This caravanbelongs to a king, Aretas, sovereign rulerof Arabia.’

‘Aretas! The king of Petra – why, he isno philosopher, no magus’s accomplice.’Herod relaxed visibly. He exhaled deeplyand readjusted his wig.

‘He is a pragmatic man, one who hasseen bloodshed.’ Herod’s eyes glittered.‘Does he come in peace or war?’ Hebunched his robe in his fist, trembling.

‘War!’ he whimpered. ‘He seeks revenge.He comes to murder me and annexe Judeato the Nabateans!’ A thread of spittle hungsuspended from his chin. He was seizedby paroxysm, coughing up blood into hishandkerchief.

His chief attendant held out a sealedmissive. Herod snatched it and tore itopen, eyes wild, scanning the contents.

‘He would honour me and solve ourborder disputes.’ He wiped his brow witha silk handkerchief. ‘He seeks peace.’ Heexhaled heavily in relief and held out histrembling hand to his cupbearer, whoimmediately placed an ornate goblet ofwine in it.

‘This upstart king could well threatenAretas, also.’ He sipped from his cupdelicately. ‘Get word to his ambassadors

that my palace awaits him. He shallindeed be my welcome guest.’

Herod caressed the goblet thoughtfully.‘The royal houses of Petra and Judeawould do well to make alliance. Togetherwe shall destroy this upstart king!’

* * *Herod turned to a tall, sinister figure to theright of his throne. ‘Mephisto, relay to methe Necromancer’s counsel.’

Mephisto chanted, and slowly thethirteen Warlock Kings of the Westmaterialized next to him, unseen by Herod.Dracul, their ruler, spoke, echoed byMephisto, almost as an alter ego, speakingwith him in a strange, unearthly unison.‘Let them make careful search for thechild and report back, that you may find

him and destroy the newborn king.’* * *

Gabriel thundered bareback on hisstallion, through the lush rain forests,across the vast bulrush meadows of theEastern plains of Eden in the FirstHeaven, his flaxen hair flying. He came toa halt leagues beneath the holy mountain,near the base of the throne room’s rubiedentrance, outside the western labyrinths ofthe seven spires. He dismounted andentered the underground entrance to thesacred caverns. Seven hidden chambers inthe mountain each ascended into the innersanctum of the labyrinths. Gabriel walked,head bowed, his path lit only by theflaming eternal torches high against thecavern walls.

As he ascended higher into thechamber, an unaccountable dread clutchedhis heart. His ascent continued, deep intothe heart of the labyrinths, until he reachedthe sixth burning lamp. Nine tall silentwarriors stood with flaming broadswords.The Watchers, guardians of the hiddensanctum of Yehovah. They raised theirflaming swords to Gabriel, bowing inacknowledgment.

Gabriel continued through the dimpassage, ascending until he saw them:Yehovah’s dread warriors, the Watchersof the seventh flame.

The Watchers beheld him, and as onethey lifted their flaming swords, whichhad barred his way to the seventhchamber. Ever so slowly, Gabriel walkedon through the huge iron grid, magnetised

towards a blazing light on his left. TheWatchers drew back and disappeared. Hemoved deeper into the cavern. In front ofhim blew a stormy wind, and out of thewind burned a great indigo cloud withgreat lightning and flashings caming fromout of the inferno.

Gabriel stared ahead in wonder. Therebefore him stood Jether, in the very midstof the burning flames, his arms raised, hisstaff, the staff of the white winds, heldhigh. His hair and beard flew in thetempests that rose from the indigo cloud.Blue lightnings blazed from the staff. Hisface glowed as burnished bronze, his skinburning translucent. Dimly visible in themidst of the coals of fire lay sevenenormous gold-bound lapis-lazulicodices, their pages blazing with a fierce

blue fire – the codices of the WhiteJudgement. Gabriel watched as twomajestic flaming cherubim became visblethrough the flames. The first lifted the topcodex from the midst of the burning coals.He stretched forth his hand and passed thesacred tome to Jether.

Jether clasped it, holding it high. ‘TheCodex of the First Judgement!’ he cried.‘The secret counsels of Yehovah areunveiled!’

* * *Herod nodded and slowly opened thevoluminous red velvet curtains. Beforehim stood King Aretas, Balthazar, Caspar,Melchior and a hundred magi, with coffersof gold and precious stones. Herod boweddeeply to King Aretas, who bowed as

well. Herod looked at the overflowingcaskets, simpering like a child. He satdown on his throne, motioning to Aretas tosit opposite him on a smaller, ornatelygilded throne.

‘Your royal name has travelled oftenacross the desert plains to me, greatSheikh Aretas of Petra and Arabia, Aretasthe noble, the warrior, protector of hispeople.’

‘Your royal name is one of fame andrenown throughout the eastern plains, OHerod of Idumea, Herod the Great, fearedby all.’ Aretas bowed again.

A smile of pleasure spread acrossHerod’s slack-jowled face. ‘You come toJerusalem not only to seek peace, Aretas.You seek a king other than myself. Of thisI am convinced.’

Aretas stared deeply into the old king’seyes. He was debauched and evil, but hewas no fool – even near death, aformidable enemy. This Aretas knew. ‘Iseek to pay my respects to Herod theGreat, but yes, you are correct in yourassumptions. There is another that I seek,O Herod.’

Balthazar stepped forward and boweddeeply. ‘Your Majesty, we seek the onewho has been born king of the Jews. Wesaw his star in the East and have come toworship him.’

Herod’s eyes narrowed. He clutchedAretas’ arm and drew him away from themagi. ‘You are a brilliant man, Aretas...’Herod lowered his voice ‘...to haverealized the threat of a new king whowould ravage our kingdoms, and to have

allied yourself with the very magi whocan locate his presence.’

Herod turned back to the magi andsmiled agreeably. ‘My chief priests tellme that the newborn king is to be found inBethlehem. Go, make careful search forthe child. And when you find him, reportto me, that I, too, may go and pay myhomage to him. My armies are at yourdisposal, as is my hospitality.’

He clapped his hands. ‘Our minordisputes – the Dead Sea Valley, Syllaeus– are all behind us. Melech, show myroyal guests to their quarters.’

Chapter Six

Christos

The princeling Darsoc stood at the head ofthe Grey Magi, his cultured, sinisterdemon sorcerers. Ruthless and cunningbeyond compare, the Grey Magi wereLucifer’s finest informants, serving as hissenior intelligence corps. Archivists,philosophers, intellectuals. They stood, ahundred strong, their white hoods pulleddown over their faces, shadowed in thedarkness.

‘Shepherds! Pah!’ Alastor, GrandWizard of the Black Courts snarled toDarsoc. ‘This is no king’s dwelling!’ He

turned his black charger aroundimpatiently. ‘You and your magi waste mytime!’

Darsoc stood, not a muscle moving,every sense alert. Alastor threw back hissilver turbaned head, his squat blood redcat eyes gleaming with disdain.

‘A fool’s errand!’ he spat. ‘ We intendto return to the Black Courts in possessionof the facts!’

‘Then ride, Alastor.’ Darsoc’s wordswere spun like silk laced with venom.‘You would not want to disappoint yourunforgiving Master ... Grand MagusCharsoc. And forfeit your jewels ... andadvancement.’ A small evil smile playedon Darsoc’s lips. ‘Or your head.’

Alastor turned his black charger to facehis company of Black Court Wizards.

‘Turn back, there is nothing here – we rideto Persia!’ he cried, thundering away onhis monstrous fire-breathing stallion, hisblazing staff held high.

Darsoc threw back his hood. His pale,fine features exuded a strange luminosity.Only on closer scrutiny was it noticeablehow his once perfect skin was nowmarred and how his beautiful grey eyesglinted a dark evil. The gusts blew hislong strands of hair across his whitecloak.

‘I smell the scent of the Revelators onthe winds,’ he hissed. He held up a greygloved finger to his pale lips.

A tremendous wind blew overhead,accompanied by the sound of a monstrousbeating of wings. Instantly the sky wasfilled with thousands upon thousands of

giant white eagles, their wingspans ahundred feet, their collars and talons ofmolten gold.

‘The scouts of the White Knighthood.’A malicious smile spread across Darsoc’sface as he watched Alastor and hiscompany of Charsoc’s Black CourtWizards ascending into the black skies inthe direction of the east. ‘Michael ishere...’ he murmured, a gleam in his crueleyes. ‘We wait.’

* * *King Aretas, Balthazar, Gaspar andMelchior led the great caravan, seated onwhite Arabian steeds. Balista and Ayshe,Aretas’ manservant, followed closebehind. Balthazar gazed up at the star,now stationary, fixed directly above a

summit that lay in the distance, then pulledon the reins of his horse, gesturing to theparty to do likewise. He dismounted, hisheart pounding, swiftly leading the way upthe terraced hills of Bethlehem guidedonly by the solitary lamp that swung fromthe centre of a rope hung across theentrance of a lone inn ahead of them. Hestopped outside the low structure, built ofrough stones. It consisted of an enclosurewhere a small herd of cattle were huddledtogether, tied up for the night. Above theenclosure were six small stone rooms.Balthazar walked slowly past each lowchamber, studying the inhabitants closely,then turned to Aretas and Melchior andshook his head. Frowning, he walkedfurther out to a crude stone grotto attachedto the inn as a stable. Four small dogs,

their ribs sticking through their mangycoats, yapped at him relentlessly, nippingat his feet. He covered his face with hisrobe as the pungent stench of waste fromcows, mules and camels hit his nostrils,stopping outside the filthy area where themules and horses were tethered.Hesitantly, he peered inside, then turned,gesturing to the party to follow him.Aretas frowned. Balthazar nodded. Aretasshrugged in assent as Gaspar andMelchior followed Balthazar furtherinside the stable. There among the hay andstraw spread for the food and rest of thecattle, sitting cross-legged on a mat in thefar corner of the threadbare room sat ayoung girl, scarcely more than a child. Herthick waist-length tawny locks framed herfine olive features with its high

cheekbones, aquiline nose and softrosebud mouth. She stared at the guests,exhausted, but her brown eyes wereexultant. Her gaze turned to the babe in herarms. As one, the magi fell prostrate. Sheplaced the infant gently back down in themanger, then walked across the strawfloor towards Balthazar.

Aretas watched silently from thedoorway, staring at the empty stable, thewooden manger, the only furniture in theroom. Balthazar fell to his knees, tearsfalling down his wizened ebony cheeks.‘All these years ... these aeons, we havefaithfully guarded these,’ he whispered.Kept them safe for the Jewish Messiahprophesied by the great Hebrew Daniel.’He bowed his head, trembling.

A pale Gaspar gently laid the gifts at

Mary’s feet. ‘The cup of frankincense; thebox of myrrh...’

Melchior stepped forward. ‘The goldrod of Aaron. With these we pay homageto the Messiah.’ He knelt, his head bowed.

Mary lifted her head, brushing the longdark tresses of hair away from herenchanting face. ‘We humbly receive yourgifts,’ she replied.

‘We thank you.’ Joseph quietly watchedfrom behind the manger.

Balthazar raised his hands. ‘That Iwould live to see this day.’ He lifted hishead and turned to Aretas, who still stoodpale, and silent by the door. ‘Aretas,come.’ Balthazar’s eyes shone. ‘It is Hewhom our forbear Daniel longed for.’

Joseph held out his hand to Aretas, whoshook his head. ‘I am not a religious

man...’ he stated firmly.Balthazar grasped his arm firmly and

guided him over to the sleeping babe, nolonger wrapped in the snug swaddlingbands of his early days. Aretas stoodback, his hands held before him. Marysmiled tenderly and held out her hand toAretas.

Again he shook his head impatiently.‘Forgive me ... I do not believe as these...’

Mary continued to smile at him, hergaze locked to his. She took his brown,hardened hand gently in her small oliveone.

‘Tell them I do not believe...’ Aretaslooked pleadingly to Balthazar.

Mary looked compassionately at himwith her liquid brown eyes as if he weredull of understanding, and placed his hand

over the babe’s.Aretas fell backward as if jolted by a

violent, shocking force. Balthazar, Maryand Joseph stared, astounded, whileAretas’ entire body shuddered as in thethroes of a violent fit. His breathingbecame short and shallow and he flung hishead from side to side, raising his handsto his face before crumpling to the floor.

Balthazar stared down at him in horror.‘Forgive me...’ He raised his face toJoseph’s. ‘We must assist His Majesty atonce – we will remove him from yourmidst.’

Joseph frowned. ‘He is in no state to bemoved, sire.’

Mary nodded in agreement, her eyesfilled with consternation. She placed herhand on Balthazar’s. ‘There is a space at

the back, with the innkeeper. Let us takehim there till he is stronger.’

Balthazar nodded and turned to Gaspar,who stood trembling. ‘I will stay withKing Aretas. Look after our caravan.’

Gaspar nodded, dumbstruck, andexchanged a bewildered glance withMelchior.

Balthazar turned to gaze at the infantonce more, then grasped the king’s hand inhis; his fingers were still shakingviolently. But it was when Balthazarlooked into Aretas’ face that his blood rancold, for the young king was staringstraight ahead, his eyes wide open. He hadbeen struck completely blind.

Chapter Seven

The Revelation

Lucifer sat bathing his legs in the balmyamber and gold pools that shimmeredunder the pale, gloomy moons of the Westhorizon, sipping pomegranate elixir fromhis golden goblet. He turned to Marduk onhis left. ‘These kingmakers, the magi –what did they find?’ He plucked a bluefruit from the silvered vines thatflourished in his nocturnal orangeries,slicing it deftly with a small sharp blade.

Marduk nodded to the palace sorcerers,who stood petrified behind the ornamentalpools. ‘The nova was moving, Your

Majesty,’ the chief magus replied. ‘Theyleft Herod’s palace at dawn. They were toreport back to Herod, sire, as youordered.’

Lucifer sat silently, waiting. He placeda sliver of the fruit on his tongue andswallowed.

‘We received rumours they did notreturn, Your Majesty,’ the chief magusstammered.

Lucifer stared, his mind reeling.Marduk drew his face close to Lucifer’s.

‘They left by a different route.’Lucifer handed his cup to his cupbearer,

his expression inscrutable, and rose asBalberith dried him with a gold cloth. Hestrode through the Western terraces,Balberith following, through theorangeries back into the throne room,

dressed only in his white silk loincloth,then snatched his satin robe fromBalberith’s grasp and flung it over hisshoulders, enraged. ‘Rumours...’ heroared, waving the sorcerers away. Theyscuttled down the marbled chamber, pastthe Luciferean guard and out through thethrone room gates. ‘Rumours!’ hebellowed.

Alastor moved to the black gates,consulting in deep whisperings withMarduk, meanwhile Lucifer paced up anddown before his throne, hands behind hisback, staring at his reflection in thepolished black floor. Marduk hurried backup the nave of the throne room, strangelyperturbed.

‘Charsoc’s Black Court Wizards arereturned, Your Majesty.’

Lucifer did not look up from his pacing.‘Grant them audience,’ he commanded.

Immediately the gates opened to revealAlastor’s corpulent black cloaked figure.Behind him hovered his company of silverturbaned wizards, their black staffsissuing orange fire.

Lucifer stood facing his Northernbalconies, his back to them. ‘Where is thenewborn king?’

Alastor walked slowly up the nave ofthe throne room towards Lucifer, the onlysound in the throne room his narrowcrimson pointed shoes that squeaked withevery awkward step. Charsocmaterialized at the Black Gates. Silent.Observing.

Alastor stopped halfway up the nave.‘We found no king, Your Majesty.’

Lucifer turned, his face contorted withfury, then flung open the massive goldendoors of the north wing. The nova haddrawn nearer, far nearer to earth andblazed furiously.

‘The nova yet burns.’ He clenched hisfists in fury. ‘WHERE is the infant kingthat is born in the East?’

Darsoc and his Grey Magi entered thethrone room. The Grey Magi stood, ahundred strong. Breath-taking. Theirstrange beauty, bewitching. Tall and pale,their waist-length platinum hair fellsmooth as glass over their billowing whitevelvet cloaks fastened with delicate silverclasps intertwined with live asps. Darsocslid silently over the lapiz floors towardsAlastor and the throne.

Alastor stopped in front of Lucifer. ‘We

found no king of noble birth, sire, but onlya peasant babe wrapped in swaddlingclothes, before whom shepherdsworshipped.’

Marduk scowled impatiently.‘Shepherds! You waste His Excellency’stime.’ Lucifer grasped Marduk’s arm tostill him, his nails digging deep intoMarduk’s flesh. Marduk frowned,perplexed, but obeyed.

Alastor turned his head back to theapproaching Darsoc, then dropped to hisknees, ‘No – my Lord.’ An evil sneerspread across his flabby features. Heraised his shadowed eyes to Lucifer’s. ‘Itis Darsoc who wastes your time withshepherds,’ he rasped. ‘We, the GrandWizards of the Black Courts, wereprudent. We turned back to Persia.’

Charsoc slowly caressed the silverserpent on his staff, observing Alastorintently, deep in contemplation.

Lucifer walked over to the huge opendoors, staring out a long while at the nova.

‘Darsoc – my wicked prince.’‘My Lord,’ Darsoc bowed deeply to

Lucifer, then knelt beside Alastor.‘Tell me about these shepherds.’

Lucifer’s voice was solicitous, soothing,his back to Darsoc.

Darsoc lifted his shadowed eyes.‘Alastor deemed it a distraction, YourExcellency ... a mere diversion...’ heanswered, his voice listless but cultured.

Lucifer turned and stared at him, hisface inscrutable. ‘But you, my loyal andcunning slave...’

‘There came a great commotion in the

Second Heavens. A vast company of theheavenly knighthood descended.’

‘Their purpose?’ Charsoc strode up thenave directly towards the throne.

‘They were scouts.’ Darsoc’s voicewas measured. ‘Of the White Knighthoodof the holy mountain, sire.’

Alastor shifted his cumbersome frame,suddenly uneasy, looking from Charsoc toLucifer.

‘Of your brother Chief PrinceMichael’s Battalion, sire.’

‘Michael dispatches his scouts andproclaimers for a peasant babe?’ Luciferfrowned and pushed his hair back from hiseyes, momentarily confused.

‘Pale Fool!’ spat Alastor. ‘You wasteHis Excellency’s time!’

Darsoc moved his platinum head close

to Alastor’s silver turbaned one, thenpressed his pale grey lips againstAlastor’s fleshy ear. ‘I think not,’ hehissed. He removed his silver gauntletsand signed deftly to a tall, pale form,shrouded in a white velvet cloak whoinstantly materialized next to him.

‘I am one of the Grey Magi designatedJequon.’ Jequon spoke in a low silkenvoice. ‘Chief archivist of the Grey Magi.’

‘And what did your archivistsdocument, Jequon?’ Lucifer inquiredsoftly, his back to Alastor.

Jequon stared down at his long, paletrembling hands, then looked back atLucifer’s back. ‘My archivistsdocumented the pronouncements of thewhite knighthood.’ Sweat broke out on histemple. ‘Relay the declaration, Jequon.’

Charsoc commanded. ‘It may distress mysovereign Emperor...’ Jequon bowedagain to Lucifer. Charsoc rested his handominously on the hilt of his glintingNecromancer blade. ‘Relay it. Word forword.’

Jequon took a deep breath. ‘That ... thatthis day a child is born – this day in thetown of David...’ Jequon looked up atLucifer, his courage deserting him ‘Asaviour who is...’. Not a muscle ofLucifer’s face moved. ‘Who is ... Christ...’

Lucifer swung around in astonishmentto face Charsoc. The blood drained fromCharsoc’s face.

‘Chris ... tos,’ Lucifer hissed, appalled.A terrible horror contorted his features.

‘...The Lord,’ Jequon gasped, his eyesnever leaving Lucifer’s. A strange smile

played on Darsoc’s pale lips as hewatched Charsoc walk unsteadily towardsAlastor, his whole body trembling.

Alastor stared in shock from Lucifer toCharsoc. ‘An error, my lord.’ He stood tohis feet, his chins trembling. ‘An error.’Charsoc murmured.

With one savage thrust, Charsocimpaled Alastor on his necromancerblade. Alastor stood choking on his ownblue blood, retching.

Then with one sudden, brutal thrust,Charsoc sliced straight through Alastor’sneck. Alastor’s head landed on the floorwith a thud. ‘Errors are never tolerable,’Charsoc muttered. His blade slipped outfrom his hand and clattered onto the emptyfloor.

‘Errors are never tolerable!’ Like

lightning, Lucifer swung around toCharsoc, his own sword raised directlyabove Charsoc’s neck. ‘Your magi havefailed me, Charsoc!’ Charsoc’s entirebody shook uncontrollably, sweat pouredfrom his temple.

‘This Nova ... this King...’ Lucifergrasped Charsoc’s long hair savagely inhis fist and wrenched him so close thatCharsoc could feel Lucifer’s hot breathburning against his cheeks. ‘This King isnone other than Christos! His blood – is itundefiled?’ Lucifer gave another cruelwrench on Charsoc’s hair. ‘You know, asI, the tenets of Eternal Law.’ Charsocstared at Lucifer, horror struck, his mindreeling. ‘If his blood is undefiled, he willexchange his soul for the souls of Men andwrest my kingdom from me!’ Lucifer

roared.Lucifer stood, silent for a full minute,

then flung Charsoc savagely from hisgrasp. He stumbled to the floor beside theunfortunate Alastor. Alastor’s headvanished. Then his body followed,disappearing straight to the Abyss.

Lucifer flung his broadsword down,then strode to the window and threw openthe curtains, raging blasphemies at the starstill overhead in the Second Heaven.‘Yehovah’s genius! He sent Himself!Tricked by my own preconceptions, as Heknew I would be!’

He pushed past Charsoc to whereDarsoc stood, trembling.

‘His Messiah will have no palace, noroyal robes. His Messiah is born of dustand clay! Tell me, Darsoc, the destination

of the infant king,’ he hissed, his face onlyinches away from Darsoc’s own.

‘I followed ... I followed your royalorders, sire,’ Darsoc uttered in growingdread. ‘My Black Murmurers followed themagi back through the desert towardsPersia.’

‘The infant is with the magi?’ Lucifercircled him.

Darsoc held out an unsealed missive,his pale fingers shaking uncontrollably.Lucifer snatched the missive, thencrumpled it in his hand, his face contortedwith sheer hatred.

‘The child has vanished!’ he snarled.Lucifer leaned heavily against the

pillar, running his fingers through hisraven locks, muttering to himself in anevil, peculiar angelic tongue as one

demented.‘My brothers deceive me,’ he muttered.

He turned to Charsoc, still trembling onthe floor. ‘Investigate the circumstance ofthe infant’s birth. Find out what Jether isup to. Do not dare fail me again,Charsoc!’

He wrapped his robe tightly aroundhimself, then he turned to Marduk. ‘Stir upthe demonic hordes that torment thatimbecile Herod day and night. Infect hisdreams that he may have it in his heart tokill all males under two years old. Theswaddling prince shall not escape mywrath. Summon Belzoc!’ he cried. ‘Greatprince of Persia, Prince Michael is his!Prepare our war chariots! Amass allregents to make war against my brothers.Astaroth!’ he screamed, ‘Alert all powers,

principalities and rulers of the darkness ofthis world ... the great satanic princes ...Nakan and his Necromancer Kings, theThrones of Folcador, the Warlocks ofIshtar ... Call them to assemble on thegreat plains of Perdition. And find mybrother Michael. Where Michael is, therewill be the child Christos, also!’

Lucifer hissed, ‘Then we strike!’

Chapter Eight

The Seventh Stone

Jether sat on his jacinth throne in theseventh chamber, deep in the undergroundcrypts of the labyrinths, poring over thegreat blue codex. Gabriel stood acrossfrom him, studying him intently ... waiting.

‘The codex unveils Yehovah’s plan, hissecret counsel prepared aeons before theadvent of the Race of Men,’ Jether said,closing his eyes in reverence.

‘Yehovah prepares a place for theinfant king in Egypt, in Alexandria. Thereis one king of Arabia; his name is Aretas.He has been chosen to bear his name. He

will aid the infant in his flight.’‘Lucifer has not seen the codices?’

Gabriel asked.‘Lucifer was long captivated by the

codices of fire. They have lain in thelabyrinths for aeons before his origin,’Jether said. ‘His soul yearned to gazeupon their pages, but no, he has not lookedupon their contents.’

‘And what of Charsoc?’ Gabrielquestioned. ‘He was privy to the sacredmysteries. Keeper of the sixth stone.’

‘Charsoc...’ Jether’s expression grewhard. ‘He well knows of their existence.The sixth chamber of knowledge was hisabode but the chamber of the seventhflame was sealed from him.’

‘So the sacred mystery of the Messiahis safe from their polluted sorceries.’

Jether closed the book; its goldeninclusions of pyrites shimmered like littlestars out of the codex’s deep blue lapiscasing. He looked up at Gabriel.

‘I go to retrieve the seventh stone.’Gabriel stared at Jether, incredulous.

‘Six stones resided here within theLabyrinths,’ he whispered. ‘One wentmissing ... from the sixth Chamber ... atCharsoc’s defection.’ Gabriel stared atJether intently.

‘No angelic being has ever laid eyes onthe seventh stone...’

‘The seventh stone, the stone of fire,possesses all the combined power of thesix. It lies beyond the ordinances ofheaven.’ Jether’s eyes grew dim withwonder. ‘It lies beyond the treasuries ofwinds and hail, beyond the seven seas of

wisdom. In the very cradle of theuniverse.’

Jether carefully picked up the codexand deposited it into a large crevice in thecavern wall into the great silver casket ofthe sacred writs.

‘It will protect the infant while hewalks as one of the Race of Men, until itsseal is lifted when he will face theultimate test ... against Lucifer himself.’

Jether placed his cloak around hisshoulders and clasped it with shakingfingers. ‘We have no time to waste. Thechild must be sealed with the seventhstone. At present he is vulnerable.Unprotected. You, Gabriel, make haste toJoseph. Instruct him of Yehovah’s plan totake the infant to Egypt. Aretas isYehovah’s instrument to lead them to the

monastery at Alexandria.’‘I will leave at once for the land of the

Race of Men,’ Gabriel said.Jether nodded. ‘I dispatch Vesper, my

warrior eagle, with a message for Michaelto leave the Eastern horizons. He mustjourney at once to the caravan. He is theinfant’s only protection from Lucifer’sevil scheming until I seal the child atAlexandria with the seventh stone of fire.’Jether removed a small ampulla filledwith myrrh and cassia oils from his robes.Gabriel knelt before him.

‘Time is against us.’ Jether anointedGabriel’s temple, then laid his handsgently on his head in a blessing ofconsecration.

‘Avoid the eastern corridors,’ hewhispered. ‘The Black Murmurers

traverse them incessantly. I prepare for myjourney.’

* * *Balthazar had paced the small squareroom all night in his supplications,pleading to the God of Daniel to helpAretas, his king and his friend. He bathedAretas’ fevered head with the rags thatMary had given him, soaked in myrrh fromthe caravan’s store, in the hope it wouldbring him back to his right mind.

He paced the room for hours, praying,pleading. Yet the ancient Balthazar sensedthat Aretas was being weighed in thehands of the Omniscient. He would wait.

It had been past midnight before Aretas’hands stopped trembling, and nearingdawn when Balthazar could first make out

his first incoherent ramblings and Aretasopened his eyes again. And it was daylightbefore he rose from the pallet on the floorand took his first unsteady steps.

But when he finally took Balthazar’shand in his, his hand was steady, his eyeswere clear, and his face exuded a peacethat Balthazar had never before seen in theproud, headstrong young king.

Aretas tried to speak, but no wordswould come, only tears – tears that Aretascould not stop. Tears of a king’s pastbloodsheds; tears of a king’s thousandmurders; tears of a king’s thousanddebaucheries and treasons ... and the tearsof a man’s thousand regrets. And so it wasthat he wept on the ancient astronomer’sarm, so that Balthazar’s robes weresoaked from Aretas’ weeping.

And then, suddenly, he grew calm.‘The babe is in great danger. We must

protect Daniel’s Messiah and the holyfamily.’ He looked around him. Ayeshe,his ageing faithful steward, stood outsidethe door. ‘Ayeshe, prepare my royalguard!’ He stood up, his voice clear andstrong. ‘My royal ancestors werebequeathed a monastery in Alexandria byan ancient caste of magi of the RoyalHouse of Egypt. It will be a safe house forthe infant king. We ride to Egypt!’

* * *High up on the eastern elevation of theBlack Palace, the sharp steel ofbroadswords glinted as Lucifer and hischief of armies, Lord Astaroth, GrandDuke of hell, thrust and parried as they did

each dawn, an integral part of Lucifer’srigorous physical regime about which hewas fanatical almost to the point ofnarcissism. This dawn, however, heseemed strangely distracted. Astaroth’sbroadsword hit Lucifer’s chest a ferociousblow, and Lucifer doubled over in agony.The strapping Astaroth laughedtriumphantly and turned his back. Likelightning, Lucifer brought Astaroth gaspingto the ground, his hands twisted beneathhis torso in agony.

Lucifer raised his fencing mask, a smileof satisfaction on his face. ‘That is why Iam king of hell’ – he threw hisbroadsword down on the lava floor andtook a cloth from Araquiel to dry his face– ‘and you, Astaroth, are but a Duke ...albeit Grand...’

The scarred but still handsome colossusshook his blond mane, still dazed. Luciferlooked fleetingly down at the fallenwarrior. At times, Astaroth’s bearing waseerily reminiscent of Michael. From theback, he could be Michael’s double. Inworlds long departed, Astaroth had beencommander of Michael’s finest legions,his most trusted general, Michael’s closestcompatriot. Lucifer’s expression darkenedat the thought of his brother. And now,Astaroth was Lucifer’s champion,commander-in-chief of Perdition’s armies.Did Astaroth have regret? Lucifer wipedhis face with a silk cloth. He would neverbe sure.

‘Prime your legions,’ he growled. ‘Weride tomorrow at dawn.’ Astaroth bowedin reverence, striding to the far portico,

then mounted his black winged stallionand rode the skies in the direction of hisvast battalions’ war chariots gathering onthe vast plains of Perdition.

‘Your Excellency.’Lucifer turned. ‘I still smart from your

folly, Charsoc.’ His mouth tightened.‘I redeem myself, Your Majesty. Our

demonic scholars and sorcerer sages haveexamined the circumstances of the infant’sbirth. My archivists confrm their findings.’

Charsoc moved towards Lucifer.‘The infant was indeed born of a

woman of the Race of Men. The birth waswitnessed. The Black Murmurers haveverified their findings. He was born oneof the Race of Men, like any other in atown named Bethlehem. His mother is aHebrew girl. A youth. The Father – one

named Joseph. The possibility, however,exists that a created egg could have beenimplanted by Yehovah in the host.’

‘Christos incarnate...’ Lucifer rubbedhis chin, deep in thought. ‘No possibilityis to be excluded ... What of the egg’sconception?’

‘As is the way of the Race of Men, theinfant’s conception is the result of twogerm cells: the egg from the mother, theseed from the father. In the Race of Man,these share equally in the inheritedmutations of the sin nature – all derivingfrom the fall. The egg still has to befertilized by seed from the father, Joseph,to enable its conception and replication...’Charsoc smiled triumphantly. ‘It is theway of all of the Race of Men.’

‘I am well versed in the biogenetic

engineering of the Race of Men.’ Luciferpaced back and forth. ‘Every drop ofblood the child produces is as a result ofthe introduction of the male sperm. Thefetal and maternal blood do not come intoactual contact, separated by the doublelayer of chrorionic epithelium.’

He turned his face to Charsoc’s, anunnatural gleam in his eyes. ‘What if theyhave an alternative plan – a plan todeliberately by-pass the male seed...?’Lucifer’s expression grew dark. ‘Andprevent the inherited mutations.’

‘A substitute seed?’ Charsoc frowned.‘A seed that is not of the Race of Men.’

Lucifer stood staring out beyondPerdition’s magenta horzons. ‘One that isincorruptible...’

Charsoc turned to Lucifer,

thunderstruck. Lucifer nodded.‘Yehovah.’ Lucifer declared.‘Sire!’ Charsoc gasped. ‘It is strictly

forbidden – prohibited by the tenets ofEternal Law issuing from Yehovahhimself. You know firsthand – yourgenerals who left their first estate byhaving intercourse with the daughters ofmen. Their punishment for theirtransgressing of the Eternal Law was to beto be cast in eternal chains into the lowestregions of the netherworld – Tartarus.’

‘I am well aware. The pits of gloomuntil the Day of Judgement,’ Lucifermurmured. ‘So – if Yehovah fertilizes thecreated egg, He would be culpable ofcohabiting with the Race of Men, just asthe fallen host banished to Tartarus.’

Lucifer walked to the far side of the

Eastern Wing housing Perdition’s royalaviaries, pacing restlessly up and downbefore hundreds of colossal gilded cagesthat housed his sinister scavenger scouts.

‘My brothers will have their schemes,their well formulated conspiracies butwhen it comes to the issue of Yehovah –He is bound to his own Eternal Law. Hecannot transgress it,’ he muttered, ‘even tosave the Race of Men.’

He unclasped an aviary door and gentlyclasped in his gloved hands a hissingvulture scavanger chick wearing adiamond collar. He caressed its blackfeathers soothingly, his sapphire eyesshadowed in thought.

‘Against my deeper instinct, I findmyself persuaded,’ he spoke softly tohimself. ‘Yehovah will have no part in the

conception of the Christos seed.’ He spunaround. ‘No!’ He strode over to a hellcagefilled with screeching pale blue-eyedwrithing bat-like creatures and graspedone by its long slimy rat tail. ‘There willbe no incorruptible seed, Charsoc!’ hedeclared. The scavenger chick screecheddeafeningly, opening its cruel curvedbeak, its red fangs visible. Luciferdangled the shrieking bat creature facedown. The chick crushed its head with itsferocious fangs and swallowed it with onebite.

‘Good boy, Cagrino.’ Lucifer strokedthe chick’s head. ‘The Christos-infant hadto have received its genetic inheritancethrough the father’s seed,’ Lucifermurmured. ‘He partook of the inherent sindamage present in Joseph’s seed and

blood, therefore the Christos infant’sblood is defiled.’ Lucifer frowned. ‘Onlyone with undefiled blood, free frominherent sin damage, can exchange his soulfor the souls of the Race of Men andrelease them from my rule.’

He placed Cagrino gently on a velvetcushion back into the gilded cage andclasped the door, deep in contemplation.

‘Yet He comes to destroy my kingdom.I sense it.’

Lucifer walked over to the Easternterrace and stood surveying his armies.Hell’s immense and terrible militia wereassembling on the smouldering volcanicwastelands of hell. ‘Why is he here on myplanet?’ he whispered. ‘We must destroyhim before he grows in strength.’

‘There is a way, Excellency.’ Charsoc

held up a missive with the First Heaven’sseal. ‘The vulture shamans took arevelator eagle “into custody”.’ Charsocwaited. ‘It was Vespar.’

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. ‘Vespar...,’ heechoed. He turned, immediately alert.

‘He carried this missive from Jether theJust...’ Charsoc hesitated, a sinister smileon his face. ‘It was addressed to yourbrother, Prince Michael, sire.’ Luciferstrode over to Charsoc and snatched theletter from his grasp, Charsoc watchedintently as his liege lord examined thenote.

‘Jether meets Michael and the infantking near Alexandria, with the great seal –the seventh stone,’ Lucifer murmured, astrange exhilaration in his gaze. He staredout towards the horizon, his back to

Charsoc. Remembering.‘The seventh stone’s power is

indomitable. It holds in itself thecombined powers of all six stones of thelabyrinths. Once the infant is sealed withthe stone of fire, we, the fallen, arepowerless against him. Our onlyopportunity is...’

Charsoc moved towards Lucifer,clasping his arm with his bony fingers.‘The breach in time, sire, before the infantreaches the monastery and Jether. Hisgreatest vulnerability.’

Lucifer stared at him with an unnaturalglint in his eye. ‘He comes to destroy mykingdom. Instead I shall destroy him. Youhave surpassed yourself, Charsoc.’Lucifer held out his hand with the greatdamson ruby of Satan. Charsoc knelt

before him and kissed his ring. ‘You arepardoned.’

‘Thank you, my lord ... my king.’Charsoc bowed deeply.

‘The disciples of hell assemble!’Lucifer cried. ‘Instruct Astaroth tomarshal them for war without delay to theland the Race of Men call Egypt. We slaythe infant king!’

* * *The fierce, relentless desert winds blastedacross the caravan, it was nearing dusk,and the party had been travelling throughEgypt for what seemed an eternity. Dozensof camels, laden with frankincense, goldand treasures of the East, headed theenormous caravan across the vast desertplains, their progress impeded by raging

sandstorms. Ten elegantly caparisonedwhite Arab stallions paced in thecaravan’s centre. Mary clutched theswaddled baby tightly to her breast, herfeatures almost hidden by her hood, hereyes resolute. A sudden chill blew overthe caravan and the sky grew dark as animmense shuddering began. Mary coveredthe babe and held Him tightly to her.

* * *‘Jether! Jether!’ The pressing cry filteredfrom the colossal balconies of the RoyalAmber Chamber that hung high aboveJether’s private monastic cloister quartersin the Tower of Winds, down to whereMaheel and Issachar were assisting Jetherin his varied preparations for his journeyto the cradle of the universe.

Obadiah carried an empty silver amuletover to Jether, who threaded it deftly on along silver chain.

‘Jether! Jether!’Looking up, Jether and Maheel watched

Xacheriel making his precarious waydown the wide polished amber spiralsteps of the Royal Chamber. He clungdistractedly to his embroidered purple andgolden taffeta toga as he descended, hiscurled satin slippers sliding dangerouslyon the steps. Dimnah clung desperately tohis arm, hindering rather than aiding hisprogress.

Xacheriel misstepped and they bothtumbled in a precarious heap of purpleand gold into Jether’s private libraries,landing in an undignified sprawl on thegleaming amber floor.

‘Drat and bumble...’ Xacherielmumbled, scrabbling for his monocle,now buried under mounds of newly boundAnnals. He glowered at the tremblingDimnah as though it were all theyoungling’s fault.

Jether shook his head. He placed thesilver amulet around his neck and closedthe clasp, then strode over to thelanguishing pair, followed closely byMaheel. He stared down at Xacheriel’senormous feet, which were crammed intoa pair of tight cerulean satin slippersobviously several sizes too small. One ofXacheriel’s rare leanings to vanity.

‘You didn’t, by any sheer chance...’Jether addressed Xacheriel, ‘...place anyof your newly concocted time-travellinglubrication grease under your ceremonial

slippers, did you?’Xacheriel glared indignantly up at him.

‘I was conducting a voltage experiment inthe hologram chambers.’ He scowledsheepishly. ‘My – my latest time-travelling experiment – and I wanderedover into the Red Zone by mistake,’ hedeclared dramatically. ‘A temporarylapse of my instruments. The grease aidedmy hasty departure.’

Maheel shook his gentle white head.‘You know we have cautioned you againand again not to travel on thosecoordinates.’ He frowned in concern. ‘Itis dangerous, my dear Xacheriel.Hazardous at best. Charsoc’s spiesfrequent that time lock, and they are mostruthless with their methods of torture.’

‘Yes, yes...’ Xacheriel gave a

dismissive wave.‘The demon werewolves frequent the

time corridors in the Red Zone,’ Jethersaid darkly and deliberately. Xacherielpaled momentarily much to Jether’s relief.Dimnah’s mouth dropped open, enthralled.

Jether decided to press the point whilehe had the advantage. ‘...As do the flesheating Necromancer Kings...’ Jetherglowered. Xacheriel’s hands trembledvisibly. ‘One of the myriad advantages ofnot being constituted of matter.’ Heconsoled himself, then yanked hisenormous scarlet spotted handkerchieffrom his inner pocket and wiped the sweatthat suddenly poured from his brow.Dimnah’s mouth hung wide open in awe.Issachar strode up behind Jether.

‘You needed me?’ Jether asked

Xacheriel. ‘I leave to retrieve the stone offire.’

Xacheriel frowned, then smacked histemple violently with his large hand. ‘Yes... Yes ... of course!’ Xacheriel stroderound in circles, ordering his thoughts.

‘It is a terrible tale, revered Jether,’ hedeclared ominously.

Issachar yawned loudly anddeliberately. Jether glared at him fromunder his eyebrows.

‘A terrible tale.’ Xacheriel’s big handsshook. ‘One that affects your journeyings,’he whispered.

Jether frowned, placing his hand gentlyon Xacheriel’s shoulder. ‘Calm yourself,Xacheriel, old friend. Breathe deeply.’

Xacheriel inhaled, his great chestheaving. ‘On my way back past the Red

Zone, in the Second Heaven, I encounteredthe Revelator scouts, Gabriel’s firstcorerank of Eagles.’

Jether waited patiently, knowing hewould eventually get to the point.

‘They had in their custody one nasty-looking-and-smelling customer. Vulture-like organism – mangy feathers.’

‘A vulture shaman – one of Charsoc’sscouts.’

Jether nodded.Dimnah’s mouth gaped so wide that

Jether reached over and physically closedit with his hand.

‘Dimnah!’ Xacheriel barked.‘Anyway, the nasty-looking feathered

life form had this – he called it his“trophy”.’ Xacheriel scrabbled in hisvoluminous pockets, eventually fishing out

a great silver-and-diamond collar bearingthe seal of the eagle revelators. He passedit to Jether, dabbing gingerly at his eyeswith his handkerchief.

‘Vespar...’ Jether uttered, stunned.Xacheriel clasped Jether’s old fingers

awkwardly in his own.‘I am sorry to be the bearer of

miserable news, old friend.’Jether extricated his trembling fingers

from Xacheriel’s iron grasp, then swiftlyturned over Vespar’s collar. The scarletinsignia that signalled a missive was inflight was still in place. Jether stared pastXacheriel, his features frozen in horror.For he knew with a terrible certainty thatif Michael had received the missive, hewould promptly have replaced the scarletinsignia with a gold one from the royal

house to signify his receipt of thecommunique. It was the simplest rule ofthe corridors, adhered to by one and all ofthe First Heaven’s legions.

‘The insignia is in place.’ Jether’svoice was barely audible. ‘Vespar did notreach Michael with my missive.Consequently, Michael did not receive myinstruction to leave the East and escort thechild to Alexandria.’

Jether held on to the balustrade forsupport, his hands trembling. ‘The infanttravels as we speak. Unprotected.’

He turned to the elders, his face whiteas a sheet. They stared at him, appalled.

‘Far worse. If Lucifer discovers themissive, he knows I meet the infant Kingnear Alexandria with the seventh stone.He will be mobilising hell’s armies even

as we speak.’Jether hurried up the amber stairs, the

elders following close behind. ‘SendSachiel to Michael. He must leave forEgypt without delay.’

He turned to the elders on the stairway.‘We no longer have the element of

surprise. Prime Raphael and our armiesfor assault. We leave at dusk.’

Chapter Nine

The Hordes of Hell

Hell’s immense and terrible armiesmobilised on the smouldering volcanicwastelands of hell. Folcador, hell’sfearsome archduke and Lucifer’s finestgeneral, a ferocious demon with the faceof an angel and the wings of a griffin, rodefierce and proud in his black war chariot,leading a hundred legions of the fallen.Astaroth, grand duke of hell, rode theskies, his war chariot pulled by the fiercewhite ice dragons of Siberia. His barbaricgenerals – Pruslas, Barbatos, andRashaverak – marched below, the

menacing Black Horde marching behind.Forneus, the great and scheming

marquis of hell, rode the skies onmonstrous, coiled Leviathan, followed bytwenty-nine legions of silver-tonguedwinged serpent demons.

The vast companies of Dark Grey Magion their headless three-humped camels,rode alongside the dread warlocks ofIshtar on the backs of werewolves anddragons. Overhead in hell’s crimson,murky skies flew the demon Witches ofBabylon on Leviathan, and Hera and theBanshees of Valkyrie on their flying giantserpents. Marching to the rear was thegreat, macabre company of NecromancerKings, leading their armies of livingskeletons.

Belzoc, barbaric prince of Persia and

Lucifer’s Commander-in-Chief, led twentythousand of hell’s legions, riding theirblack war chariots pulled by hell’sformidable dark-winged stallions.

Lucifer stood, menacing and proud, inhis monstrous black war chariot, its silverwheels sprung with jagged war blades.The crimson flame on hell’s infernal flagflew proudly.

The sinister Shaman Kings steppedforward; behind them marched the vastcompany of hooded Shaman Drummers.

‘Armies of hell, I salute you!’ Lucifercried. The slow, menacing throb of wardrums pulsed beneath his voice.‘Slaughter the usurper King before He issealed!’

A terrible, blood-curdling roar went upfrom the armies of hell as the rulers of the

dark world thundered towards Egypt’sskies.

* * *One by one, fine hairline cracks started toappear on the great idols of Egypt in thegreat temple. The shuddering built to acrescendo with an overpowering roar as,one by one, the imposing golden imagescrashed to the ground. Temple priests ranfor their lives, the idols continued to falluntil not one remained standing.

Mary bowed her head and stared downat the sleeping babe. She shivered.Thousands of silent sinister-lookingvultures had descended towards them thispast hour, circling the caravan, castingstrange dark shadows across the desert.

Aretas frowned. ‘We must make haste,’

he said. ‘There is danger in the wind.’He flicked the reins and galloped to the

head of the caravan, strangely troubled.* * *

Raphael, resplendent in his fullceremonial battle armour, rode past thefront line of the armies of the First Heavenin his platinum war chariot, pulled bytwenty winged stallions. He stood tall,imperial, the valiant general of Yehovah’sarmies on the mount of the North in theFirst Heaven.

To the left marched Gabriel, attired inhis ceremonial war regalia, followed byhis vast company of the Revelators, hisswift and agile archers, in their suits ofgleaming silver armour. Their greatbronze crossbows reached from the

ground past their heads, at the ready.Overhead flew a million of the

Revelator ‘scouts’, occupying the lengthand breadth of the skies – the FirstHeaven’s huge white-feathered warrioreagles, with their beaks and talons ofgold, their wingspans over one hundredfeet. The archangel princes led Michael’sbattalions. Juhdiel the Daring led athousand legions. Uriel the Fearless rodeahead in his enormous silver chariot,leading four hundred legions of the FirstHeaven’s finest swordsmen, followed byhis multitude of warrior princes. Jetherand his twenty-three royal compatriots, theangelic monarchs, were mounted on theirroyal white chargers, standing in asemicircle, their lances raised.

Gabriel drew the Sword of State from

its jewelled sheath and raised it highabove his head. ‘We fight for Yehovah,that truth and justice may prevail!’ hecried.

‘We protect the infant king!’The deafening roar from the First

Heaven’s armies resounded through theFirst Heaven. Jether rode over to whereRaphael and Gabriel stood surveyingheaven’s armies. He clasped Raphael’sarm.

‘My spies inform me that Lucifer sendsBelzoc, prince of Persia, ahead toslaughter Michael before he reaches theinfant.’ Jether lowered his eyes. ‘Hell’sdepraved champion would settle an oldscore.’

‘He defeated Belzoc once over theHebrew Daniel,’ Raphael declared. ‘With

Yehovah’s strength, he shall defeat himagain.’

Jether frowned. ‘One clean thrust of thesword of justice, and Belzoc is banishedto the Abyss to await the Judgement. Youraeons as Lucifer’s commander-in-chiefwill serve you well against theirmalevolent strategies.’

Raphael spoke with a hard fierceness.‘Once Belzoc is slain, speed is Michael’sadvantage ... Lucifer will be close behind.They are evenly matched.’

‘You have your fastest warriors?’Raphael nodded. ‘My swiftest legions

are my escort.’ Raphael pulled down hisgolden visor. ‘The Messiah’s kingdomcome!’

His twenty winged stallions and warchariot thundered into the lilac skies,

followed by a hundred thousand of hislegions’ war chariots.

Jether stared after them, strangelytroubled. He turned to Gabriel and placedhis hand upon his shoulder. ‘You areprepared for Nakan and his necromancersorceries?’

Gabriel gestured to the amulet aroundhis neck. ‘Well prepared, revered Jether,our arrows dipped in the sacred ointmentfrom the labyrinth’s sixth spire.’

‘The entire destiny of the Race of Menrests on the outcome...’ Jether lookedsilently into Gabriel’s eyes. They claspedhands, and Jether embraced him.

‘Yehovah be with you, noble Gabriel.Press any advantage against Lucifer. TellMichael to bring the child safely to me. Ishall be waiting.’

Jether placed his hand on Gabriel’sshoulder. ‘I go beyond the treasuries of thehail, Gabriel,’ he whispered, ‘to the wakeof the universes – to retrieve the seventhstone. I await you at Alexandria.’

* * *‘Your Majesty, Your Majesty!’ Ayeshegalloped up alongside Aretas at the frontof the caravan, his stallion whinnying interror. Ayeshe tugged at his arm with hisscrawny brown fingers. ‘The noise, sire –it frightens the camels!’

Aretas nodded; the royal servantsexchanged looks of trepidation. ‘Stay inmy place, Ayeshe.’

Aretas pulled on his stallion’s reins andgalloped to the back of the caravan. Heturned his Arab steed around and scanned

the vast expanse of desert. He could hearthe great thundering of horses’ hooves farbehind him, but the desert was empty.Flat. A vast plateau stretching to infinity.And then the hair on the back of his neckcrawled as he watched the desert sand afull league behind being kicked up, as ifby the hooves and shadows of a greatarmy on horseback, drawing down on thecaravan.

The string of horses and camels startedto move faster, and the Arab steedswhinnied with fear.

A second great thundering was nowcoming towards them from the oppositeside of the desert. The white steeds of thecaravan now panicked visibly as thecamel riders struggled to keep their beastsunder control. Joseph and Ayeshe, chilled

with fear, watched the desert plains, as thetwo waves of invisible moving sandconverged towards the caravan. Aretasgalloped over to where Joseph rode withMary and the babe.

‘Some strange magic is afoot,’ he cried.‘Surround the infant King!’

Immediately Aretas’ royal guardsurrounded Mary and the sleeping infant.‘Full speed – make haste!’

Aretas rode next to Mary, keeping agrim eye on the infant. Jesus sleptpeacefully.

* * *Belzoc and his ferocious hordes closedfast, riding from the west, gaining groundon the now galloping caravan. Butsuddenly a small white throng appeared

ahead of them on the eastern horizon,Michael and his lone company of warriorsadvancing towards the caravan from theeast.

Michael stood tall in his flaming chariotpulled by twenty winged seraph stallions,racing along a full league above the starkdesert plains, leading a hundred angelicwarriors astride their white steeds.

Belzoc pulled the reins brutally,bringing his vicious black steeds up shorton the desert plain, and turned hell’smonstrous black chariot to meet theoncoming Michael head-on. They facedeach other on the sweltering sand, lessthan a length apart.

‘Belzoc, prince of Persia,’ Michaelcried, ‘prepare to war!’

Belzoc stared in relish at the empty

sands yawning leagues behind Michael,then turned to the hundreds of thousands ofhis black-armoured Persian angeliclegions behind him.

‘Michael, chief prince of Israel ... Yourarmies are late!’ Belzoc spat, givingMichael a menacing grin, then swung hissix-foot black blade savagely in the air,‘Prepare to die!’ Immediately his savagehordes let out a bloodthirsty roaring,stampeding towards Michael’s angelicwarriors. Thousands of the savage hordesof darkness rained blows on theferociously fighting warriors of the FirstHeaven, broadsword against broadsword.

Michael’s and Belzoc’s chariotsthundered across the sand towards thecaravan, their flaming wheels grindingagainst each other as they raced neck and

neck.‘Your swordsmanship has grown soft,

Michael, since our last skirmish over theHebrew Daniel!’ Belzoc shoutedderisively. He pushed his filthy braidedhair away from his face. Caked with dirt,it hung down past his brawny thighs.

‘You have never forgiven me fordefeating you in front of your armies,Belzoc!’ Michael cried. Sparks and rivetsflew from the princes’ chariot wheels, thestallions straining to breaking point as, allaround them, the violent battle played out.

‘This time you shall pay with your life,chief prince of the royal house ofYehovah. I shall exhibit your head on thegates of Hades.’ Belzoc spat on theground, wiping his mouth with a grimyarm.

‘By the setting of eleven moons, youshall be banished to the penitentiary inTartarus!’ Michael yelled, never takinghis eyes off his enemy. He followedBelzoc’s gaze far in the distance, to Maryand the sleeping infant.

Michael stood still, all senses alert, hisgaze fixed on Belzoc. Belzoc movedsuddenly and, with his immense strength,jumped across from his chariot ontoMichael’s, ploughing his sword throughthe air at Michael’s neck. Michael neatlyevaded the stroke and slammed his sworddown across Belzoc’s chest, catching himoff guard and knocking him, winded, to thefloor of Michael’s chariot. Enraged, thedemon prince thrust savagely at Michael.Belzoc thrust. Michael thrust back. Belzocrose to his feet, leering. The ring of steel

on steel resounded across the desert, asthe chariot veered furiously ahead.

‘I shall feed Christos’ tender flesh tothe wild dogs that roam these mountains...’Belzoc smirked. He thrust his swordthrough Michael’s thigh, then drew it outsavagely as hundreds of small curvedbarbs tore Michael’s flesh to shreds.

Michael fell to the chariot floor,collapsing to his knees in pain.

‘My latest addition – rips to the verybone,’ Belzoc leered lecherously. I shalltear Christos limb from limb.’ Sweatpoured from Michael. Incensed, heattempted to stand but collapsed,overwhelmed by the excruciating pain.

Belzoc shoved him to the floor,towering over him triumphantly. ‘This day– you go to the Abyss, Michael!’

He raised his broadsword overMichael’s neck, then turned his head tofollow Michael’s gaze over to Raphael’swar chariots thundering towards them,now visible on the horizon. In that instant,Michael grasped Belzoc’s tangled blackmane hanging at his thighs and wound it inhis fist in an iron grasp, savagelywrenching Belzoc’s head down onto thechariot floor with his great strength, thenswung his sword across and throughBelzoc’s neck in one clean thrust, severinghis head from his body. Thick black bloodspurted up in twin fountains.

‘Till the great judgement!’ Michaelkicked the body off his chariot onto thesand. Belzoc’s head vanished. Then hisbody followed, disappearing straight tothe Abyss.

‘The Messiah’s kingdom come,’Michael cried, saluting grimly at Raphaeloverhead.

* * *Jether hovered at the cusp of theordinances of the heavens and thetreasuries of the hail, the scorchingluminous white waves of the seventh seaof wisdom churning beneath him, at thevery edge of the wake of the Universes,his silver robes billowing in the tempests,his long white hair and beard flying in therushing hail blizzards. His face wasburning in ecstasy. His veined handclasped a burning azure sapphire the sizeof a duck’s egg. In its epicentre burned afierce crimson flame – the seventh stoneof fire.

Jether reached into the folds of hisrobes and produced a silver amulet. Heopened the case, placed the stone of firewithin, and closed the clasp, then placed itaround his neck on a silver chain. Andmounting his white-winged charger, herode the colossal flashing thunderbolts ofhail towards Alexandria.

* * *Michael turned his monstrous chariotaround to follow the disappearing caravanthat held the infant king, then looked backto the West. Stampeding straight towardsMichael on their headless wingedchargers rode the legions of the sinisterNecromancer Warlock Kings of the East,followed by their vast armies of livingskeletons. These were the foulest, most

depraved and feared of all Lucifer’sarmies, their sorceries vile and potent.This he well knew. And he was trapped intheir pathway.

He glimpsed Gabriel out of the cornerof his eye, racing towards him from theleft through the skies, with a hundredlegions of archers. The only way todestroy a Necromancer King’s power waswith a silvered arrow drenched in sacredointment from the censer on the white altarof the labyrinth’s sixth spire, sent straightthrough the heart. This Michael also knew.

‘We shall eat you alive, PrinceMichael!’ cried Nakan, iniquitousWarlock King of the East, as his headlesscharger raced alongside Michael’sthundering chariot. Michael felt a sharppain and clutched his wrist. A tiny silver

barb had penetrated the skin. He stared atit in dread: Necromancer poison. ‘First, Ishall peel the skin from your torso,’ Nakanhissed, his foul oiled tones reverberatingstrangely in Michael’s head as his demonmagic began to take effect. Michaelgrasped for the poisoned barb, flailing atit clumsily. ‘Then I shall sip your thick,glutinous blue blood from my goblet.’

Nakan held a golden goblet high in hisleft hand. Sweat poured from Michael’stemple down his cheeks, his eyelids grewheavy ... far too heavy. Nakan smiled aslow evil smile. ‘Once your eyelids close,Michael my pretty,’ he hissed, ‘you haveonly five seconds before the Abyss.’

There was a sudden dull thud. Nakanstared down at his chest in disbelief; asecond later, his head turned to green

vapour before Michael’s eyes. A thousandmore arrows found their marks among thehorrified Necromancer company.

Gabriel thundered through the skiestowards the chariot, his gaze locked on thefast weakening Michael, now collapsed,his head flung down on the chariot floor.Gabriel’s huge seraph wings billowedbehind him as he rose through the skiesand landed directly in Michael’s chariot.He wrenched Michael’s head from thechariot floor, just as Michael’s eyelidsclosed heavily.

Gabriel grasped for the tiny steel barbin Michael’s wrist and pulled it from hisflesh, deliberately forcing Michael’seyelids open with his free hand. Instantly,the effects of Nakan’s demon magicstarted to drain from Michael’s limbs.

Gabriel exhaled in relief, gently pushingthe thick blond hair matted with sweataway from Michael’s temple. Therecovering Michael grinned sheepishlyand saluted feebly from the chariot floor.‘Close shave!’ he mouthed, then he staredfrowning beyond Gabriel.

Gabriel turned to follow Michael’sgaze. Rakkon, Jatir and Obadiah led by anexhilarated Xacheriel on his flying whitecharger, were launching hundreds of flyingiron cannonballs towards Hera and theflying demon witches. Directly behind theyounglings a pack of drooling demonwerewolves headed straight for thedramatically gesticulating Xacheriel.Xacheriel, blissfully unaware of theimpending danger, was lambasting Jatir onhis erroneous co-ordinate calculations.

Gabriel saluted to Michael, then thunderedback into the skies towards the ancientelder. Michael staggered to his feet,clasping the stallion’s reins. He glancedback to see the vast company of the BlackHorde led by Dagon thundering on thehorizon towards Raphael and Uriel’sbattalions. He swiftly loosed his leadcharger from the chariot and jumpedastride its back, then thundered across thedesert after the disappearing caravan.

Then Michael’s blood ran cold, for hesensed a terrible evil, a malevolentpresence. He turned.

There, only three lengths behind,stampeding towards him astride hismonstrous winged stallion, hisbroadsword lifted high, his six blackseraph wings extended, raced the king of

hell himself. Lucifer ... escorted by thethirteen Warlock Kings of the West.

Chapter Ten

Alexandria

The caravan travelled across thesweltering desert plains, the ancientgranite walls of the Monastery ofArchangels becoming visible far in thedistance on the horizon. The walls werethirty-five metres tall and three metresthick, carved from the huge mountainbehind the monastery fortress.

Mary gazed up towards the formidablestone monastery, then lookedquestioningly across at Aretas, whosmiled gently. ‘The Monastery ofArchangels,’ he said.

‘He will be safe there.’* * *

Michael and Lucifer raced bareback ontheir stallions, thundering neck and neckacross the desert. Overhead flew thethirteen Warlock Kings of the West,astride their monstrous dark wingedLeviathan racing towards the Monasteryof Archangels.

‘I shall yet see you to the AbyssMichael, my brother.’ Lucifer drove hisrapier savagely into Michael’s woundedthigh tearing the wound freshly open.Michael clasped at his leg in agony,incensed, the blood spurting over his palmgushing down his thigh.

‘But I have come for a greater prizethan Michael. I come for the supreme

trophy...’ Lucifer spat. Michael graspedfor his bayonet with his free hand.

‘Your supreme trophy awaits you,brother...’ Michael thrust the bayonetbrutally straight towards Lucifer’s rightshoulder. ‘In the Lake of Fire!’ Michaelcried. The bayonet found its mark, rippingLucifer’s flesh savagely. Lucifer eruptedwith an agonized roar. He glared atMichael venomously, then raised hisjavelin with his left hand. With one lastdesperate thrust, he savagely rippedMichael’s leg from thigh to knee, sendinghim hurtling violently onto the desertsands.

A sadistic smile of triumph spreadacross Lucifer’s face as he thundered pasthis maimed brother, catching up to theWarlock Kings. Michael pulled himself to

his knees, blood pouring onto the sand,then staggered in agony to his feet andremounted his stallion. In the distance, hecould see the caravan already drawing upoutside the monastery gates.

* * *The caravan drew up outside theformidable black iron gates of theMonastery of Archangels. At the crest ofthe gateway, a sign was engraved in goldArabic script. The towering gates slowlyswung open revealing ten priests of theancient caste of the Archangels, dressed insimple cassocks who stood at theentrance. The great caravan began its entrythrough the towering iron gates.

Jether turned to face the desert.Lucifer and his stallion were thundering

towards Jether over the desert sands.Above him, the thirteen dread WarlockKings of the West raced through the skies,their long black capes billowing, theirpale green parchment like skin and hookednoses visible underneath their crimsonhoods, as they rode their monstrous scaleddark-winged Leviathan. Searing crimsonflames erupted from the monsters’enormous jaws as their powerful blackwebbed seraphim wings beat the air in afrenzy.

Jether strode over to Mary, her attentionriveted on the babe nestled in her arms.He lifted the infant from Mary, nevertaking his eyes off Lucifer and theapproaching Warlock Kings. Removingthe silver amulet from under his robe, heunclasped it, revealing the seventh stone.

Deliberately, he raised it high in thedirection of the oncoming Leviathan.

Fierce crimson lightnings forked fromthe stone towards the mammoth wingedmonsters, striking their flaming yelloweyes. The pack of Leviathan screamed inunison, a blood chilling eerie high-pitchedscreaming. Seething black smoke spewedfrom their nostrils, then one by one, thecreatures plummeted like lead to theground, hurling the Warlock Kingsviolently onto the desert sands.

‘No-o-o-o!’ Lucifer roared, lashing hisstallion savagely with his razored cat-o’-nine-tails, drawing blood. The stallionextended its black wings, soaring into theskies over the great palms on the road tothe monastery, directly towards Jether.

Jether removed the stone of fire from

the amulet, his eyes, hard as iron, neverleaving Lucifer. The blue stone glistened,the crimson flickering fire at its centreblazing fiercely through the sapphire.

‘The seal!’ Lucifer screamed, thrustinghis barbed spurs deep into his stallion’sflanks.

Jether made a strange mark of a crosson the baby’s forehead with the blue stoneof fire and, instantly, a blazingincandescent lightning radiated from thesapphire onto the infant’s forehead. Thefire of Yehovah’s presence. Aretas andthe monks fell prostrate.

Then monstrous, iridescent flames aleague high leapt up, encircling themonastery walls, erupting in a ferociousfirestorm that exploded through the desertskies engulfing the armies of hell and

flinging Lucifer from his airborne steeddown onto the desert floor. Michael flewthrough the skies, watching in wonderfrom his stallion, his savage woundshealing swiftly in the consuming fire.

Lucifer lay, gasping and winded,trembling in terror, shielding his eyesfrom the torrid conflagration of light, hisskin blistering in the unrelenting,scorching inferno. The Warlock Kings’frenzied screaming mingled with thedemented cries of Lucifer’s ravaged fallenarmies, echoing through the Egyptianskies.

With a mighty shudder, the gates closed.* * *

Michael wrote at an old wooden desk inthe monastery chamber. He was clothed in

a simple white robe; his golden armourhung next to the cloister window. To hisright lay an open missive bearing theblack seal of Perdition. On it Michaelwrote, ‘Yes, He is safe. Fled to Egypt,hidden safely in her bosom. Growing instature and favour, both with Yehovah andwith man.’

He stared out through the window ontothe roof of the monastery, where the boyplayed under Mary’s watchful eye.Michael dipped the pen in the inkwell.

‘He wears the seal. You cannot touchHim, Lucifer – not until Christos placesHimself into your hands...’

* * *From the portico of the Black Palace,Lucifer gazed out at the Earth far in the

distance. He crumpled Michael’s missivein his fist.

‘No matter, Michael,’ he breathed, hiseyes gleaming with venom. ‘I will wait.’

And so Christos became one of theRace of Men.

Sealed by the seventh stone,protected from Lucifer’s unbridledwrath and Herod’s murderousschemings, he spent his days andnights sheltered under Egyptianskies in the Monastery ofArchangels in Alexandria. AndMichael and I and Jether, chief ofthe twenty-four heavenly elders,ministered to Him.

The great King of heaven.

Chapter Eleven

Monastery ofArchangels

Later – AD 1The young boy sat in the moonlit cupolaon the monastery roof, intently carving apiece of wood. His fingers still bore thesoft chubbiness of babyhood, but Hisstrokes were deft and sure. His long, darkhair curled in tendrils around His gentleface. His eyes danced, mercurial as thechanging hues of the Mediterranean.Michael and Gabriel stood on the far side

of the roof, watching as He sang softly tohimself.

‘It is almost time,’ said Michael.Gabriel nodded gravely. ‘Joseph senses

it. I meet with him at dawn.’‘Aretas will be here by morning.’

Michael watched as Jesus walked fromthe cupola to the far edge of the monasteryroof, His beautiful features bathed in themoonlight. He closed His eyes and threwHis arms up to the night sky. An unearthlylight encompassed Him and His faceshone like burnished copper.

Gabriel looked on, mesmerized. ‘Hetalks with Yehovah.’

Looking down at his feet, Michaelstared at the plane, mallet, measuring line,chalk, and several wooden carvings thatlay on the flat roof. He knelt and picked up

the beautifully carved objects one by one:a fish, a cup ... he stopped at a strange,crafted shape of a cross and stared up atGabriel, unusually overcome withemotion.

‘I have seen it in my dreamings in aeonspast,’ Gabriel bowed his head, ‘and nowagain for many nights.’

‘I have seen it also,’ Michaelwhispered. ‘After Lucifer’s banishment, Iventured to the Holy Mountain, to theseventh chamber. It was there I saw it.’He clasped the cross fiercely.

‘They will do terrible things to Him. Icannot let Him be harmed!’

Ever so gently, Gabriel pried the crossfrom his grasp; he would not let Michaellook away. ‘The penalty MUST be paid,’he said.

Michael turned angrily to see Jesuslooking at him with a terrible sorrow. Theboy closed His eyes as though greatlypained.

‘Nay, My fierce and noble Michael –stay your sword.’ The words of Christosfrom the seventh chamber from aeons pastechoed strangely in his ears.

‘There is much I must suffer still at thehands of the Race of Men. Let this onething be your comfort in the moonsahead: that these are the wounds oflove.’

Michael stood staring at the child; then,trembling, held out the wooden cross.Jesus reached out His small hand and tookit from the strong, sinewed hand of thearchangel. Michael wept.

* * *

King Aretas strode across the courtyard ofthe Monastery of Archangels, followedclosely by his royal stewards, Jotapa, andher keepers. Aretas clasped Joseph’sshoulder.

‘You have food and water to last thejourney. I have pressing matters to attend.’He nodded in the direction of themonastery. ‘I will catch up with you thisdusk and escort you to the borders ofJudea myself with my royal guard. Herodis dead, but his son Archelaus is still to bereckoned with. A safe house in Nazarethis prepared for you. The child will be safethere for a season.’

Joseph gripped Aretas’ hand. ‘We aredeeply indebted to you, Your Majesty. Tothe royal house of Aretas...’ Joseph brokeoff in mid sentence, and Aretas followed

his gaze to Jotapa and Jesus, who stoodstaring at each other with extremecuriosity.

Mary observed the children tenderlyfrom the centre of the small caravan.Jotapa curtsied, her unruly black curlsfalling across her face. The young Jesusgrinned and, with the awkward fingers ofa toddler, gently moved her hair awayfrom her eyes. Aretas watched inamusement as Jotapa giggled bashfully,then ran towards her father.

She turned to stare back impishly inJesus’ direction, then tripped over herrobe, her hand landing heavily on a sharprock that pierced straight through herpalm. Jotapa stared at the blood runningfrom the deep wound then started toscream hysterically. Aretas ran and

instantly hoisted her to his chest, the bloodfrom her palm flowing down his robes.Jesus walked towards them, grave, thenreached out His hand and gently placed itover Jotapa’s palm. Instantly the blooddried up. Aretas frowned. Jotapa instantlyquieted, staring at her palm transfixed,watching the skin growing over the wounduntil only the tiniest of scars remained.

Aretas turned her palm around,examining it in wonder. Jotapa buried herhead in his chest. Aretas shook his head,rechecked her hand, then tenderly mussedJotapa’s hair, kissed her fiercely on bothcheeks, and handed her to her keeper.Immediately the young princess started toscream, this time in a fit of temper, flailingwith her fists against the maidservant’schest. Jesus watched her, amused at her

display.Aretas stared at her sternly as her

keeper took her, still screaming, throughthe monastery doors; then he walked overto Jesus and knelt down on one knee,clasping the boy’s hand. ‘Thank You,’ hemurmured.

Jesus stood silent. Earnest.‘You will be safe now.’ Aretas looked

tenderly into Jesus’ eyes.Jesus nodded, His gaze intent on

Aretas. He felt in the folds of His tunicand brought out the perfectly carvedwooden cross. He pushed it with Hischubby fingers into Aretas’ strong brownones, then pointed to Aretas.

‘King Aretas...’ Then He pointed toHimself. ‘Jesus’ friend.’

Aretas clasped the three-year-old

tightly to his chest, his eyes closed for abrief moment, unusually overcome byemotion. Then he swooped Jesus up intothe air and sat Him directly in front ofMary on the white royal stallion. Hesignalled to Ayeshe.

‘Move!’ commanded Ayeshe, and thecaravan instantly moved as one from themonastery gates.

Slowly Jether walked over to Aretas.He placed his hand gently on Aretas’shoulder.

‘May the gods protect Him,’ murmuredAretas. He clasped the small woodencross tightly in his hand. They stood insilence watching the caravan travel acrossthe vast Egyptian desert.

Jether turned to the priests in thecourtyard. ‘Seal the Monastery gates!’ he

cried. ‘Until the time of His great return.’

And so the infant King returned toNazareth, where His boyhood wasspent in one of hundreds of whitestone flat-roofed houses that layglittering in the sunlight, nestled inthe dusty, narrow streets of the littleEastern town.

His mornings were spent at Hisfather, Joseph’s right hand,growing skilled in His vocation as acraftsmen in His carpenters trade,learning diligently as theyreconstructed houses and carvedploughs and yokes, working withstone and wood. On occasion,beside Himself with excitement, He

would accompany Joseph and Hisolder cousins walking the dustyroads back and forth to join thelabour pools in the bustling urbanmetropolis of Sepphoris, HerodAntipas’s ambitious new rebuildingproject.

But much of His boyhood wasfilled with the simple dazzling sunlitGalilean afternoons that overflowedwith the bright boyish, ringinglaughter with His little band offriends as they ran scurryingthrough the emerald fields rich withoceans of wildflowers and orangeand pomegranate blossoms.

And His nights were spent on theroof of the small stone house orwandering the silvery Galilean

hillsides under the light of theeastern stars, communing with HisFather, Yehovah.

And so the holy child grew,waxing strong in spirit, increasingin wisdom and stature and in favourwith God and with man.

Preparing His heart...Preparing His mind...Preparing His soul......Preparing for His confrontation

in the wilderness with Hisadversary, the prince of thedamned.

Chapter Twelve

Meggido

AD 4It was nearing dusk. The eight-year-oldJesus stopped to catch His breath,surveying the hills of Galilee to the northand the majestic snow-crowned MountHermon. Then He turned His gaze to thewest, where the magnificent purple MountCarmel rose, beyond which lay the fringeof silvery sand of the Great Sea.

To the east lay Tabor and the unendingstring of exotic caravans from Arabia,Africa and India, wending their way along

the bustling eastern spice trade routes thatlinked Egypt with Syria.

But it was the great plain to the souththat commanded the young boy’s fullattention.

He clambered over the stones, up therocky slopes of the Nazareth Ridge, Hiseyes filled with an ardent fervour,oblivious to the carpet of richly colouredflowers and sharp stones under His feet,His attention riveted on the monstrousmagnificent valley that sprawled beforeHim.

Finally He stopped, gasping for breath,having reached the summit of the easternslope, the soft breezes ruffling His long,dark curls, His bare feet sinking into thethyme and mountain flowers beneath Him.Staring.

Staring at the Great Battlefield of Israel... Esdraelon, the Valley of Jezreel.Armageddon.

Far away in the distance, across thefertile valley, stood two imperial figures:Michael and Gabriel.

‘He sees the future,’ Gabrielwhispered. ‘The final war...’

‘Armageddon.’Jesus stared at the great plains before

Him, now filled with a vast multitude,every nation represented in the violent,bloody panaroma before them: Chinese,Arab, European, American, African,Australian soldiers, their bloodthirstycries of battle mingling with agonizedscreams of the dying. The Prince of Peacewatched, pale and silent, as the Son ofPerdition and the great kings of the earth

gathered with their armies, a great andterrible multitude two hundred millionstrong ... waiting...

Huge hailstones fell from the skies ontothe terrorized militia. The colossalteutonic plates of the earth shifted and themountains shuddered as their foundationscollapsed, levelling them – the Alps,Himalayas, Andes, all melting like wax. Athousand great and terrible whirlwindsrose from the south, merging with thecolossal frenzied eyes of force fivehurricanes, raging from the East and WestCoasts of North America. Monsoonsseethed from the Far East. Tsunamiserupted from ferocious seas, and now themoon turned to blood in the sky.

And then, as He viewed the 200 millionman army before him, He saw men’s flesh

literally rotting away as they stood,soldiers’ eyes disintegrating in theirsockets, their tongues melting in theirmouths as the valley of Jezreel becamelike a winepress, blood rising up to thehorses’ bridles.

Jesus bowed His head.Instantly the horrific scene before them

vanished, and Michael and Gabriel weregone.

Jesus held His head in His hands,breathing rapidly in shallow gasps, thenlifted His face and gazed once more at thenow tranquil, fertile emerald plains of thevalley.

‘In the latter time He has made itglorious, by the way of the sea, beyond theJordan, Galilee of the nations,’ Hewhispered. ‘The people who walked in

darkness have seen a great light...’He stared up at the cloudless blue skies,

at the lines of pink-backed pelicans andyellow-billed storks as they flutteredoverhead, winging their way to the Lakeof Galilee.

A strange aroma of frankincense filledthe air. Jesus turned.

There, just paces away from Him on theeastern summit, stood Lucifer, studying theeight-year-old boy ... his adversary.

‘Why are you on my planet, Nazarene?’His voice was soft but his blazing blueeyes were filled with loathing. He movedcloser to Jesus. ‘What is it You want?’His voice was low, mesmerizing. Hecircled the boy.

‘When the seal of the seventh stone islifted, You shall know my vengeance.’ A

slight smile played on Lucifer’s lips. ‘Youshall indeed suffer, Nazarene – away fromHim.’ Then he was gone.

Nothing stirred, just the soft gusts ofmountain air that blew Jesus’ locks, andthe faint aroma of frankincense that stilllingered on the breeze.

Chapter Thirteen

The Gathering

Twenty-two Years LaterJether stood on the high place of theTower of Winds, the retreat of the ancientones and Yehovah’s trusted elders, whoformed the high council of heaven. Hisfuchsia ceremonial robes blew in the blueangelic tempests. His crowned head wasbowed, and his lips moved fervently insupplication.

Michael and Gabriel strode through thelush gardens towards him, followed justpaces behind by Obadiah, Tirzah, and

seven other younglings, who carried pilesof tomes and piled them on the large,circular golden table surrounded bytwelve jacinth thrones.

‘His request for access has beengranted?’ Gabriel laid his sword downagainst the battlements.

Jether nodded. ‘The codices of theWhite Judgement require the presence ofLucifer to witness the reading of the tenetspertaining to Jesus of Nazareth. Yehovahhas granted Lucifer entrance to the FirstHeaven for this gathering. Eternal Lawcannot be revoked.’

Jether moved to the golden table, wherethe angelic zephyrs of wisdom andrevelation raged in eternal cyclones, thensat down heavily on one of the jacinththrones. The zephyrs immediately

subsided to a gentle breeze. ‘Theconditions set by the codices of the WhiteJudgement affect Christos’ time span onearth. They must be witnessed by allangelic parties, ourselves and our fallencompatriots alike...’

Jether broke off in mid sentence, hisgaze suddenly locked on to a silver speckflying over the rainbows that archedmajestically over the Seas of Zamar.

Gabriel moved to the battlements andstared out over the pearl sands. ‘It is hischariot.’

Jether nodded somberly, his eyes neveronce straying from the silver speck.

Michael frowned. ‘Surely he has notbeen granted access to the entire planet ofthe First Heaven?’

Jether shook his head. ‘No. He is

confined to the Tower of Winds during hisstay, but nonetheless we must prepare ourminds...’ He turned to fix his gaze onMichael and Gabriel. ‘...and our souls. Heis on holy ground here. He will appear inhis former state. Remember, he suffers noill effects from Yehovah’s presence herewhen he has been summoned by YehovahHimself to fulfil Eternal Law.’

Jether stared at the brothers grimly.‘This day, he will be as breathtaking aswhen he was prince regent, his thronesecond only to Yehovah’s. His soul, too,will seem to take on his previous beauty.Never forget, my princes, it is merely amask, no more than a shortlived façade.His sorceries are deep-rooted.’

Far in the distance, the thundering grewlouder as Lucifer’s magnificent chariot

became visible through the rainbow’saurora, riding on the shafts of lightning,pulled by eight of his finest wingedstallions, their glistening white manesinterwoven with platinum.

The chariot landed on the grand lawnsof the high place of the Tower of Winds,its huge platinum wheels ploughingthrough the manicured lawns, churning updeep, unsightly furrows in the turf.Instantly the grass grew back, covering theenormous chariot tracks.

Lucifer alighted from the chariot. Heknelt next to one of the enormous wheels,his eyes ablaze with wonder as hecaressed the lush new blades of grass withhis long fingers. He shook his head infascination, seemingly mesmerized by theswelling, budding blades.

Michael stood, his arms folded,watching Lucifer intently.

‘Heaven!’ Lucifer declared. ‘Nodecomposition ... no decay...’ He rose tohis full nine feet. ‘No death!’ He swungaround giving Michael the full intensity ofhis gaze. ‘Why, Michael, what wonders Ihave missed in my own atrophied planet!’He smiled his old magnificent smile.

Michael studied him, against his ownbetter judgement. At their last meetingLucifer’s features had been gnarled andscarred, but today, as in times of old, hewas perfect in his beauty: the wideforehead and straight patrician nose, thewide-set, haunting azure eyes andpassionate, full mouth. He was assplendid as before his banishment.Imperial. His presence compelling.

Michael lowered his eyes from hisbrother’s gaze. For he well knew thatLucifer read his soul.

‘Why, Michael, it is all as it used tobe!’ Lucifer smiled. A soft, indulgentsmile. ‘Nothing has changed.’

‘Everything has changed, Lucifer,’Michael retorted.

Lucifer threw back his head andlaughed loudly. His laughter rang throughthe gardens as he walked towardsMichael.

‘No, Michael, nothing has changed, foryou are still solemn.’ He clasped Michaelin a warm embrace, kissing him on bothcheeks. Michael stood coldly, thenstepped back.

‘And Gabriel...’ Lucifer studied hisyoungest brother, then walked over to the

sapphire fountains, the water cascadingdown as glistening blue mercury. He heldout a goblet to catch the elixir. ‘Ah,’ hesipped delicately. ‘Frankincense andwhitecurrant!’ He turned to Gabriel andsmiled his old magnificent smile.

‘You are still vexed with me?’ Gabriellowered his eyes from Lucifer’s magneticgaze. ‘You know my thoughts, Lucifer.They do not change, no matter what guiseyou choose to take today. Your outwardbeauty does not reach to your soul.’

Lucifer winced mockingly. ‘Ah, toomuch time with Michael has made yousolemn, too.’ He plucked a silveredsweetmeat from the great, spreading treehung with thousands of white blossomsand delicacies, and popped it in hismouth, savouring it. ‘Strawberry and

persimmon.’ He closed his eyes inrapture. ‘With a hint of curds!’

Lucifer breathed in the invigoratingaromas of the myrrh and frangipani thatswirled in the gusts over his head. ‘Jetherthe Just...’ he murmured. For a splitsecond, his eyes hardened. ‘My oldmentor, who taught me all I know ofYehovah and His mysteries...’ Jetherglimpsed the fleeting venom behind hisdazzling smile, but then the venom wasgone.

‘I brought an old friend, so you couldreflect together on aeons past.’

Lucifer gestured in the direction of awhite albatross who perched on Lucifer’schariot. ‘Your bosom companion, onewho used to occupy these very thrones.’

The albatross transformed into a tall,

thin figure with white hair who walkedtowards them. Jether stepped back.Appalled. Charsoc stood, tall and regal, inthe splendour he once possessed in hisformer state as ancient imperial monarch.His hair was now as white as Jether’sown; his white beard swept the floor, andhis once blind eyes were now the samepale grey-blue as Jether’s – and seeing.

Michael grasped Jether’s arm tostrengthen him.

‘You have no place with us here.’Jether stood between Charsoc and thegolden table. ‘You forfeited your place atthis table in worlds long departed.’ Hiseyes blazed with indignation.

Lucifer grasped Jether’s shoulder;Jether flinched.

‘Oh, but you see, venerated Jether, He

shall be at this table.’ Lucifer’s fingersdug into Jether’s shoulder. ‘He is to be mywitness. It is the prerequisite of EternalLaw. Today I discover why Christostrespasses on my planet!’

Jether, his face turned to stone, took histhrone; Michael took the right-hand throne,Gabriel the left. Lucifer sat on the throneopposite Jether, with Charsoc at his right.Lamaliel entered the garden, followed byMethuselah and Zebulon, Issachar, Maheeland Jehosaphat.

All took their places at the table, as apanting Xacheriel, still with his violetlaboratory galoshes, followed at the rear.He sat down heavily on the only remainingthrone next to Charsoc. In front of him laya lone crown. Jether nodded and gesturedto Xacheriel’s head. Xacheriel scowled,

then grudgingly removing his orangesou’wester and replaced it with the jacinthcrown. He folded the sou’wester carefullyin half, then placed it in front of him.

Charsoc scrutinized the sou’westerdistastefully, then carefully opened anenormous crimson carpet bag with itsmother-of-pearl handles.

‘You brought your knitting?’ Xacherielgave Charsoc the full force of his darkestglare from under his knitted eyebrows.‘Or do you return the sixth stone whichyou stole from us?’ he snapped. Jethershook his head darkly in Xacheriel’sdirection.

Charsoc smiled languidly, thenremoved a small gold container which heplaced on the table. He opened the lid,dipping his long fingers in the clear liquid,

then ran them deftly through his hair andbeard, inhaling deeply in ecstacy.

Xacheriel sniffed loudly in Charsoc’sdirection. ‘Mandragora...,’ he mutteredtestily, glaring at Charsoc, wiping hissuddenly streaming red eyes. He sneezeddeafeningly into his handkerchief, thenleaned over and snapped Charsoc’scontainer shut heavily.

‘We address pressing matters.’ Jether’stone was brisk. ‘Time is misspent oncoiffures, Charsoc.’

Charsoc turned his gaze to Xacheriel,slowly and deliberately scrutinizing theHigh elder. His gaze moved fromXacheriel’s curd-stained apron, past hisblueberry splattered beard to hisuncombed, knotted, wiry silver hairvisible under his crown.

‘I think not.’ He gave Xacheriel apurposeful, slow, patronising smile, thenpulled on a pair of soft white goatskingloves and sat, his hands entwined.

Xacheriel spluttered, infuriated.‘Compatriots ... compatriots.’ Jether

raised his hands. ‘Restraint, please.’ Herose, clearing his throat.

‘I bid you welcome, Chief PrinceMichael, commander-in-chief of thearmies of the First Heaven, Chief PrinceGabriel, Lord chief justice of the angelicrevelators. Lucifer, ruler of the Race ofMen, Earth, and the nether regions, king ofPerdition. Charsoc, chief magus andapostle of the fallen. My esteemed Eldersof Yehovah’s High Council.’

Lucifer stood. ‘First, I must beassured...’ He walked slowly around the

table, stopping directly behind Gabriel.‘My claim stands in the Courts of EternalLaw, does it not, Gabriel?’ He laid hishand heavily on Gabriel’s shoulder.

Gabriel sighed. ‘Your claim against theRace of Men was received and recordedin the courts of heaven. Judgement wasduly passed against the Race of Men.’

Michael stared at Lucifer sceptically.‘This you well know, Lucifer.’

Jether opened a tome. ‘I paraphrasefrom one of our earlier recordedgatherings.’ He picked up one of the tomesof Eternal Law, his nimble fingers rifledthrough the pages. ‘A claim was lodgedagainst mankind in the courts of heaven byLucifer, sovereign ruler of the Race ofMen. The aforesaid Lucifer placed theRace of Men on trial. Records from the

archives of Perdition were as a resultmeticulously scrutinized and crossreferenced with the Records of the Raceof Men registered in the codices of theFirst Heaven. Every generation of Homosapiens from the time of Eden wasinvestigated. It has been proven beyondreasonable doubt that the Race of Men haspersistently and without penitencecommitted desertion and has transgressedEternal Law. Yehovah cannot judgeLucifer and his fallen angelic host and notmete out the same judgement to the Raceof Men. Their transgressions are identical.Both Lucifer and the Race of Men weregranted free will. Both Lucifer and theRace of Men have transgressed againstYehovah and Eternal Law as an act oftheir own volition. Judgement was duly

passed.’Lucifer nodded. ‘Excellent, Jether.

Your records are meticulous.’He raised his hands in exhiliration.

‘Every man’s soul is mine – to be with mein hell and the grave and in Tartarus. Andwhen my judgement comes, they will burnwith me in the Lake of Fire!’

‘Yes.’ Michael glared at Luciferfiercely. ‘The Race of Men will shareyour fate.’

‘There is no remittance,’ Charsoc saidemphatically.

Jether pursed his lips. ‘We have beenthrough this, time and time again.’

Lucifer held up his hand. ‘We must beassured.’

‘There is no remittance,’ Gabriel saidsoftly. ‘Only one with undefiled blood can

pay the penalty.’ Gabriel opened a secondtome.

‘Conditions of the Race of Men to paythe penalty of judgement according to thetenets of Eternal Law: the life of the soulof the Race of Men is in the blood, aspertaining to the constituents of matter.Therefore without the shedding ofundefiled blood, no remission ofjudgement exists for the Race of Men.’

‘Undefiled blood...’ Lucifer murmured.‘Tenet 7728891977 of the Code of

Eternal Law.’ Jether passed his palm overa second tome, and bluish lightning arcedfrom his palm through the pages of thecodex. The modulated voice narrated:

‘If one undefiled from the Race of Menis willing to shed his lifeblood on behalfof the Race of Men and become a

substitute for judgement, the said Race ofMen, its past, present, and futuregenerations, will be released from eternaljudgement by the death of that one. Oneundefiled soul can be exchanged for thesouls of the Race of Men. This is bindingEternal Law.’

‘Humour me. Read the definition of“undefiled”, brother.’ Lucifer studiedGabriel’s face intently as he read.

‘Definition of “undefiled” as pertainingto the Race of Men, as laid down byEternal Law,’ Gabriel declared. ‘Thesubstitute’s blood must be pure anduntainted from the mutation of the fall ofman.’

‘Ah – the Nazarene’s blood.’ Lucifer’seyes moved from Michael to Gabriel,stopping finally on Jether, where they

lingered.‘...Yehovah would not think to use the

Nazarene as a substitute, Jether?’The whole table fell silent.Lucifer moved from Gabriel to Jether.

‘I have studied the Nazarene’s conceptionintimately. Yehovah cannot banish myangelic generals to Tartarus for leavingtheir first estate and cohabiting with theRace of Men and then seek to breach hisown Eternal Law by fertilizing theChristos egg.’ Lucifer looked down atJether. ‘Is this not so, Jether?’

Jether stared ahead, silent for a longmoment. Finally he spoke softly. ‘Youspeak truly. Yehovah cannot breach Hisown Eternal Law.’ Charsoc smiledtriumphantly at the still sneezingXacheriel, who glared at him darkly.

Lucifer smiled a slow evil smile.‘Therefore the egg had to be fertilized byseed from the Race of Men ... from thefather, Joseph, to enable its conceptionand replication. The Nazarene’s blood isdefiled by inherent sin damage; He doesnot qualify.’ His gaze locked greedily onthe great lapis lazuli codex, bound in gold,its pages blazing with a fierce blue fire.‘Forget the bloodlines!’

Lucifer raised his arms to the heavens.‘Long and impatiently have I waited to

discover the reason for His intrusion onmy planet!’

‘And now your wait comes to an end.’Jether stood. ‘His objective on the planetearth reads simply thus: To proclaim thekingdom of the First Heaven to the Raceof Men.’

Lucifer stared at Jether inbewilderment, taken aback.

‘That is it?’Jether stared at Lucifer grimly. Lucifer

ran his fingers through his long unbraidedlocks, mystified.

‘That is it.’ Jether repeated, his voicehard.

Lucifer surveyed the table, examininghis brothers’ faces. Uneasy.

‘He exchanges deity, immortality,divine Kingship ... for wooden tables andsaws in a dusty hovel?’

Jether continued his silent staring.‘We have much sway in the Race of

Men, sire,’ Charsoc said, slowlyremoving his soft white goatskin gloves,methodically finger by finger. ‘They willgive no heed to a carpenter from

Nazareth...’He threw his gloves down on the table

in disdain.Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. ‘You were

shortsighted before, Charsoc, to our ruin.’He rose. ‘I am not so easily persuaded.’He circled the table. ‘They will take noheed of a carpenter ... unless’ he swungaround to Jether, ‘unless the carpenter isnot a carpenter – but a sorcerer – amiracle maker!’

He leant over Jether until his face wasonly inches from Jether’s own.

‘He has no right to use His supernaturalpowers on my planet,’ he whispered. ‘Heis a trespasser.’

‘His status changes if He passes thetest.’

‘Test! What test?’ snarled Lucifer. ‘Ah!

– Now we unveil Yehovah’s schemingstrategy.’

‘The test of obedience to Yehovah. Thetest you put before the first stewards of theRace of Man, namely one Adam and Eve.Eternal Law cannot be broken.’ Jether sat,leaning back in his throne.

‘The Nazarene turns thirty not manymoons from now. The day the seal islifted, He will face you as Eve did inearth’s Eden, in worlds long departed.That is why we are here.’

‘A second Eden,’ Charsoc murmured inwonder. ‘It is expedient for us, master.’

Lucifer walked over to the battlements.His long raven hair blew violently acrosshis face, his ermine cloak flew in theraging tempests at the edge of the Tower.

‘A second Eden.’ He stared far into the

distance, over the Eastern plains of Edento the Hanging Gardens where the twomassive trees of Life stood, their fruitglistening gold in the lightning, almostwholly enveloped by swirling whitemists. ‘How fortuitous.’ His gaze movedto the north of the two trees where thecolossal golden, ruby-encrusted door wasembedded into the jacinth walls of theTower.

‘–but fortuitous for who?’ He stared atthe Rubied Door, his expression dark.

‘What does the carpenter gain if hepasses my test?’ he whispered, his back toJether.

‘He secures the right to proclaim theKingdom of the First Heaven on yourplanet – no longer a trespasser.’

‘And what of His powers?’

‘If He passes the test, His access to thesupernatural powers of the First Heaven issecured. But He will make use of them asone of the Race of Men.’

‘Aha! It is as I presumed – He wouldentice them with His sorceries,’ Lucifersaid as he turned from the battlements.‘And if He fails?’

‘He suffers the same fate as Adam. Hebecomes your subject. One of the Race ofMen under your control.’ Jether gesturedto Lucifer’s sceptre lain on the table. ‘Youwill be His King.’

Lucifer stared at Michael, a wicked firein his eyes.

‘I am gratified I attended our little tête-à-tête, Michael. I am surely notdisappointed.’ He turned to Jether, asking,‘And when is our contest to be?’

‘When the Nazarene reaches the age ofthirty years, as counted in the Race ofMen. In but a few moons, the seal of theseventh stone will be lifted. He will faceyou as one of the Race of Men,’ Jetherreplied.

Lucifer nodded, a peculiar smileflickering on his lips.

‘And the terms of the Nazarene’sresidency rights,’ Lucifer’s eyesnarrowed, ‘on my territory, Earth?’

He walked over to the table and satback down on his throne.

‘They are laid out in the WhiteJudgements.’ Jether opened the codex.

‘Christos will be known in thefollowing residency document as Jesus ofNazareth – the Nazarene, one of the Raceof Men. At the age of thirty, as

predetermined by the Race of Men,Yehovah’s protection – the seal of theseventh stone will be lifted. Jesus ofNazareth is bound by Eternal Law toconfront the ultimate challenge ofobedience as did the first steward of theplanet earth, Adam – as one of the Race ofMen. The testing must be conducted inexact like manner to that previouslyencountered by the aforesaid Adam andEve. A test of obedience. To Yehovah orto yourself as Sovereign of the Race ofMen.’

Jether nodded to Gabriel.‘As ruler of the Race of Men, you may

lay before Him three separate temptationsof your creation,’ said Gabriel. ‘If Heovercomes these temptations, He securesthe right to proclaim the kingdom of the

First Heaven among the Race of Men.’Lucifer leaned back, studying Gabriel

in enjoyment.‘If He fails even one of your tests,

according to Eternal Law,’ Gabrielcontinued, ‘He becomes your subject andforfeits His right to proclaim the kingdomof heaven among the Race of Men. If Hefails...’

‘If the Nazarene fails...’ Luciferechoed Gabriel’s words, toying idly withhis sceptre. ‘If He fails ... He will spendthe rest of His life in obscurity inNazareth, making tables for old, fatwomen in dusty marketplaces.’

Michael glared at the smirking Lucifer.‘The contest will be between the two

contenders,’ continued Gabriel quietly,deliberately ignoring Lucifer’s comment.

‘According to Eternal Law, the temptermust be the self-same one who causedman’s demise in the first place.’ Gabrielclosed the tome. ‘Lucifer contended withAdam and Eve; Lucifer will contend withthe man Jesus. The contest shall take placein the land of Jesus of Nazareth’s origin.The only ones present shall be the twocontenders. Christos in His present formas one of the Race of Men – Jesus ofNazareth, and Lucifer, present ruler of theaforesaid Race of Men.’

‘So – if the Nazarene obeys even justone of my commands, He is mine!’ Lucifersnarled. He stood, suddenly bored withthe proceedings. ‘I have demands! He is tofast all sustenance. For forty days. Beforethe contest.’

Jether nodded. ‘Your demands will be

duly noted by Eternal Law.’Lucifer strode towards his chariot, his

beautiful features starting to mar. ‘I awaitthe contest eagerly.’ He lashed hisstallions. ‘The Nazarene shall rue the dayHe was born on my planet!’ he cried, thenrode high into the shimmering skies of theFirst Heaven towards Perdition.

Jether stood and smoothed his robes.Grim.

‘The gathering is closed. Let usprepare. I will stay and close the tomes.’

Chapter Fourteen

AD 26

Aretas, still noble and regal, his once jetblack hair now greying, was in his sixty-eighth year. ‘Aretas, Lover of his People’was the name affectionately given him byhis subjects. He gazed out upon the vastexpanse of Arabian desert, far beyond hisformal pavilions and ornamental palacegardens. Then he flung open the porticowindows, inhaling the heady perfumes ofNabatean spices. The Nabateans wereexceptionally skilled traders, conducting aflourishing commerce between China,India, the Far East, Egypt, Syria, Greece

and Rome. Petra now had a profitabletrade with the seaports in frankincense,myrrh and spices, as well as trade withEgypt in bitumen from the Dead Sea, andthe silk trade with China. From its originsas a fortress city, Petra had become awealthy commercial crossroads betweenthe Arabian, Assyrian, Egyptian, Greek,and Roman cultures, controlling the routesnot only eastward from Petra across theNegev to Gaza, but also northward up theKing’s Highway to the outskirts ofDamascus.

Over the past thirty years, Aretas hadpoured his life out as supreme monarch ofArabia, and his people had reached theheight of their economic and culturaldevelopment. He had built new towns andimproved old ones, constructed irrigation

systems, and expanded the agriculturalbase. And the status accorded Nabateanwomen had been the fodder of Arabianmarketplace gossip these past ten years,much to Aretas’ amusement. Their womennot only now inherited property but couldbuy and sell it in their own right. Jotapawould be proud, as would her gracious,long-departed mother, his beloved queen,who had died in childbirth. He smiled,well satisfied. He had ruled his noblepeople with devotion. With might andwith justice.

He smoothed his robes. But this dusk,his attire was simple. A tunic of a palelilac silk covered his loins, rather than therich deep-purple silks of his formal royalgarments. He was determined. Tonight hewould lay aside his station as Aretas the

king, and for one fleeting evening hewould be simply Aretas the man.

His entire royal household was alreadyen route with the festival tents to hissummer encampment at the Gulf of Aqaba,and at this very moment his manservantwas saddling his favoured stallion,Aswad. He would ride as he had when hewas very young – so young that his facehad been hairless and smooth. He wouldride the desert paths that he had riddenwith his father decades before, across thewhite sands to the Gulf of Aqaba, itscrystal-clear waters fringed by the lappingwhite palm sands.

He would relish the sensation of thewarm water lapping against his skin as thesteady northerly breezes from the NegevDesert fanned him.

There was a soft knock at his chamberdoor, and Malichus, his cupbearer,entered. He held out a scroll.

Aretas smiled. A missive from Jotapa!‘Thank you, Malichus. Inform Yohannathat I am ready.’

Malichus bowed in reverence as hebacked away and closed the chamberdoor.

Aretas tore open the missive andstudied the contents, imagining Jotapa’sspontaneous, abandoned laughter and hersoft voice.

...My husband, though a hard man – like allkings, surely! – treats me with grace. Yes, all iswell here in Judaea – except, of course, foryour absence, dearest Papa ... But when I amlonely my soul is comforted by the gardens ofthe princes; they bring me close to you, and toArabia...

Like yourself, I hear many stories of theHebrew here in Tiberias, Papa. There arerumours inside the palace walls that His feettread these shores. I shall make discreetinquiries of the Hebrew’s whereabouts.

Aretas folded the letter carefully. Helooked down at the beautifully carvedwooden cross on his desk. How long hadit been since he last saw the infant King?He cast his mind back to the gruellingjourney from the monastery in Alexandriaback to Judaea. He had ridden for daysacross the desert, escorting the child andhis parents to the borders of Judaea. Hevividly remembered how the three-year-old had insisted that he keep the cross –had thrust it with His small, chubbyfingers into his palm and closed Aretas’strong, brown fingers over it. And indeedit had comforted Aretas. There were times

when he felt that it had a strange power.He shook his head.

Over twenty-seven full years hadpassed, and he had never seen the infantking again. But his spies came onoccasion, filled with wild, unsubstantiatedtales of the Hebrew’s eloquent, earnestsoliloquies and fierce, courageousconfrontations with those Jews theHebrews called Pharisees. Aretas laughedat the thought of those pampered religiousexploiters of the commoners, with theirsoft, lily-white hands. Aretas wascomforted. The Hebrew was discerning.Aretas would ask Jotapa in his nextmissive to keep an eye on his compatriotKing – his friend.

Aretas laughed out loud. An Arabianking and the Hebrew. He caressed the

cross and laid it gently back down on hisdesk.

He raised his hands to his head andunbraided his long, curly hair from itsribbons, picked up a spear from hiscollection, placed it over one shoulderand strode through the portico doors.Aswad stood patiently tethered in theGarden of Kings. The stallion’s chest wasbroad, his back was short but strong andhis shoulders sloped, the source of hisimmense power. His noble head was heldhigh. Aretas lovingly stroked the silkyblack mane.

‘Aswad,’ he murmured. The stallionnuzzled him affectionately, his clear blackeyes gentle, as Yohanna, the royal saddler,released the tether.

Aretas hesitated, then took a step back,

his gaze moving far upward towards theeastern chambers of the golden-roofedroyal palace. A solitary lantern wasburning and a form stood at the window.Aretas nodded in acknowledgment. For afleeting moment his shoulders slumped,and a terrible weariness clouded hiscountenance.

‘Malichus,’ he said, seeming suddenlyolder than his sixty-eight years, ‘tell Zahithat he is in my prayers and in my heartwhile I am gone.’

Then he mounted Aswad, leaned overand whispered in his ear. At once themagnificent black stallion sprintedforward, its black high and hollow hooveskicking up the sand as they raced like thewind past the grand pools, past the royalhunting parks, across the white desert

sands, out towards the Red Sea.* * *

Jether closed the last tome, placed thequill pen beside it and rubbed his eyeswearily. He rose from the table andwalked towards the cascading fountain.

‘So the contest hastens.’Jether froze at the sound of the

distinctive elegant tones.Charsoc smoothed his voluminous

mulberry taffeta sorcerer’s vestments andadjusted his lilac silk neckerchief withpale jewelled fingers. He stared at thecascading fountains around the lushgardens.

‘You are too self-assured, Jether, mycompatriot.’ He held out a goblet to catchthe elixir, then sipped delicately.

‘Tayberry, my favourite extract – one ofthe wonders of the First Heaven!’

‘You outstay your welcome.’‘And you underestimate the fog that this

Race of Men contends with on that muddylittle orb – Earth. It dulls their senses,Jether; it veils their souls.’ He drank theelixir down with one elegant swig.

‘It veils His soul ... the Nazarene ...thirty years, Jether,’ he whispered,circling Jether. ‘Thirty years encased inmatter, born of a woman.’ His voice wasvery soft. Compelling. ‘Birthed of the mudand dust that clouds their sense – it cloudsHis, also. Each and every dusk, Jether, thememory of Yehovah fades from theNazarene’s mind, until it becomes just adistant imprint.’

‘He will pass the test,’ Jether said

quietly. He walked alongside Charsoc ashe had done each dusk thousands of aeonspast when they used to walk – two bosomfriends engaged in intimate conversationacross the same manicured lawns.

‘The Nazarene has forgotten Yehovah.Now His soul will play to fame andrecognition ... to all that dwells in thefallow breeding ground of men’s souls.’Charsoc’s eyes glittered. ‘Do not bedeceived, Jether. This is no walkover.Lucifer is well prepared. If He obey’seven one of Lucifer’s commands – Hissoul is ours.’

Jether gazed out over the battlements tothe Sea of Zamar. ‘We do notunderestimate,’ he said softly, his back toCharsoc. ‘We well know the fight for Hissoul.’

Charsoc reached inside his robes andremoved a missive embossed with theseal of Perdition. ‘My master’s demands.An extra proviso that he wouldincorporate in the tenets.’ Jether stared athim. Sober. Waiting. ‘He would choosethe location of his contest with theNazarene.’ Charsoc held out the missiveto Jether. Jether took it and placed it in hisrobe.

‘I will deliver it to Yehovah.’Charsoc’s face was raised to the skies,

and a strange ecstasy played on hisfeatures. His eyes were wide open,drinking in the vast panorama of lilacs andvermilions that he had once loved so well.His long white hair blew loose in thetempests. For a fleeting moment, Jetherstudied him. It was almost as it had been.

Slowly Charsoc turned. ‘You pity me,Jether.’

‘I know you miss our world,’ Jethersaid softly.

‘Do not grieve for me.’ Charsoc lookedlong and hard into Jether’s weary paleblue eyes. ‘I sold my soul aeons past.’

A long serpent writhed acrossCharsoc’s legs. He reached down andgrasped the snake, which became asilvered cane with the head of a serpent.He lifted his face to Jether’s, his pale eyesexpressionless – sightless once more.‘Even I do not know what I am capableof.’

And then, just as in days of old, hevanished into the white, rushing mists.

* * *

2021Aqaba, Jordan

– Jason –The event was going brilliantly, betterthan even Julia St Cartier could haveimagined. The contemporary open-air setdesigned by her London events company,‘Lola’, had been phenomenal. Thecaterers had outdone themselves, the livesatellite connection to VOXCommunications had gone without a hitch,and any international journalist worth hisor her salt had been waiting next door inthe crowded pressroom since dusk. Shedecided to give herself a short butdesperately needed luxury of a powderroom break and walked through the

marquee, checking as she walked howmany new bottles of champagne would beneeded. She glanced over to the enormoushelipad where the Princess of Jordan hadlanded earlier. Other VIPs were nowarriving in quick succession. Suddenly herheart turned to ice. There he was –striding down the helicopter steps. Shecouldn’t mistake that stride and the severeset of his face – it was Jason De Vere.

Her heart raced. Why, he never came tothese functions! He hated them – wouldcomplain for days after being dragged toone. There must be a new merger or somespectacular opportunity for him to appear,even though it was his brother’s bigmoment. She watched as he embracedAdrian and they launched instantly intodeep conversation.

She continued walking to the powderroom, her mind all at once a fog. This wasthe first time she had seen Jason up closeand personal since their divorce thirteenmonths earlier. Maybe the leopard hadchanged his spots; maybe their split hadgiven him a new lease of life.

She pushed open the powder roomdoor, staring blankly at her reflection inthe huge, gilt-framed mirror. She felt tiredtonight – old – as old as she was – forty.‘Get a grip on yourself, girl,’ shemurmured. Why should she care? She andJason were over. He had his new life; shehad hers. Trembling, she unclasped thetravel compact and touched up hereyeliner and brows, then dabbed on a hintof clear gloss and touched up herfoundation. All age defying. She smiled.

She idly wondered if her expensivecosmetic creams actually worked. Sheclosed the compact and shook herhighlighted blond mane. Okay, into thelions’ den.

She walked out back into the marquee,fighting her way past the dance floor andthrough the growing crowd, her eyes intenton the floor. Suddenly, a pair of large,black-shoed feet barred her way.

Heart sinking, she slowly raised herhead. Jason De Vere stood in her path, hiswhisky glass already half empty, his faceflushed. He’d most likely had two since hearrived, she thought cynically. He wasstaring at her.

‘Jason ... what a surprise.’ She staredback at him, blankly.

‘Julia.’ He continued to stare at her.

Silent.Julia rubbed her neck. ‘I have to go. I’m

running...’Jason looked around them. ‘You’re

running the event. Congratulations. Pity thelawyers didn’t know that before you tookhalf my assets.’ he drawled sarcastically.

Julia glared at him. Fuming. Her deep-brown eyes flashed. Only Jason couldmake her that infuriated. Instantly. Shewalked away.

Jason grasped her arm. Hard. Hisfingers dug into her flesh.

‘Sorry ... sorry, okay? It’s been a toughday.’

Julia unclasped his hand. Incensed.‘And mine’s been tougher!’ she spat.‘Of course,’ Jason retorted mockingly.

‘Your needs always were the overriding

factor.’‘Don’t you dare.’ Julia’s voice

trembled with rage. ‘...Dare ... dare .Jason Ambrose De Vere...’ Her eyesflashed dangerously.

‘Eighteen years..., I spent eighteenyears of my life subordinating my entirelife to your needs.’

‘My needs!’ Jason slugged down theremains of his whisky. ‘You spent moretime at your high-flying New Yorkdesigner hairdresser than you did athome...’ He glowered at her. ‘Or in thebedr–’

He caught himself. Not the time to riskbeing slaughtered in cold blood, in fullview of a thousand of Adrian’s guests.She dragged him by the arm out into thekitchen galley.

‘Do you have to make a scene?’ Juliahissed.

Jason placed his whisky glass on apassing wine steward’s tray and raisedboth hands in submission. ‘Okay, okay.Fine – I was a selfish, boorish husband.It’s all my fault. Let’s try again. I’m sorry.Apology accepted?’

Julia glared darkly at him.‘I mean it, Jules, I was a terrible

husband ... I took your advice, went totherapy – they told me I had intense deeplyburied anger and resentment. Okay?’ Heraised both his hands.

‘You ... you actually went to therapy?’Julia stared up at him in amazement.Stunned.

He nodded.‘That’s remarkable.’ Her eyes

narrowed. ‘How many times did you go?’Jason tugged at the knot in his tie.

‘Once,’ he said sheepishly. Julia rolledher eyes in frustration.

Jason looked around at the festivities.‘Seriously, I’m really impressed withLulu.’

Julia glared. ‘It’s Lola,’ she snapped.‘Lola ... deeply impressed. This is great

– really great, Jules.’He reddened. He rubbed his collar,

looking like an embarrassed schoolboy.‘Lola...’ he murmured. ‘After your

mother? I’m really glad for you.’Julia’s eyes softened. He was sincere;

she knew him that well. He was truly gladfor her.

‘What brings you here?’ Her expressionsoftened slightly. ‘You hate these things.’

‘Adrian. It’s his big night. He took areal beating over Melissa’s death.’

Julia’s eyes moistened. ‘It was tragic ...and the baby.’

‘I felt his big brother should be hereand support him. I can’t stay long.’

Julia nodded.‘Humanitarian of you,’ she muttered

sarcastically. He followed her out of thekitchen back into the marquee. Jasongently took her by the arm, guiding herthrough the crowds.

‘Julia, I miss Lily. I want to see more ofher.’

Her jaw clenched. ‘Jason, this is not thetime – or the place.’

‘Well, you always said my timing wasatrocious. At least some things neverchange.’

She sighed and turned to him. ‘Jason,our daughter is crippled ... in awheelchair. It’s not as though she canspend weeks at your New York penthousewhile you’re at work. Face it, you werenever home when you had a family –what’s changed?’

‘Then let her come when Mother’s inNew York. Let her stay with Mother moreoften, and at least I can see her.’

Julia nodded. It was reasonable. Sheloved Lilian De Vere deeply. And trustedher.

‘I’ll think about it.’He nodded.‘I have to go.’ She walked away, back

towards the podium.‘Julia...,’ he called.She turned. He stood staring at her,

unable to bring himself to say what was inhis heart. She stood waiting, then turnedand walked away.

‘Damn!’ Jason made his way to the bar.‘Whisky – make it a double.’

Julia watched him, unobserved, fromthe far side of the marquee as hisexpensive minders instantaneously circledhim, guiding Jason deftly past the crowdeddancefloor towards a group of VOX’swealthy billionaire investors. Shewatched as he stopped to shake handswith a second group – Chinese ministersfrom Beijing. She could read him at aglance – he was already bored with theproceedings – making smalltalk.

He had aged. At forty-four, his thick jetblack hair was almost silver. He was wellworn although still ruggedly handsome,

his tanned face already creased withnumerous lines. And he’d lost weight. Itsuited him to be so lean, she thought. Hewas unhappy. Restless. She could sense it.She sighed. There were times when it washard to live without him, but it was farharder to live with the driving, unrelentingforce that was Jason De Vere.

She caught sight of Adrian, headingtowards the pressroom.

Tonight his face was drawn. The recentdeaths of Melissa and the baby had hit himlike a bodyblow. He looked gaunt, not hisusual charming self. He was five yearsyounger than Jason. Tall and slim.Cultured. Educated. His sense of humourwas fabulous. He was genuinely funny.And likeable.

Unlike his brother Jason, who had few

friends, thousands of enemies and was asblunt as a proverbial sledgehammer.

A tanned, manicured hand rested softlyon hers. She turned. ‘Adrian!’

He gave her his endearing, lopsidedhalf smile. ‘Hiya, sis. You’ve done usproud tonight.’ He kissed heraffectionately on both cheeks. ‘Thepredators await.’ He nodded in thedirection of the pressroom.

Julia smiled. ‘You okay?’ Shestraightened his tie, as she had done somany times before when he was homefrom boarding school at Gordonstounwhen he was just fifteen.

He nodded. ‘I’m coping.’ He saidsoftly. Julia studied the man in front ofher. Just two years younger than her, hehad matured from an awkward though

brilliant teenager into a most attractiveman. He had married young, straight afteruniversity – and well – into a top Britishpolitical family. Melissa Vane-Templarwas beautiful, elegant and brilliant,newly-qualified as a barrister. Her father,Viscount Miles Vane-Templar, Leader ofthe House of Lords, had been like a fatherto Adrian. Melissa had died four monthsago giving birth to their first son, GabrielLance, who was stillborn. Straight afterthe funeral, Adrian had furiously thrownhimself back into his work and beenalmost single-handedly responsible forcreating the most impressive andambitious peace process in the history ofthe Western world. The final accord wasto be signed next month in Damascus. And‘Lola’ was sole events co-ordinator.

Adrian kissed Julia tenderly on bothcheeks. ‘Thanks, sis. I could do with anescort.’

She turned to catch Jason glaring atthem from the bar, across the room. Why,she thought, he’s jealous.

She laughed softly, enjoying hisdiscomfort and placed her armdeliberately through Adrian’s.

Jason slammed his glass onto the bartop and strode back towards the helipad.

Julia stopped by the pressroom door,watching the big black helicopter with theDe Vere monogram on its side taking offinto the Aqaba skies, carrying Jason DeVere to Amman, no doubt to board hisGulfstream.

She sighed.

Chapter Fifteen

Betrayal – AD 27

Jotapa sang softly to herself the ancientArabian lullabies she had loved so wellwhen Aretas had sung to her as a child.She walked with a light step in herflowing white silk garments, along theimposing marbled corridors, past theJudaean king’s magnificent works of artand out into the colourful rose arbors onthe sumptuous palace grounds that led uponto the Royal pavilions. She continuedthrough gardens of exotic palms until shefinally came to a secluded ornamentalgarden with a gurgling fountain. She

placed a silver goblet under the fresh,clear running water and drank long anddeeply. She turned to stare at thebreathtaking views of the lake, drinking inthe exotic beauty of the surroundingterritory of Galilee. Today the lake was asa deep blue pool and its surface smooth asglass.

Her gleaming ebony hair, intricatelybraided with hundreds of small, finefreshwater pearls, fell past her narrowwaist. Her large eyes, blue as theMediterranean, danced in her exquisitelyfeatured face. Her slim olive-skinnedfingers were covered in diamonds andpearls – gifts from her husband ofseventeen years, Herod Antipas, tetrarchof Galilee and Perea. She wasbreathtaking – the Arabian princess.

Jotapa hesitated beside a stately palmtree. Hearing soft voices, she caught sightof her handsome, well-manicuredhusband, standing below her by the palaceportico with his chief adviser, Caspius.Jotapa beamed, about to make herpresence known.

‘A missive arrived at dawn from Rome,Your Excellency ... from Herodias.’

Jotapa stopped in her tracks. She couldhear Herod’s crisp, cultured toneseffortlessly.

‘Herodias has sworn she will not marryme until Jotapa is repudiated. Herodiasdemands it. Our affair is no longer secret– Jerusalem’s scandalmongers createmischief.’

‘Herodias has accepted your proposalof marriage, sire, and has drawn up a

contract to move into your household onyour next return from Rome. It is,however, in both your and PrincessHerodias’s contracts that the daughter ofAretas is to be renounced...’

There was a long silence.‘...thrown out.’Jotapa’s blood ran cold. She stayed,

hardly daring to breathe, hidden behindthe palm’s foliage.

Herod Antipas paced up and down thepath, his face drawn. ‘I would have got ridof her years ago if not for her father, thatconfounded warmonger Aretas!’

‘Then repudiate her immediately,master.’

‘If I divorce her, her devoted fatherwill wage war on me with his horde ofbloodthirsty Arabs!’

Caspius’s evil eyes narrowed as heplaced his hand heavily on his master’sbangled arm. ‘But, master...’

Jotapa leaned forward, straining to hearhim, hardly believing her ears.

‘There are other means...’There was a long silence.‘It must have no repercussions,

Caspius. If there is any hint of villainy, theArabians will slaughter us withoutmercy.’

Great, noiseless sobs racked Jotapa’spetite frame. She held her head in herhands, distraught, her gleaming ravenlocks falling with the tears down over herslim, jewelled fingers.

‘My Egyptian physicians are mostskilled in the arts of poison ... There willbe no evidence.’

‘And I could finally marry Herodias.’Jotapa watched as Herod smiledcalculatingly. ‘Make haste, Caspius. Thereis no time to lose. I leave for Rome atdusk and return twenty days hence. On myreturn, I shall invite the princess to mychambers, and we shall dine.’

‘It will be done, Your Excellency. Onyour return.’

* * *Jotapa ran, stumbling, falling, back up thelower path towards her golden-roofedpalace chambers. Tears mixed with ochrecoursed down her high, elegantcheekbones as she wrote in Syriac with ashaking hand. Ayeshe, her father’s faithfulold Arab manservant, bequeathed to heron her marriage, watched her with tears in

his own eyes as well. Jotapa folded theletter hastily with trembling fingers.

‘Ayeshe, go to my father.’ She took adeep breath in between sobs. ‘Tell himthat Herod seeks my life. He must saveme. I will tell the king I am ill, and askpermission to convalesce at Macheruswhile he is Rome.’

She pushed the letter into the old man’shands.

‘Saleem will organize all necessarypreparations for the journey. My father’sgenerals must meet me there and escort mestraight to Petra.’

Jotapa pushed Ayeshe out the back wayand watched, trembling, as he mounted thewhite Arabian stallion.

‘Ride like the wind, Ayeshe,’ shewhispered as the stallion tore out of the

palace gates. ‘Oh, Papa!’ she sobbed.* * *

A tall, haggard-looking young man withlong, unkempt hair stood on the edge of theriver. He wore a rough garment of camel’shair tied with a leather girdle; his limbswere burned nut brown by the relentlessJudaean sun. The crowds thronging theriver Jordan stood riveted to his everyimpassioned word. His voice carrieddeep conviction, and his emerald eyesburned with fervour in his handsome,angular face.

‘I am the voice of one crying in thewilderness. Make straight the way of theLord.’

He returned to his task of baptizing theunending procession of men, women, and

children, when an enormous chariot,pulled by six white steeds decorated ingolden ornaments, turned and stopped at avantage point above the river. It wasHerod Antipas’s royal chariot. TheBaptist looked up from his baptizing andfell silent. He bowed his head, praying.Then grasped the shoulder of one of hisdisciples.

‘Ari, take care of the people. I have amessage to deliver.’

His jaw set, he pushed swiftly past theeager, clamouring throng until he stood inthe crowd just an arm’s length from theroyal carriage, which had started to moveslowly back on its way.

‘Stop! Stop, I command you!’Herod’s soldiers grabbed the Baptist

and shoved him roughly to the ground as

the carriage came to an abrupt halt.Slowly, the curtain parted, and a veiled

face stared out directly at the man lying onthe ground. A finger with a long paintedfingernail pointed directly at him. A loudwhispering rose up from the throng. TheBaptist lifted his bloodied mouth from thedust.

‘Bring the creature here,’ Herodiascommanded.

The soldiers manhandled him towardsher. He struggled violently, his eyesflashing with anger.

‘Mmmm ... very handsome.’John stared at her boldly, and Herodias

removed her veil, revealing her ageing butstill sensuous features. Her crimsoned lipspouted provocatively.

‘And not afraid.’ She stared at him,

fascinated.‘You are a man of God, the rabble say –

so much wasted passion.’A guard bowed deeply before the

chariot.‘He says he has a message for you,

Your Highness.’‘You have a message?’ She ran her

finger over her lips. ‘For me? Bring theBaptist nearer, that he may tell me hismessage.’

The guards dragged John forward.Herodias reached out her soft, whiteringed hand and caressed John’s faceslowly and sensuously. He lifted his eyesto hers.

‘I have a message from the most highGod. You are an adulteress, andincestuous. You sin against the most high

God. You are under judgement.’Herodias turned pale and began to

tremble uncontrollably; her limbs becamelike water. Then her eyes blazed withfury. ‘You are a fool!’ she cried. ‘Youinsult a queen-to-be! Herod Antipas shallhear of this.’

John looked at her in the eyes, bold andat peace.

‘You shall pay for it with your life!’ shehissed. ‘When I am queen I shall seize youand throw you in the dungeons inMacherus!’ She seized the whip from thedriver, and brought it violently down onthe nearest horse. ‘I shall silence you,Baptist!’ she yelled as the carriage pulledaway.

* * *

The seven pale lilac moons of dawnglimmered on the First Heaven’s horizonsas Michael and Gabriel raced bareback ontheir stallions through the foaming silverwaves towards the Palace of Archangels.They raced neck and neck, slowing as theycaught sight of Jether in the distance.Michael slowed his stallion to an evencanter. Gabriel followed until theyreached the shore where Jether stood,grave. They dismounted.

‘The hour has come, my princes.’ Jethersaid softly. He held out a parchmentembossed with the seal of Perdition in hishand to Michael who took it, scanning itscontents.

‘The High Council received an extraproviso from Lucifer forty moons ago.’Jether’s voice was soft. ‘Yehovah sets the

time but Lucifer, in his capacity assovereign ruler of the Race of Men,demanded the right to choose the locationof his contest with the Nazarene. Hisproviso was accepted by Yehovah. He hasstipulated through the royal courts that thelocation of the contest will be divulgedonly to his blood brothers. And to onlyone of you. That one must set foot on hisdomain before the fading of the twelvemoons of Perdition.’

Michael’s eyes flashed with a darkfury. ‘What new foolishness is this?’

Jether passed the missive to Gabriel.‘You must deliberate between

yourselves. As, of course, is hisintention.’ Jether lowered his tone. ‘Weare well aware.’

‘I will go,’ said Gabriel softly. ‘He

will only seek to incense you, Michael.And do it with deliberate intent.’Michael’s chin set. ‘Yes – he may incenseme,’ he stared angrily back at Gabriel, hisemotions strangely charged, ‘but hisseductions could still hold sway overyou...’

Jether placed his hand gently onMichael’s arm. Michael bowed his head,immediately penitent.

‘Forgive me, Gabriel,’ he said softly,‘his sorceries reach us even here.’

Jether sighed. ‘He has no power here.Your souls have long been freed from hishold. Have faith in each other.’ Jetherstudied the two brothers intently. ‘Havefaith in Yehovah.’

Jether took the missive from Gabrieland placed it in the pouch at his waist.

‘Your escort stands ready at the WesternGate. Lucifer awaits his brother at hissummer palace above the Babylonianplains of the Race of Men. Choose wisely.Choose swiftly. The moons of Perditionfade even as we speak.’

* * *Aretas paced the four corners of his ornatefestival tent, Jotapa’s missive crumpled inhis fist. He stopped, smoothed the page,and reread the letter for the third time. Hisblack eyes glittered hard with wrath.

Ayeshe knelt before him, trembling.Aretas turned to his chief general.‘Saleem, wake your generals from theirbeds. Prepare the royal guard. Ridethrough the night. Our enemy is time. Donot dare return without my daughter.’

He lifted his hand to Saleem, thenstrode through the tent’s entrance andgazed out across the white sands to the fullmoon illuminating the lapping azurewaters of the Gulf of Aqaba. He turned tohis chief of staff, standing silently in theshadows.

‘Break off all amicable relations withmy son-in-law.’ His voice was quiet.Dangerously soft. ‘We will make a pretextfor conflict, concerning the boundaries inthe land of Gabala, as soon as Jotapa issafe and it suits our purposes – and inflicta severe and ruinous defeat on Antipas.Jotapa’s honour must be avenged at allcosts.’ His eyes glittered black withrevulsion. ‘As weak and wretched aprince that ever disgraced the throne of anafflicted country ... Mahmoud, pack the

tents immediately. Wake the royalservants. We depart at dawn back toPetra.’

He put his hand gently on Ayeshe’swhite head.

‘You have done well, my devotedservant.’

Aretas turned and strode back outacross the tent court to the large carvedstone a ‘Beytel’, that rose behind the tent.On the top of the altar lay the small carvedwooden cross from Alexandria. He pickedit up and held it tightly to his chest, raisinghis eyes to the heavens.

‘Help me, Hebrew.’

Chapter Sixteen

Terms of Engagement

Lucifer flung open the colossal doors ofhis newly constructed summer palace andwalked out onto the eastern terraces. Hewatched in gratification at the lone chariotthat flew through the clouds, its escortlong turned back to the mid heavens,thundering towards his recentlyconstructed monstrous alabaster edifice.

Lucifer himself had been the grandarchitect of the palace and its exotichanging gardens suspended leagues abovethe sweltering Babylonian plains in theSecond Heavens. Branches of myrtle,

willow, and juniper trees hung low overthe upper terrace walls, while thousandsof almond, date palm, ebony, and terebinthtrees flourished along the lower terraces.Nightshade, pomegranate, plum, pear,quince, fig, and grapevines were entwinedover a hundred terraces and archessupported by hundreds of colossalalabaster columns. Brilliantly colouredflowers of every hue dangled from theramparts. Below, in the inner sanctum ofthe palace, were over a thousand golden-vaulted chambers and underground cryptsthat housed his vast libraries of iniquities– the records of every genealogical line ofthe Race of Men.

He raised his face to the skies andmoved his palm across the heavens.Instantly, the plains of Perdition appeared.

Lucifer stared at the twelve pale magentamoons of Perdition rapidly fading from thedesolate smouldering horizons of hell.

‘The moons fade – you are just in time,brother,’ he murmured. ‘Marduk, unboltthe palace doors – I would bid my brotherwelcome.’

* * *The platinum wheels of the royal chariotsank down into the green lawns of thehanging gardens. Instantly six of Lucifer’sattendants stepped up and bowed deeplyas the carriage door opened.

Lucifer stood in the enormous archedentrance of the palace. He surveyed thetall, muscular figure who stepped out ofthe carriage and onto the palace lawnswith satisfaction. Michael’s loose golden

mane fell well below his broad shouldersonto his emerald velvet cloak. He worethe white ceremonial robes of hisbattalion trimmed with gold. His strong,chiselled face was set, his green eyesinscrutable. Lucifer smiled in pleasure.

‘Ah, Michael...’ He strode towardsMichael and kissed him warmly on bothcheeks. ‘I knew you would come,brother.’

Michael stared at him coldly. ‘Yourmind games are wasted on me, Lucifer.’

‘Of course, my brother, you were nevercerebral like Gabriel,’ Lucifer smiledagain, indulgently.

‘No matter.’ He grasped Michael firmlyby the shoulder and led him through thewinding corridors. ‘I have something Iwish you to see...’

Together they strode through thewinding palace corridors under Lucifer’smagnificent frescoed ceilings, descendingdownwards into the thousand goldenvaulted chambers beneath the palace.Finally they stopped at heavily guardedenormous gilded doors. TwelveLuciferean Guards bowed deeply inreverence, then unchained the doors.Lucifer walked into the chamber,followed closely by Michael. There,ahead of them, manacled to a colossalalabaster altar was a carved golden casketwith golden cherubim – the Ark of theRace of Men.

‘The Ark...’ Michael murmured in awe.‘Ah...’ Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with

exhilaration. ‘How well I know mybrother. Long has Michael wished to gaze

on that which is no longer his.’‘Stolen ... I believe would be a more

appropriate word.’Lucifer winced.‘Michael, Michael – How undeserved.

Not stolen – appropriated. I did not takeit, it was placed into my hands by itsstewards themselves.’

‘Your methods hold no interest for me.You stole it. By manipulation, by your evilscheming you reign king over the Race ofMen.’

Lucifer picked up the golden key andslowly opened the casket. Twelve goldencodices occupied the ark, the covers of thelarge books embedded with jacinth,diamonds, sapphires, chrysolite, andmultitudes of other precious stones.

‘The title deeds to the earth and its

solar system, the Second Heaven abovethe earth,’ Lucifer said, ‘bequeathed byYehovah to the Race of Men.’ He swungaround. ‘Bequeathed by the Race of Mento me. I reign Prince of their world. Thisis Yehovah’s covenant, bound by EternalLaw ... Adam’s defection – my greatesttriumph...’ He spun around. ‘So far.’

He strode from the chamber through thelower corridors out onto the sapphirepathway of the lower terraces. Michaelfollowed him down the majestic pavilionsof cedars and great oaks to a porticosurrounded by magnificent gushingwaterfalls. The scent of frankincensepermeated the pavilions.

Underneath the portico stood asumptuously decorated table lavishly setfor three. Balberith took Lucifer’s cloak,

then Michael’s, placing them on a podiumbehind them. Lucifer reclined back in anornately carved ivory chair, then motionedto Michael to do likewise in a second.

‘So...’ Lucifer smiled languidly. ‘TheNazarene has reached the age of thirtyyears, as counted in the Race of Men.Yehovah’s protection is lifted.’ He heldout his cup to his cupbearer who filled itat once with a thick gold and strawberryelixir. ‘Drink, brother...’ Luciferaddressed Michael. ‘You have a longjourney,’ he paused, ‘...home.’ Michaelheld out his goblet to the cupbearer whofilled it.

‘You are well?’ Lucifer enquired.Michael nodded. ‘Gabriel is well?’Michael’s eyes narrowed. Slowly henodded.

‘You are concerned about our health?’Michael asked, a rare mischief flickeringin his eyes.

Lucifer studied him lazily. ‘I havemissed your dry humour.’ Lucifer pickedup a soft sugared rose-coloured delicacy,and placed it into his mouth. ‘I havemissed much of Michael.’ He turned hisfull sapphire blaze to Michael.

Michael lowered his eyes. He had beenaway from Lucifer’s presence for aeonsyet could suddenly feel the familiarseduction drawing him close. Lucifer’sdanger, Michael considered, lay in hisvery intensity. His reverie was broken asa tall muscular figure sat in the chair to hisright, his hair as blond as Michael’s, hisstature as imperial.

‘Your Majesty. I present Astaroth ...

Grand Duke of Perdition,’ Balberithannounced. Michael stared at Astaroth, hissoul suddenly strangely filled with athousand unheralded emotions fromworlds long past. Astaroth laid his helmetdown on the table. He bowed his head indeference.

‘Chief prince Michael of the RoyalHouse ... welcome to Perdition.’

Lucifer watched intently, ‘Howtouching.’ A small smile flickered at hislips. ‘Two old comrades in arms.’ Hestudied Michael’s face. ‘How long is itsince you fellowshipped, brother?’

‘The fellowship is broken.’ Michaelsaid coldly. ‘Astaroth chose his bed.’

Astaroth stared at Michael a longwhile. Enigmatic. ‘And I lie in it.’

Balberith and his courtiers placed huge

silver dishes of steaming boar and venisondown before them. Michael brought hishead close to Astaroth’s. Lucifer watchedhim out of the corner of his eye.

‘Do you have no regret, Astaroth?’ Hespoke in an undertone. ‘You were onewith Gabriel and I, a prince of the Royalhouse. When you lie awake at night, doyou not feel shame for your treachery – forall that was and could have been?’

A fleeting vulnerability crossedAstaroth’s features. He looked deeply intoMichael’s gaze, then back to Lucifer, thenstared out at the waterfalls. Michaelstared over to Lucifer in exasperation.

‘It seems you have Astaroth’s tongue.’‘Under iron control. I rule by force.

Coercion. I take no prisoners.’‘Yet each and every one is a captive.’

Michael’s voice was very soft but fierce.Lucifer spun around. ‘I tire of my

brother’s conversation.’ His voice held asoft venom.

‘And I tire of my brother’s diversions.’Michael replied heatedly. ‘Where is thecontest to be held, Lucifer?’

‘My dull and dogged Michael ... youbecome uninteresting.’

Lucifer reclined back in his chair andsipped from his goblet.

‘Oh – Where is the second Eden to be?Which ancient wonder of my planet earth– which magnificent edifice is to be ourbackdrop?’ Lucifer tore off a boar’s legwith his hand and sank his teeth into itvoraciously. ‘Michael, shall I meet theNazarene at the Mausoleum ofMaussollos, or the Pharos at

Alexandria...?’Lucifer threw up his arms dramatically.

‘Is it to be the Sphinx at Gaza ... the Statueof Zeus at Olympia made of marble andbeaten gold?’ he continued. ‘Many moonsI have spent to find a location fit for theNazarene.’

‘I have no time for your indulgences.’Michael glared at Lucifer impatiently.

‘Marduk!’ Lucifer idly picked up asilver casket, toying with it with hisringed fingers. ‘My younger brother’stemper turns ill.’

He passed the casket to Marduk. ‘Readthe contents aloud to my fractious brother.The location that I, Lucifer, have selectedfor our contest.’

Marduk unclasped the casket andremoved a scroll. He opened it.

‘The contest will be fought, mi’lord, atthe location named Mount Quarnel.’

‘Mount Quarnel?’ Michael exclaimed,snatching the missive out of Marduk’sgrasp. ‘Mount Quarnel is a wilderness,Lucifer!’

Lucifer studied Michael, his expressioninscrutable.

‘A wilderness...’ Lucifer smiled at himtantalizingly. ‘How careless of me ... TwoKingdoms contesting for the Race of Menon a desert tract – one that obsesses himso.’ He took another huge bite of theboar’s leg and chewed for a long moment.

‘It is fortuitous, Michael.’ Lucifermoved his head to Michael’s, his voice anundertone. ‘The Nazarene will bescorched in the desert – without food fortydays – fainting from hunger ... it will be

greatly to my advantage.’Michael bowed his head to Astaroth. ‘I

have what I came for. I take my leave.’ Herose, then snatched his cloak, incensed,his hand on his sword. ‘I shall be there towitness your defeat, Lucifer.’

Lucifer stood, his arms outstretched.‘You miscalculate, brother!’ Balberithdraped his cloak over his shoulders.

‘Don’t you see?’ he hissed. ‘If theNazarene obeys even one of mycommands ... just one, Michael ... He willbe my craven subject. Just like Adambefore Him. To do my will. Yehovah’spathetic little rescue mission is thwarted.’

Lucifer bowed to Michael. ‘The seal islifted.’ Michael watched him stridingdown the corridors, his indigo cloakbillowing after him. ‘The Nazarene is

mine!’ he cried. The faint aroma offrankincense lingered in his wake.

* * *Michael flung the doors of Gabriel’ssouthern chambers wide. Gabriel slowlyturned from the balcony. ‘You are backsafe, brother. I am comforted.’

His gentle features were haggard.‘I have been tormented by dreamings,

Michael – I have seen his very intention.’Gabriel walked towards Michael. ‘Hewill lay his kingdom at his feet – the Ark,the title deeds, the books of judgements,the book of iniquities. It is in his hands togive to whom he would choose.’

Michael nodded, unclasped his swordbelt and placed it wearily on a jacinththrone. ‘He chooses the Nazarene.’

‘Let us walk.’ Gabriel and Michaelwalked together across the vast diamondfloors of Gabriel’s chambers, beneath thesoaring vaulted ceilings until they reachedthe arched door of his private retreat thatled to his glass house palace that hungover the very edge of the Crystal Sea. Thesoaring glass house’s floors were of lushlawn and covered in foxgloves and lupinsof every colour of the rainbow. Grandpools flowed into waterfalls that fellleagues down into the Sea. Gabriel strodeover the flowers that sprang up under hisfeet and dived into the deep silver pools.He surfaced.

‘Christos is birthed of mud and dust.’He pushed his hair back from his eyes.‘Encased in a body of matter. Heconfronts Lucifer and his evil scheming as

one of the Race of Men. If He falters evenonce...’

Michael stared eastwards out towardsthe shimmering Rubied Door far in thedistance. ‘Yehovah’s plan to liberate theRace of Men from Lucifer’s tyranny islost.’

Gabriel nodded, his gaze dropping tothe silver casket still clasped in Michael’sleft hand.

‘Where is the contest to be, Michael?’Gabriel whispered. ‘A second Eden?’

Michael followed his gaze past theRubied Door to the vast golden bulrushmeadows of the Eastern plains of Eden.The brothers watched the sheer majesty ofthe undulating rainbow horizons insilence.

‘No, it is far from any Eden, Gabriel.’

Michael bowed his head, a terriblesuffering on his strong features.

‘The contest will be fought at MountQuarnel, north of Jericho. He will faceLucifer in a wilderness, surrounded bywild beasts.’

Chapter Seventeen

The Vale of Temptation– AD 27

Jesus surveyed the vast expanse of barren,stony wilderness, His strong, imperialfeatures set as stone. His long dark hair,lashed by the fierce desert sandstorm,thrashed against his bare, sun-scorchedshoulders in the wind. He stumbled acrossthe harsh, rocky terrain, faint from hungerand exhaustion. In the distance, a secondfigure walked towards Him. Luciferstopped ten yards away, dark hair flying,majestic, noble. They could almost have

been brothers, although Lucifer stood aclear three feet taller, his six wings spreadbehind him, his scarlet cloak blowingbehind him. The dark seraph.

In the distance, Astaroth, Dagon andMoloch stood silent, high on themountains, behind them thousands of thefallen host waited, menacing, covered inshadow, in their monstrous black warchariots.

Jesus looked resolutely at Lucifer. Hestudied the Nazarene’s crystal clear gaze.

‘So this is what it’s come down to...’Lucifer laughed manically. ‘The greatYehovah ... Christos, sovereign ruler ofthe universe, ensnared in matter. Jesus ofNazareth...’

Jesus was silent.‘The seal of the seventh stone has been

lifted. You are unprotected, Christos.’Lucifer walked towards him menacingly.‘You have none of your former powersnow – you must pass the tests as one ofthem. It is the condition of the Codices.’

Jesus continued to gaze at him. Insilence.

Lucifer spat. ‘That I would ever seesuch a day – Yehovah, Almighty Creator,denying Your deity and taking on theirinferior form. Lower than the angels. Itinsults me,’ he spat.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. ‘But maybeYou are not He. I require proof...’ Heswung around. ‘If You are the Son of God,then prove it. You fast and are faint fromhunger – turn these stones into bread.’

Jesus stood completely still as Lucifermoved closer. Lucifer leaned down and

picked up a stone; it turned to bread,freshly baked ... still steaming.

Jesus bowed His head. He had beenwithout food for nearly forty days, and Hisfamished body was starting to rebelviolently.

Lucifer took and ate. Revelling inJesus’ torment. ‘Satiate Your hunger.’ Heheld out the fresh bread.

‘Matter requires sustenance to exist,’ hesmiled, ‘unlike the angelic.’

He studied Jesus with narrowed eyes,then tore more of the bread and bit into itdeeply. With great relish.

Jesus bowed His head. His voice wasfaint. ‘It is written by My Father: manshall not live by bread alone but by everyword of God.’

Lucifer studied Him for a long moment,

then moved his hand across the skyline.Immediately he and Jesus stood on thelofty pinnacle spire of the temple ofJerusalem. Lucifer watched Jesus intently,drawing nearer to Him.

‘Thirty years away from His presence,away from the very elixir of life – Yousuffer, Christos; I sense it,’ he whispered.

A terrible grief crossed Jesus’ face.‘Hearken back to your days of glory!’

Lucifer knelt on one knee and bowedhis head. ‘Behold, O God our defender,and look upon the face of Thy chiefprinces, for one day in Thy courts...’ Aslow cruel smile spread across his face ashe raised his arms raised to the heavens.‘...is better than a thousand elsewhere.’

Jesus said nothing as He watched imageafter image of Lucifer and the archangels

bowing before His throne. An agonizedsob rose in Jesus’ throat, and He turned toLucifer, suddenly vulnerable.

Lucifer was ready. ‘I suffer as You do,Christos, each and every dawn.’ Hereached out his hand, still wearing his ringwith the royal crest of the House ofYehovah. Jesus stared in recognition at theroyal seal, and an intense, searingyearning coursed through Him.

Lucifer smiled. ‘I know what it is to bedesolate, Christos – away from Him.’

* * *Jether walked slowly out of the entranceto the Holy of Holies, his white headbowed in silent supplication.

‘Lucifer revisits Eden as the tempter.’Gabriel turned his face away.

‘This is no Eden,’ murmured Jether, hisface ashen. ‘He is now to be temptedunder all the pressing conditions of thefall.’ He walked towards the edge of thehanging gardens, looking out towardsearth, and raised his hand. Instantly MountQuarnel came into view.

Michael watched Lucifer and Jesus ofNazareth in horror. ‘He launches thewhole fiendish arsenal of hell againstHim. He has meticulously planned it.’

‘We wait, Michael.’ Jether placed afirm hand on his arm and bowed his head.

‘Have faith.’* * *

The tempter continued, ‘A carpenter’s sonfrom Nazareth cannot herald in a kingdomunless they proclaim You their king ...

They do not understand Your deity,Christos,’ he whispered, ‘even inNazareth, the carpenter is a prophetwithout honour...’

Christos bowed His head.‘You – the Great King of the First

Heaven have made Yourself lower thanthe angels, Christos – for the sake ofwhat? The Race of Men? You havegranted them free will, and yet theyembrace me! They do not care that Youwere born one of them. The sacrifice ofthe great Christos is passed over,completely disregarded in the Race ofMen.

An evil smile played across Lucifer’smouth as he caressed the ring. ‘Whatvisions of despair, what desolations havefilled Your soul these forty days and

nights, Christos – visions of a missionaborted ... a mission failed?’

‘The Race of Men seek signs, Christos.They seek wonders. Descend, heaven-borne, into the midst of the priests,Christos ... prove to them Your deity ...Jump,’ he hissed.

Lucifer moved his arm across theskyline, and instantly a panorama unfoldedbefore them. Jesus watched, transfixed, asimages played of Himself jumping off thespire to shouts of acclamation. Hewatched as the Pharisees and Sadduceeshailed Him as King. He stared, almostmesmerized, at the chief priests andpriests falling in homage before Him as hewalked through the temple courtyard.

Lucifer’s wheedling tones brokethrough His reverie.

‘Yehovah will give His angels chargeover You to keep You,’ he whispered.‘Michael will save You ... then they willall hail You as their true Messiah. ... Takethe short cut, Nazarene ... Show them Yourpower ... Jump...’

Lucifer drew close to Jesus. Theywatched in silence together as the massivetemple gates opened and the priests’trumpets blasted through the pale dawnsilence.

Jesus looked up, pale and trembling.‘Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.’

Lucifer paled. He pulled his heavyvelvet cloak tightly around him in fury,then moved his hand across the heavens.Immediately he and Jesus stood on thesummit of a vast mountain, in the full blazeof sunlight, where they shared a bird’s-eye

view of the entire earth.Instantly the horizon changed, and the

sounds of millions of voices fromheavenly choirs; of tabrets; pipes, violins– wondrous sounds beyond human orangelic comprehension – titillated Hissenses.

‘The splendour of Eden ... thebreathtaking elements of earth in all itsglory...,’ Lucifer murmured seductively.‘Observe the beauty, the majesty...’

Lucifer circled Jesus.Jesus stared, strangely captivated, as a

thousand images played out in vividtechnicolour. ‘Nations rising and falling,kings and kingdoms...,’ Lucifer whispered.

Jesus watched hundreds of millions ofsoldiers – Chinese, American, British,Japanese, Arab, and Russian, their flags

all emblazoned with Yehovah’s royal seal– marching.

‘This is why You are here, Christos.’‘To proclaim Yehovah’s kingdom. You

need not pass any test for indeed I willbequeath all the nations of this planet toYou now. All that was delivered to me inthe title deeds of the Ark of the Covenantof the Race of Men.’ A slow strange smilespread across Lucifer’s features. Hebowed down before Jesus.

‘I give You my kingdom.’He waved his hand. Asmodeus and six

fallen angels walked towards themcarrying the Ark of the Covenant of theRace of Men upon their shoulders. Theyplaced the great golden ark before Jesus’feet. Slowly Lucifer opened the lid. Insidewere the twelve glowing golden codices,

the title deeds to earth and the solarsystems. Lucifer stated, ‘I grant You therulership of the Race of Men.’

‘And...,’ he gestured to the millions ofthe shadowed fallen host in their warchariots waiting on the horizon, ‘I giveYou – the armies of the fallen ... onceYours – to be at Your command.’

* * *Jether shook his head grimly. ‘How farhas the lightbearer fallen – he offers hisdamned host that once served Christosback to be His vassals.’

Michael frowned. ‘The title deeds –What scheming strategy is this now?’

‘He offers the kingdom of the Race ofMen in exchange for His very soul.’Gabriel said softly. ‘We knew it would be

so,’ Jether said.‘The very same same strategy that he

used to tempt Eve, and Adam after her.’Jether continued. ‘If Jesus, weary of thecontest, succumbs to his seductions, Hehas bowed His knee to Lucifer, just asAdam did so easily in the first Eden. Hethen becomes his subject and forfeits theright to proclaim the kingdom of the FirstHeaven.’

‘It is the rule of Eternal Law,’ Gabrielechoed. ‘This Lucifer well knows.’

They watched as Jesus closed His eyes.‘He faints from hunger,’ Michael

murmured.‘He is weary of the contest,’ Jether

whispered. He covered his head with hishood with trembling hands and bowed hishead. In supplication for Jesus of

Nazareth’s soul.* * *

‘Forfeit the contest, Christos.’ Lucifermoved closer; his voice was soft,seductive ... compelling. ‘They do notdeserve Yehovah’s love. They arerenegades ... treacherous ... lovers only ofthemselves.’

Lucifer’s eyes blazed with fury. ‘Menserve me willingly; they enjoy myrewards. They are reprobates; theirtransgression against our Father isunpardonable. Why should You proclaimYour kingdom when their ears are stoppedand their eyes are dim with their own lustsand self-will? All this authority over theRace of Men I will give to You because itis mine, for it has been delivered to me

and mine, to give to whomever I wish.’Lucifer’s eyes gleamed in exhilaration.

‘I wish to give it to You, Christos...’ Hemoved his face closer, so close that hischeek brushed Jesus’ own. ‘...if Youworship me.’

Jesus’ head remained bowed; Lucifer’sface contorted into a vicious mask ofloathing.

‘Now bow, Nazarene,’ he snarled, ‘AsYou made me bow in the penitentiary,when You humiliated me before mykingdom ... Worship me...’

Very slowly Jesus raised His head. ‘Itis written that you shall worship the Lordyour God, and Him only you shall serve.’His voice was as soft as the breeze butsharp as a blade.

‘Before your rebellion – you

worshipped Me as seraph.’ His fierceclear eyes stared directly into Lucifer’sshadowed sapphire gaze.

Jesus’ words rang clear andunmistakably through the skies of MountQuarnel, echoing in the First Heaven.

‘Get ... behind ... Me ... Satan.’Lucifer shielded his eyes from the

blinding light emanating from Jesus’ form.Jesus raised His arm. Instantly, Luciferwas thrust violently to the desert floor, hisbody shaking uncontrollably in loathingand terror.

* * *‘Yehovah!’ Jether cried out inexhilaration. A tear ran unheeded downhis weathered cheek.

Gabriel closed his eyes in reverence.

‘The kingdom of the First Heavendescends on the Race of Men!’

A great rushing of wind filled theeastern horizon as Yehovah’s huge whiteeagles flew over the steep onyxfoundations, under the heights of theclouds towards Mount Quarnel.

Michael stood.‘We make haste to our king!’ he cried.

* * *Moloch stared, paralysed at the searinglight erupting from the wilderness heightstowards the fallen host. Dagon fell likelead to his knees on the desert floor,gasping for breath.

‘Retreat!’ he gasped, clutching histhroat as hundreds of Lucifer’s blackstallions bolted, overturning war chariots

and stampeding across the wilderness.‘Draw back!’ Moloch screamed. ‘The

Nazarene wreaks havoc against us!’Uproar broke out among the confused

fallen horde as thousands of monstrouswar chariots took off into the blazingdawn skies above Mount Quarnel.

Only Astaroth stood silent, his greatfists grasping the reins of Lucifer’smonstrous war stallions that pulled hischariot.

The stallions remained calm, butAstaroth’s entire body shook as hewatched from the shelter of the chariot, hisgaze riveted on the imperial figure inwhite far in the distance. He staredtransfixed as Christos raised His hands tothe skies in rapture.

Slowly, the ferocious light softened and

Astaroth moved from the shelter ofLucifer’s war chariot to the open plainswatching the skies. Michael’s company often thousand times ten thousand heaven’sgreat angelic company descended on thevast desert terrain of Mount Quarnel, theirangelic shofars blowing from the north,south, east, and west of the horizon, led byMichael’s golden chariot. Astarothwatched as Michael alighted, tall andimperial in his silver armour. He removedhis helmet, shaking his long blond hairloose from its braids, then strode straighttowards the blazing white form, where heknelt before him.

Astaroth turned away, a thousandunsolicited emotions invading his soul.

Then he raised his gaze upwards to amonstrous form that flew straight towards

him across the desert, his six dark seraphwings outstretched, his raven hair flailingacross his scarlet cloak that blew wildlyin the desert winds, his eyes burning withan evil crimson fire. His master – Lucifer.

I lowered my eyes from themalevolent hatred of his gaze thatday – the day of his grievous defeatat the hands of the Nazarene.

‘I shall wreak my vengeance,Gabriel!’ he spat as he pulled hisscarlet cloak around his imperialform.

Then he disappeared withAstaroth in his war chariot on theflashing thunderbolts, following hismenacing, iniquitous horde of thefallen.

Returning to his summer palaceon the Babylonian plains of theRace of Men ... to conspire once

2021Petra

Nick drew up outside the MovenpickNabatean Castle Hotel, ten minutes fromthe entrance to Petra. He handed the keysfor his rented convertible to the concierge,then turned towards the mountains,drinking in the spectacular views over theGreat Rift Valley. He ran his frail fingersthrough his long, tousled hair with itsfashionable dirty blond lowlights.

‘Match me such a marvel save inEastern clime,’ he murmured in hisdistinct London accent. ‘A rose red city...’

‘...half as old as time,’ the familiarmelodious Arabic clipped English-accented voice softly finished his

sentence. Nick turned, an unusual softnesson his features.

‘The Victorian traveller and poet, DeanBurgon – his contribution to themagnificence that is Petra,’ the princesscontinued. She studied Nick intently. Hewas frailer than the last time she had seenhim, a month ago. Still attractive ... far tooattractive.

Four years ago, at twenty-four, Nick DeVere had been the toast of Westernsociety, sex symbol of the year in all thehottest Western gossip magazines – therich, pretty young playboy whose primeoccupation had been to dissipate the firsttranche of his inordinate trust fund in abevy of exclusive private clubs strungfrom London to Monte Carlo to Rome,seven nights a week. His antics had been

splashed across the front pages of theNews of the World and The Sun, much tohis father’s chagrin and his mother’sdespair – and his elder brother’s outrighthorror. Finally his father, James De Vere,had frozen Nick’s trust fund the nightbefore collapsing with a fatal heart attack.And now Nick had AIDS. One evening toomany – the sex, the heroin, the adrenalineof the chase. Nick De Vere was dying.

‘You came?’ Nick seemed surprised.He strode after her and her entourage of

clean-shaven bodyguards into the hotellobby, where she was greeted by themanagement. Jordanian secret serviceagents were already stationed at intervalsthroughout the hotel.

Princess Jotapa stepped into the liftwith the manager. She looked at Nick

intently. ‘We share a similar passion forancient artefacts. You said you haddiscovered an antiquity ... something Iwould find of immense interest.’

Nick nodded.‘Your Majesty...,’ the manager

interrupted, bowing.Nick glared, furious, as the lift doors

closed on him.He legged it up the stairs, arriving out

of breath just as the princess stepped outand walked through to the terrace. Theyhad seen each other on only one otheroccasion since the meeting in Alexandria,across a room at an after party in Amman,during Adrian’s fleeting Middle East tour.

‘You have good architectural taste,Nicholas.’ The princess raised hereyebrows. Impressed. ‘This hotel was

designed by the renowned Jordanianarchitect Rasem Badran, winner of theAgha Khan Award for IslamicArchitecture.’

The manager led Jotapa to a privatetable at the very end of the terrace andheld out the chair for her. Nick followed,scowling at the two secret servicebodyguards who stood, earpieces inplace, next to the princess. He pulled outhis own chair and sat heavily, beckoningthe waiter over as Jotapa studied themenu.

‘Movenpick’s pistachio ice cream...’Jotapa smiled up at the waiter.

‘Mint tea,’ Nick said.The waiter hurried away as Jotapa

turned her clear gaze to Nick. ‘I wouldhave thought we would meet at the resort

hotel.’‘The Al Nadeem Bar has the most

spectacular sunset in Jordan.’ Nick gazedback at Jotapa intently. A soft, pinkishflush crept from her neck until it reachedher ears. She lowered her eyes.

‘Saiid, Mahmoud...’ She waved themback. They both bowed their heads inrespect and moved to the far end of theterrace.

Nick nodded in the direction of theminders. ‘How do you live in thisfishbowl?’

Jotapa sighed. ‘I grew up surrounded bybodyguards – it’s part of my life.’ Shesmiled gently at Nick. ‘I don’t resent it,Nick,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘I havebeen entrusted with many, many privilegesas a princess of Jordan, and as a princess

I embrace the burdens that are also thruston me. It is my duty to serve my people.’

‘But don’t you wish that just once youcould throw it all to the wind? Be free?’He stared at her amazed.

‘No, Nick De Vere, not even once do Iconsider it. That is the difference betweenus. You threw everything – fortune,privilege – to the wind to be free...’ Shehesitated. ‘You see, I am free, Nick.’ Shelay back in her chair, studying him.Amused.

He took out an object wrapped in abeige coloured cloth. ‘For you,’ he saidunceremoniously, laying it on the table.‘Without you, I would have no access tothe Jordanian dig.’

‘You realize, of course, that yourunprecedented access was not just royal

favour, but your reward for sacrificing theworld stage.’ Jotapa smiled, her eyesnever once leaving the cloth. ‘And forkeeping your mouth sealed.’

Nick was silent for a moment,remembering the white mist fading as twohuge golden-bound codices becamevisible in the upper compartment of thecasket. He recalled his wonder at the firstsight of the pulsing angelic script – hecould almost taste the moment when hefirst traced his finger along the title, theglowing Arabic lettering instantlytransforming to English. He pushed thebag across the table to Jotapa. ‘Here’s toextended royal favour. There.’ She lookedat him. ‘Open it.’

Carefully she unwrapped the cloth. Hereyes glittered with curiousity. Lying on the

table before her was a bundle of papyrusscrolls.

‘Your namesake,’ Nick said quietly,‘King Aretas the Fourth of Petra – hisdaughter Jotapa’s private royal journals,unearthed from our dig at Petra.’

She looked up at him. Dumbstruck.‘Where did you...?’‘In our excavations of the Temple of the

Winged Lion.’Nick pushed back his chair and stood,

his tea untouched.Jotapa reached for his hand. Suddenly

vulnerable.‘Did you...?’ She hesitated. ‘The cross,’

she murmured. ‘The legend...’Nick pushed his fringe from his eyes.‘It didn’t...’ She faltered.‘It didn’t heal me, Jotapa,’ he said

softly, walking towards the door.Her face fell, and she nodded in

acceptance. He walked through theentrance, then doubled back.

‘I didn’t touch the cross, Jotapa – Icouldn’t bring myself to. Your legend stillstands.’

And without another word, Nick DeVere was gone.

Chapter Eighteen

Flight – AD 27

Aretas’ generals raced at breakneck speedon their royal Arabian stallions, flankedby the king’s ferocious royal guard. Justlengths behind them the royal guard ofHerod Antipas rode in hot pursuit, maskedfrom their view by the fierce Arabian sandblizzards that raged across the desertplains as the party of Arabians fled fromMacherus across the vast barren desertplains towards Petra.

Jotapa sat clinging to the waist ofAretas’ most trusted general, the fierceand noble Saleem, her waist-length,

gleaming black hair flying wildly behindher as they rode. Her eyes were wide withfear.

Ahead in the distance, barely visiblethrough the seething sand storms, a talllone figure walked across the sands, Hiswhite linen robe blowing furiously in thedesert gales. He stood directly in theArabians’ path. Unmoving. He raised Hishand. One by one, the Arabian stallionscame to a grinding halt in the middle of thebarren wasteland, refusing to shift, rearingand snorting in terror.

The stranger moved nearer the horses.Jotapa watched in astonishment as Helifted His hands, deftly making the secretcalls and signals that she was certain onlyher father’s royal trainers had access to.Instantly the stallions calmed, nuzzling the

stranger’s hands.Saleem kicked his steed, but it refused

to move any farther. Jotapa turned herhead to the stranger, apprehension mixedwith her anger.

‘A fool and his sorceries!’ shoutedSaleem. ‘Get him out of our path. Use thewhips!’ Jesus calmly stood His ground.

Jotapa’s eyes met His. Incensed, sheglared at Him. He smiled.

Impatiently she dismounted. Saleemimmediately took out his whip and movedangrily over to where Jesus stood.

Jotapa, suddenly fierce, graspedSaleem’s arm. She shook her headhaughtily, giving Jesus an imperiousglance. ‘No, Saleem, I will deal with this,this impertinent stranger.’

Saleem fell to one knee. ‘Yes,

princess.’Jotapa stretched to her full imperial

height, pulled the black hood of her robeover her head and thrusting her bodyagainst the raging sandstorm, marchedwith immense difficulty directly up towhere Jesus stood. He watched herintently, restraining His amusement at herpeevishness.

‘How dare you?’ She stood in front ofHim, her eyes flashing with arrogancefrom under her hood. ‘Have You any ideaprecisely whose path You block?’

Jesus bowed His head.‘Look at me, stranger!’ Jotapa placed

the whip directly under Jesus’ chin.‘You address the princess of Arabia!’With great effort, she pushed His face

up to meet her eyeline.

Jesus raised His head, His dark manelashing against His high cheekbones. Hisface radiated with such a brilliance thatSaleem and his generals held their arms infront of their eyes.

Jotapa stared at Him apprehensively.He was about her age.

Her unruly black locks blew over herface under her hood. Jesus reached outHis hand, gently moving her hair from hereyes. She stared at Him, thunderstruck, hermind racing back to a distant far flungmemory – a moment in time more thanthirty years earlier when the young Kingand princess first met. He turned her leftpalm around; she gazed at a small scarhardly visible on her palm.

The whip slid from her hand onto thedesert floor. She stared at Him in stunned

silence. ‘Your father, Aretas, protectedMy house once,’ He said softly. He tookher slim painted hand in His. ‘Tell himfrom Me, Jotapa, that his Hebrew friendhas not forgotten. My Father shall not failto protect his house. That My kingdom iscome.’

Jotapa stared at Jesus, strangelymesmerized.

Saleem, now recovered, strode towardsJotapa, his sword raised. ‘Princess!’ hecried, gesturing behind them at Antipas’royal guard, now fully visible, thunderingtowards them on the horizon. They willslaughter us.’ He glared at Jesus darkly.‘With no mercy!’

Jesus smiled. ‘There is no need to pressthe stallions, faithful servant of Arabia.’His voice was calm. ‘Antipas’ men have

turned back. Ride in peace.’The hardened Saleem looked over his

shoulder, then stared, dumbstruck. Thedesert sands were empty, silent. Thefurious gales had abruptly reduced to agentle breeze.

Saleem frowned, bewildered. Strangetears pricked his eyes. He bowed his headto Jesus and saluted, then turned back tohis generals, brandishing his sword high.‘The gods have protected the king’sdaughter. Let us ride to Arabia!’ he cried.

When he turned back, Jotapa stoodstaring, transfixed, at the vast expanse ofdesert. The imperial white figure hadvanished.

* * *Charsoc paced up and down the portico of

the exotic hanging gardens in Lucifer’snewly created summer palace listening tothe faint thundering that echoed through thecrimson dusk, the sound of the fallen intheir monstrous war chariots, returningfrom Mount Quarnel in Palestine. Thethundering grew to a crescendo as thelegions of war chariots set down on therolling lush lawns of the palace.

Lucifer’s elite black guard stood atattention, petrified as Lucifer stormeddown from the chariot, his cloak wrappedtightly around him, whip in hand, hiscountenance like thunder. His steel bootspounded ferociously on the sapphirepathway as he strode beneath the canopiesof the willow and juniper, down themajestic pavilions of cedars and greatoaks, trampling down the beds of lilies

fiercely in his path. Close behindfollowed Asteroth and his elite guard.Storming through the golden vaultedrooms and out onto the great easternterraces, he threw his scarlet cloak ontothe marbled floors. He flung himself downon the silver throne at the head of theimmense table, draped in white satin andelaborately set for a huge banquet tocelebrate his certain victory over theNazarene. Six immense goldencandelabras, each holding a hundred blacktapers, illuminated the terrace. Thefrankincense burned and splutteredfiercely.

Lucifer sat in silence, and then held outhis hand. Nothing stirred. Balberith lifteda silver flagon filled with exotic berryelixirs and, with trembling hand, poured

the liqueur into Lucifer’s jewelled goblet.Eighty courtiers stood around the terrace,waiting in trepidation. Lucifer sat likestone. Moments passed. Then slowly,deliberately, Lucifer turned the gobletupside down. He watched the crimsonelixir pouring out, staining the satin cloth,his expression inscrutable. Then with onewrench, he heaved the cloth from thetable, the fine crystal goblets and silverdishes smashing into smithereens onto thelapis lazuli floor.

Flinging off his outer robes, he divedinto the deep indigo waters of theimmense pools that flowed outside theterrace’s magnificent sapphire balconies.

Lucifer’s powerful limbs sliced throughthe water with a savagery that set thecolossus Asteroth trembling

uncontrollably. Charsoc walked upthrough the gardens, to the pool’s edge.

‘The Nazarene?’ Charsoc raised hiseyebrows to Asteroth.

‘He did not succumb. The Nazarenewon the contest.’ Asteroth stared atCharsoc, ashen.

‘We failed,’ Charsoc whispered indread.

Lucifer heaved himself out of the pool,and Balberith ran to his side with a whitesatin robe. Lucifer snatched it fromBalberith’s grasp and flung it over hisshoulders, then slowly placed his feet inthe silver slippers laid out for him. Hewalked over to the very edge of hishanging gardens. Silent. Not a muscle ofhis face moving. Restraining his rage withiron discipline.

‘We leave for Perdition at dawn withthe Ark of the Race of Men,’ he muttered.Lucifer turned to Charsoc.

‘Let us be prudent.’ He plucked agolden pomegranate from a tall tree hungwith thousands of white blossoms andtook a large bite. ‘Summon the DarkenedCouncils of hell to the Black Palace.Summon them from the Second Heavensand from under the earth.’ Lucifer’s voicewas very soft. Dangerously soft. A smileflickered on his lips.

‘How much damage can a carpenterfrom Nazareth do?’ he shrugged. He heldthe pomegranate to his lips, then turnedback to his staring out across the vastBabylonian plain, his expression sphinxlike. The pomegranate fell from his handonto the grass.

‘How much ... indeed?’ And heferociously crushed the half-eaten fruitunder his slippered feet.

Chapter Nineteen

Zahi

Jotapa rode like the wind on her greymare, exhilarated, feeling the rush ofadrenaline as she raced past the palacepavilions and the amphitheatre, leavingthe magnificent Arabian ornamentalgardens and the royal hunting parks farbehind her. She was back in her belovedArabia.

She raced across the vast palacegrasslands, under the stately rows ofancient palms, past the royal pistachio,cashew, and wild olive groves onto theburning white sands. She slowed down the

horse’s pace as she arrived at the royalblack tents where Aretas’ royal relativesdwelled. Six young Nabatean princes,intent on training the royal horses, wavedfuriously as her mare sped by eagerly,shouting to her, their voices rising inexcited gabbled Aramaic salutations asshe galloped past.

Finally Jotapa arrived at the entrance tothe sumptuous Royal Stables, with itsornate gold fretwork. She dismounted.Aretas was unaware of her arrival,absorbed in fellowship with his favouriteArabian stallion. He whisperedendearments and fed him from his hand.

‘Papa!’ She ran to him, flinging herselfinto Aretas’ arms. Aretas kissed her onboth cheeks, and then held her fiercely tohis breast. He looked down at her, his

eyes moist, deeply moved.‘I am so thankful you are safe, my

child,’ he whispered, wiping an erranttear from his cheek with the back of hishand. ‘I climbed at dusk to the high placeand sacrificed in appreciation to thegods...’ He hesitated, ‘And to theHebrew.’

Jotapa nodded. Gently she unclaspedherself from Aretas’ arms and steppedback and studied the Nabatean king.

He looked older, much older than whenshe had left Petra to become a youngbride. His hair was greying, and thehandsome face was lined, but she loved it.He looked like the wise and mightysovereign he had become, devoting hislife to the welfare of his people. Theywalked arm in arm out of the stables, their

hands clasped together in great affectioninto the area of the great tents, Aretasleading the great Arabian steed by itshalter.

‘You remember the legend I taught youwhen you first learned to ride?’

‘I was but four; I rode with Mother.’Aretas nodded, his eyes suddenly moist.‘And the angel Gabriel took a handful

of south wind and from it formed a horse,saying, “I create thee, O Arabian.” Hewhispered, “To thy forelock, I bindvictory in battle. On thy back, I set a richspoil, and a treasure in thy loins. Iestablish thee as one of the glories of theearth...”’

Jotapa continued softly, ‘“I give theeflight without wings...”’

‘Look at his form,’ Aretas murmured.

‘Have you ever seen such symmetry,Jotapa? Such beauty? Our horses are thefinest in the world – bred for endurance,’Aretas’ eyes gleamed. ‘Agility ... andspeed!’

Aretas stopped in mid stride as theypassed one of the black tents. One of theyoung princes, a small brown-skinned boyof twelve, was whipping a young mare,which was snorting and whinnying.

Aretas frowned fiercely, grasping theboy’s arm in a vice-like grip.

‘You blunt her senses by the overuse ofthe whip.’ He threw the whip down ontothe sand, then looked up, noticing spurs onthe horse. His expression grew black andthunderous.

‘Spurs! You abuse the royal horses!’‘She was rearing, Your Majesty.’ The

child lay on the ground trembling, his facein the dust. ‘She kicked Mahmoud.’ Hepointed to a four-year-old lying tremblingon the sand, then hastily reburied his facein the sand.

‘Your voice trains the horse to habits ofgentleness and attachment, so its sensesare not blunted by abuse. As it feels thetouch of your hand, the coaxing of yourlegs, it darts away like the wind. If therider is dismounted in the chase, the horseinstantly stops till he has recovered hisseat. These are the royal Arabian horsesof Aretas, King of Arabia.’

He walked over to the sobbing littleboy lying in the dust. ‘Hush, Mahmoud,’he whispered, examining the bruised leg.Then, scooping the child up in his arms, hecradled him to his chest, moved over to

the mare, and placed him on her back. Themare looked into his eyes with her ownclear trusting ones.

‘You recognize her, Mahmoud; it isFelah – she used to share your tent – youused her neck as a pillow when you werean infant. Now, speak to her, Mahmoud –as I taught you.’

The boy whispered in the mare’s ear.Instantly she calmed down and started aslow even canter around the tents. Gentle.Perfectly calm. Jotapa watched intently asAretas signed the horse deftly.

‘Papa...’ she hesitated, ‘the Hebrewused your secret signals on our horses.’

‘Impossible!’ Aretas turned. ‘Ourhorses are trained to respond only to thesign of the king and the royal guard – thesesigns are an ancient Nabatean kings’ signs.

Known only by myself ... and mygenerals.’

I saw him with my own eyes, father. Iknow these signs also from when I wastaught as a child. He conversed with ourhorses just as you do. With the secretsigns of a Nabatean king.’

Satisfied Mahmoud – and the mare –were safe, Aretas led the way through thepistachio and wild olive groves to aprivate arbor. He clapped his hand, andfour servants appeared. One placedgoblets of gold and silver on the table.

‘Tell me, Jotapa, what kind of man isthe Hebrew?’

‘There are all manner of storiescirculating around Tiberias, Papa. I haveheard that He tells His followers that loveis mightier than the sword.’

Aretas frowned. ‘He is not a warrior, Ifear.’

Jotapa looked at him mischievously.‘Oh, and, Father, He single-handedlystopped Herod Antipas’ forces.’

Aretas smiled, relieved.‘He had a message for you, Papa. He

said that you had once protected His royalhouse, and that the house of Aretas shallnever fail to be protected by Him.’ Shelooked up at him enquiringly.

Aretas nodded, strangely moved. ‘Butdid he speak of Rome, Jotapa? When doeshe plan to overthrow the Romanoccupation?’

‘He said to tell you that His kingdom iscome.’

Aretas frowned. ‘The Hebrew speaksriddles – but He is talking of Rome – I am

sure of it!’ He held out his hand to hiscupbearer, who refilled his goblet withwine. ‘So He will overthrow the tyrantAntipas and set Himself up as King of theJews. I shall await His war and then jointhe armies of Arabia with His armies – theKing of the Jews and the king of Arabiashall be a force to contend with – togetherwe shall overthrow the Romans!’ Aretasstood.

‘Papa...’ Jotapa looked out towards theveiled windows of the palace’s easternwing. Aretas followed her gaze, hiscountenance growing clouded.

‘What ails Zahi, my beloved brother,your treasured son, the crown prince? Hischambers are barred, and the windows areveiled. I sought for his company, but Duzasays he is resting.’

Aretas sighed. ‘You must be strong,Jotapa.’ He paced the grove steadily.‘Jotapa ... I would have saved you fromthis anguish. I could not bring myself towrite to you about what has befallen him.’

Jotapa paled, intuitively. She staredinto her father’s eyes, trembling, awaitingthe words.

‘Your younger brother is sick untodeath, my child. He has leprosy.’

* * *

2021London– Julia –

Nick De Vere slammed the blacktaxicab’s door and strode towards the

Harrods entrance. He passed four Londonpolicemen in body armour holdingmachine guns. Five police vans werestationed at the top of New Oxford Street.It was a common enough sight in Londonnow. The past five years had seen a newacceleration in terrorist attacks all acrossthe British Isles and Europe. After thedirty bomb detonated in Trafalgar Square,the ancient centre of London had beendemolished and abandoned. Securityprocedures had been revolutionized allover the UK. But last month four hugebombs had been detonated in New OxfordStreet, in stores during prime timeshopping hours. Two thousand peoplekilled. It had been a massacre. The NewLondon police were taking no chances,and the normally resilient British public

was growing increasingly weary.Nick looked down at his watch – he

was late. Two security guards inside theHarrods entrance threw his bag on theconveyor belt of a sophisticated screeningcentre, then ushered him through the irisrecognition system that Adrian, during histerm as British Prime Minister, had foughtfervently to install in every public place inthe British Isles. Today, it wascommonplace. Nick couldn’t even shop athis local Sainsbury’s grocery storewithout ‘IRIS’, as she was affectionatelycalled.

He took the elevator up to the thirdfloor.

Julia was waiting for him in the PunchCafé, as he knew she would be. It was anexact replica of the original café from the

early 2000s. Nick remembered it well.She and Jason used to bring him here forlunch on their frequent business trips fromthe States when he was young.

There she was, seated at the far endtable, near the paintings. Nick smiled. Shewas talking on her phone. As usual.

Age had been good to Julia. She hadalways been pretty, but now she wasstunning. Quite stunning, Nick thought.Jason had been a fool to let her go.

He leaned over and kissed her freshlymade-up cheek. She smelled of Chanel –not the No. 5, he thought. Of jasmine ... Heplaced his sunglasses in the pocket of hisfaded leather jacket, then sat back in hischair and studied her.

She had aged well. Gracefully. Shewould be forty-one in November, but she

could pass for thirty. Her platinum blondeshoulder-length hair was painstakinglyhighlighted. Her pretty face was perfectlymade up. Her big hazel eyes smiled up athim from under her fringe as she continuedher phone conversation. She wore fadedboot-cut jeans with a simple black andsilver belt and a short-sleeved white T-shirt with some designer logo in black.Always a logo with Julia, he thoughtfondly. Jason was crazy; she was the onlything that had worked in his entirepersonal life – besides Lily, of course.

Julia placed her fine-boned hand, withits studio tan and polished acrylic nails,on his own affectionately.

Nick smiled. It still amazed him.Everything – absolutely everything –

about Julia St Cartier was processed and

contrived. Except Julia herself. From hernails to her hair extensions to her tan, shewas thoroughly artificial, yet she waspossibly the one solitary human being heknew who had always remained deeply,utterly, madly true to herself. Hercomplete lack of pretence was disarming.

‘Nick...’ She smiled broadly. ‘It’s beentoo long.’

Nick nodded, taking her hand. ‘How’sLily?’

Her eyes reflected his deep concern.‘She’s doing well – really well, Nick.She’s a survivor, like her father. She usesthat wheelchair like it’s an extension ofher own body ... She loves her school.Everything’s good.’

Nick thought back on the accident. Howlong ago had it been? It was one of the big

De Vere family parties. Lily, only seven,was exhausted, and Nick had offered todrive her home early. A huge pantechnicanhad jack-knifed in front of them from outof nowhere. They hadn’t a chance. Nick,though concussed, had only bruises andscratches, but Lily was paralysed from thewaist down. Crippled – crippled for life.He had had one beer – well below thelegal limit. Julia never needed anyconvincing that it was all beyond hiscontrol. But Jason – well, that was anothermatter. His brother hadn’t talked to himfrom that day forward.

‘Nick ... Nick?’ Julia said softly. Nickstarted, suddenly reeled back in from deepin the past. The waitress stood waitingpatiently. Julia smiled. ‘I’ll have thecrayfish tails open sandwich on brown

bread, and a glass of dry champagne.Nick shook his head. ‘Not hungry – just

a pot of Earl Grey.’ Julia frowned at him.‘I was with Adrian last week,’ she said,

as the waitress left.Nick nodded. ‘He told me. You did his

big Jordanian gig? He said you werephenomenal.’

Julia nodded. ‘It was a nightmare toorganize – but it’s great publicity forLola...’

Nick smiled. After the divorce, Juliahad decided not to return to her previousrole as chief editor of Cosmopolitan NewYork, although they had offered her anexorbitant financial package. Instead shehad returned to England and started asmall but exclusive PR events firm,running it from her new house in Chelsea.

She had named it ‘Lola’ after her belovedartistic mother, the late Lola St CartierDeschanel. It had taken off beyond herwildest dreams, with clients such as theEngland football team, Chanel, and thenewly appointed European president,Adrian De Vere.

She hesitated.‘Jason was there,’ she said softly. ‘I

saw him for the first time since thedivorce ... in Aqaba.’

‘And how is my elder brother?’ Nickasked, his eyes blank.

Julia grimaced.‘Busy – what else would Jason be?

Chasing his latest mergers, cementingdeals, drinks with the president...’

‘The US President?’ Nick raised hiseyebrows. Julia nodded. ‘He’s working

with Beijing – some huge merger withVOX Media and the Chinese government.Very complicated ... involves the WhiteHouse. Uncle Lawrence keeps me up todate; he still sees him occasionally on histrips to New York. And you? Have youheard from him?’ The waitress returnedwith the tea and champagne.

Nick shrugged his shoulders.‘Why would I hear, Jules? He cut me

off after the accident. No – never a word.Adrian keeps me in the loop, though.Thank God for Adrian.’

Julia studied Nick. ‘I know he’s beengood to you.’ She poured Nick’s EarlGrey tea into a cup.

‘Thanks, sis.’ Nick leaned back in hischair. ‘More than good, Julia – he sent meto the top clinics, paid for all my treatment

... he kept me alive.’Julia lowered her voice.‘It’s tragic about Melissa – she was so

young and beautiful – and the baby.’Nick shook his head. ‘Adrian didn’t

deserve that.’ Julia lowered her eyes.‘The medication’s working – you look

stronger.’He gave a wry smile. ‘You were

always a terrible liar, Julia. Thetreatments stopped working – it’s RussianRoulette.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m in the handsof the gods.’ He took a sip of his tea. ‘Notthat there are any gods.’

Julia bit her lip. ‘Uncle Lawrence is soproud of you,’ she said softly. ‘When Lilyand I were with him in Greece, hementioned you’d made this incredible findin Petra, but it’s been kept under wraps

for years by the Jordanian government –can’t we release it to the press? Get yousome serious mileage...’ She shook herhead.

‘God knows, Nick, your face has beensplashed over the tabloids with all theghastly inner workings of your personallife ... the cocaine and the AIDS ... Wecould get incredible mileage from this –turn the tables on the London gutter pressand paparazzi, kid. Portray you as theserious archaeologist you are.’

Nick gave her a pained look. ‘Nah, Ican’t, Jules – I’ve given my word.’

She frowned.‘I’ve taken the money. The price of

silence.’‘The Jordanian government?’ He

nodded.

‘It was huge, Jules.’ He smiledsheepishly. ‘With my trust fund frozen, Ihad to take it. God – Dad hated myrelationship with Klaus.’

‘And that pretty Jordanian princess ...the archaeologist?’ She smiled at himgently.

Nick flushed. ‘Yes.’ His eyes grewsoft. ‘She’s quite something.’ He changedthe subject abruptly. ‘Dylan Weaver’smeeting me at Terminal Four...’ Juliafrowned.

‘The brain...’ Nick prompted.‘Your old roommate?’ Distant

memories flooded back. Of Nicksurrounded by tanned, adoring Americangirls on his summer vacations in CapeCod and of the pasty, chubby spectacledboy, his best friend from Gordonstoun

College in Scotland, who would arrivewith Nick, his laptop in tow, and eat themout of house and home. Nick and Dylanhad been inseparable.

‘He still detests megalomanic Jason,’Nick grinned.

‘–but had a crush on you!’ Julialaughed. ‘That’s because I found him theonly supplier of British fish and chips andmushy peas on the entire USA East Coast!‘Nick grinned. ‘He’s chief of IT securityfor Microsoft Europe...’

Julia raised her eyebrows.‘Impressive!’ She took a long sip ofchampagne.

‘You’re meeting Uncle Lawrencetomorrow?’

‘In Alexandria, at the monastery. Howis he?’

‘He’s good – amazing for nearly eighty-six. He’s with your mother in Bali at themoment, tracking down some ancientmonstrosity for the British Museum. Heescorts her to New York, then fliesstraight out to join you in Egypt.’ Julialooked at her watch. ‘Your plane leaves infour hours. I’ll drive you to Heathrow.I’ve a working dinner appointment atHampton Court – it’s not far out of myway.’

Nick topped up his tea. ‘Thanks, sis.’He was looking forward to seeing that

tough old man that was Julia’s great uncle– ex-Jesuit priest turned CIA agent turnedantiquities expert – the enigma that wasLawrence St Cartier.

Chapter Twenty

Kerf Kenna – AD 27

It was dusk, and the flaming torches of thebridal party lit up the main street of KerfKenna. Mary, now in her mid-forties,older but still beautiful, stood with theolder women in the doorway of thebride’s house, her face radiant. She gazeddown the road, hoping for a glimpse ofJesus. There He stood, a tall, lean figurein the centre of the crowd, applauding thebridal couple loudly, swept up in thegaiety of the precedings, His facewreathed in laughter.

The handsome young prophet from

Nazareth.Mary passed the garland in her hand to

an old woman next to her, then grabbed ajar of oil and a basket of nuts, and randown the path towards her son.Immediately she was set upon by a hordeof excited children, all reaching out theirhands. She pushed her hair back from herface. Dipping her hand into the basket, shethrew the nuts and sweets high in the air.The children shrieked with exhiliration.Then one of them caught sight of Jesus.The five-year-old let out a raucous screamof delight and ran full tilt straight towardsHim, with a horde of other childrenyelling behind him. The children tugged atHis robe, their grimy hands feeling insidethe folds and bringing out handfuls ofsweetmeats. One small boy of two years

with unruly black curls, crowded out bythe bigger children and unable to reachJesus, started to cry stridently. Jesus bentdown and winked at him, secretly passinghim a sticky-looking cake.

The toddler tore the wrapping offeagerly, stuffing the cake into his mouth,his face smeared with the dark stickysubstance. Then Jesus hoisted him ontoHis shoulders, His robe still beingplundered by the other unruly youngsters.

Mary studied her son, her mindsuddenly racing back to when JesusHimself had been just such a young boy,running loudly and exuberantly to her,tugging on her garments for sweet cakesjust as the children had tonight.

How the years had flown, shepondered.

And the boy had become a man. Withmaturity His features were now strong andrefined. His eyes were still deepmercurial pools, changing hues with Hismoods as when He was very young. Attimes, like tonight, she still glimpsed thehumour and mischief of His youth. Marysmiled. He had been strong – even whenHe was small – strong-willed to the pointof stubborn when He believed He wasright. And courageous. Fiercely protectiveof those weaker than Himself.Compassionate. How the years had flown.Mary gazed at her son. He had just turnedthirty. The thick dark chestnut hair wasstreaked by the sun and still had atendency to be unruly, but now it felldown across His broad shoulders like agleaming mane. He still had His dimples,

which had never disappeared ... and thatsmile.

She shook her head. That smile thatmust have broken a thousand hearts sincethe age of four. The room became electricwhenever Jesus walked in, even as atoddler. The girls had always found Himirresistible. Her old maiden aunts bakedHim cakes and had spun childhood robesand sashes for Him. Children adored Him.His boyhood friends were ardentlydevoted to Him, and His uncle andcousins had always been fiercelyprotective of the gracious, noble child.

Her expression grew soft, as sheremembered how Jesus used to regale allHis young friends with His stories of theland of the great Rubied Door. There wasone particular dusk that particularly stood

out in her memory shortly after Jesus’sixth birthday.

Fourteen of His young friends andneighbours had gathered in the meadowbehind the small stone house, clothed intheir bright scarlet and blue tunics, sittingcross-legged in a circle. Jesus sat in thecentre, on an overturned wooden crate ofJoseph’s. Jesus’ face had shone, almostwith an unearthly glow as He told aboutan enchanted land of crystal palaces andportals that peaked into seven spires. Oflabyrinths and hanging gardens, where twosilver trees stood and where blue andsilver pomegranates grew and flowerssprang back up after being trodden on.

The band of small boys and girls fromNazareth had hung onto every syllable,entranced by the storybook land whose

streets were of transluscent gold, wherebeaches stretched for leagues of pearlsands – and a soaring crystal palace wascarved out of one immense diamond – thehome of the Great King.

Then Joseph, weary from a day’s hardwork with his hands, had come quietly andsat, as had the ageing Rabbi and histeenage pupils from the local synagogue.Mary too had stopped her spinning and satquietly under the branches of the wide,spreading fig trees to listen. She hadwatched as the strain and weariness of lifeseemed to literally ebb away from themen’s and women’s eyes and faces asJesus spoke of heavenly councils ofancient angelic monarchs, the governors ofheaven, their white hair like cascades ofspun silk falling to the floor, and golden

crowns upon their heads. And of onecalled Jether the Just, who reigned overtwenty-four. Jesus closed His eyes as Hespoke of the chief princes of heaven, thearchangels. Of the imperial Michael,commander of heaven’s armies, and nobleGabriel, the Revelator.

The breathtaking world that lay beyondthe Rubied Door. A world where no tearswere shed, no sorrow existed. A worldwhere there was no death, only love andpeace and always laughter.

And then Jesus stopped and His eyesmisted over. Mary could still hear Hisawed whisper describing the great goldenRubied Door, ablaze with light, that wasembedded into the jacinth walls of thetower – the entrance to the throne room.

And the old Rabbi’s eyes lit up with

exhilaration as he clutched the boy’s handwith his old wrinkled one, drinking inevery word. ‘Tell us again of the GreatKing of the Universe.’

And tears would well up in Joseph’seyes, and an awed stillness would fallover the giggling children, so that the onlysound was the murmuring of the doves.

‘His hair and head...’ Jesus whispered.‘...are white like snow,’ the children

murmured.‘His eyes flash...’‘Like flames of living fire,’ the children

shouted in awed unison.‘Tell us of His great and tender

compassions,’ the old Rabbi murmured.And Mary could still picture the

exquisite anguish on Jesus’ face as He hadgazed up to the heavens, His eyes filled

with adoration.‘Abba is so beautiful...’ He had

whispered in longing, staring out towardsthe cloudless blue horizon.

Remembering, Mary took in a sharpbreath. When He had been but four yearsold, she had heard Him sobbing in thenight and had rushed to Him. He had clungto her, the hot tears coursing down Hischeeks. She had raised His heart-shapedface to hers,

‘Mama! Mama!’ He had cried, hardlyable to speak for the intense sobbing. ‘Iwant the Ruby Door ... I want My Abba!The anguish of an infant separated fromHis beloved father had imprinted itself onher very soul.

She had never heard Him sob in such amanner again, but on occasion through the

years as He grew older, long aftermidnight, she would find His bed empty,and she knew that He was walking thelush Galilean hillsides under the vastglittering starry skies ... talking to Hisbeloved ‘Abba’.

She held all these things deep in herheart and pondered them. She started, herreverie broken by the loud uproar thatbroke out as the young bride neared thebridegroom’s house. A nervous-lookingyoung man was pushed forward, down thesmall dusty street by a clamouring crowdof his teenage friends. He walked towardsthe young bride and took her hand. Jesusand the crowd erupted wildly as thebridegroom conducted her into his house,walking among the excited throng andthrough the open doorway.

The dining hallroom was brilliantly litwith candelabras and lamps. Massivetables groaned under the weight of thesumptuous provisions for the seven-dayfeast. Chickens, salads, brightly colouredfruits were crammed together on thetables. A small orchestra played theirlyres for the hundreds of guests, standingor seated on couches and cushions. Thechildren and youths whirled and dancedwith unending energy in the centre of thehall.

Jesus was quickly surrounded bychildren, clutching at His hands, drawingHim towards the dancing. In no time at all,He and the children were all dancingexuberantly and out of time to the music,singing and chanting loudly and off key.Mary watched from the kitchen, shaking

her head in merriment.The orchestra stopped, and Jesus wiped

His brow. He turned to where Peter andJohn sat reclining on couches. Jesusheaved a sigh of relief and walked over toa couch and sat down, exhausted. Peterpassed Him a cup of water, then rippedthe leg off a chicken and munched on it,chewing loudly. Jesus looked at him fromunder His eyebrows. Pained. Petergrinned sheepishly.

‘Get some rest, Jesus. First the crowds,now the children ... always the children.’

Jesus removed His sandals, closed Hiseyes in bliss, and leaned His head back.

Mary gently placed her hand on Hisshoulder. ‘They have run out of wine.’

Jesus’ eyes remained closed, but Heleaned back and clasped His mother’s

work-worn hand affectionately. He wassilent a long while.

‘Dear lady, what does this matter haveto do with Me?’ He smiled.

Mary stood patiently. Waiting. Shesmiled, looking down at Him.

Finally Jesus opened His eyes and satup. He looked at her deeply. Tenderly.

‘My time is not yet come, Mother.’She saw that old mischief in His eyes

and followed His gaze over to six hugestone jars that lay nearby, customarilyused for ceremonial washing, each able tohold up to thirty gallons of water.Suddenly He smiled brilliantly.

Mary grabbed His face in her hands andkissed His forehead. Then she grasped thesteward’s arm. ‘Whatever my soninstructs you, do it!’

Huddled in the far corner, his strikingfeatures half-shadowed by the flickeringlanterns, an educated stranger from thesouth watched intently as Jesus instructedthe servants to fill the jars to the brim.

The man’s name was Judas Iscariot.* * *

Herodias reclined on her golden throne.Her butler passed her a platter of grapeswhile four young maidservants rubbedoils into her milk-white skin. She lookedlanguidly up at Herod.

‘Oh, let us winter in Macherus, Herod,my dove. I am bored beyond endurance.’She plucked a handful of grapes from theplatter. ‘And Salome will be there – wewould make sport with the Baptist.’

Herod sat deep in thought, his mind a

thousand miles away. She leaned nearerand grasped his bangled arm.

‘Stop thinking about avenging that Arabwench!’

Herod frowned. ‘Leave the Baptist, mydove. Since he was arrested my sleep hasbeen racked with strange and unsettlingdreams. Find another arena of sport ... Iimplore you!’

Herodias sat bolt upright. She wavedthe maidservants away imperiously, thenglared furiously at Herod. ‘He is vile andinsubordinate. He commits treason by hisaccusations against us. He has cursed us.The rabble of Judaea,’ she hissed, ‘theyall fall under his spell! It bodes ill for us.’

Herod walked over to the palacebalcony, staring over the gardens of theprinces, towards the lake. Herodias

walked over and joined him.‘His oratory is compelling,’ he

murmured, deep in thought.‘You are weak, Antipas.’ Herodias

pushed him from her roughly. ‘Youcouldn’t even dispose of that Arab wenchyou took as a wife.’ She spat. ‘She ranback to Papa, and now you have Aretas’bloodthirsty mob screaming for ourblood.’

She paced the balcony like a panther.‘Why can’t you be like your father –strong, decisive?’ He would have had thatBaptist’s head the first day he starteduttering his poison!’she declared.

Herod placed his hands over his head,then stood to his feet.

‘Prepare the caravan, Caspius! We willwinter in Macherus!’

* * *Lucifer sat behind his ornate mother-of-pearl desk encircled by his vast privatelibrary of angelic antiquities, hisexpression one of rare tranquility. He hadreturned to Perdition only a few moonsago and had been unexpectedly comfortedby the familiar surroundings of his BlackPalace. The unrelenting pervasive gloomof Perdition agreed with his soul and hismood, after his defeat at the hands of theNazarene. Here he could forget hishumiliation, and bury himself in hisantiquities. His music. His myriadintellectual pursuits. Away from themewling crassness of the Race of Men, hemused.

His raven tresses gleamed and fellunbraided over his favourite cadium

orange silk gown, past his shoulders. Hislong, slim fingers were bare, except for asingle golden signet ring embossed withthe royal crest of the House of Yehovah. Adeliberate token – a reminder of thepresence of the ‘Nazarene’ on his planet.

He smiled down at the magnificentyoung black panther, who lay, purring, itshead on Lucifer’s jewelled sandals. Hislatest acquisition to soothe his woundedhonour. Another reminder, this time ofEbony, his panther from aeons past in theFirst Heaven. He picked up a soft jelliedsaffron sweetmeat and placed it in hismouth, then continued writing in hisjournal, his beautiful italic lettering fillingthe linen pages.

Charsoc stood at the arched onyxentrance. A vulture shaman rested on his

left shoulder, its eyes glittered red.Charsoc bowed low. ‘There has been anincident, Your Majesty. It concerns theNazarene.’

Lucifer continued his lettering with hisleft hand, holding out his right hand toBalberith, who lifted a silver flagon filledwith exotic berry elixirs and poured theliqueur filling Lucifer’s goblet, StillLucifer did not look up.

‘Of what manner of incident do youspeak, Charsoc?’ he mumbled.

‘It seems ... Your Majesty, that therehas been a matter of transubstantiation.’

‘Speak plainly, I command you.’ Hesipped, darkness clouded his countenance.

‘The Nazarene – He is using Hispowers to change molecular ... that is, Hechanges water into wine.’

Lucifer scowled. ‘Child’s play,’ hemuttered. He dipped his quill in the purpleink and continued his lettering.

‘The terms of His status are altered byHis passing the temptations, sire. Hepassed the test as one of the Race of Men,thereby securing divine right to use Hissupernatural powers from the FirstHeaven.’ Charsoc said.

‘So the carpenter dabbles.’ Lucifershrugged.

‘We must be cautious, Your Excellency.He attracts attention. Mostly rabble, it istrue, but also those of higher standing –those of influence – our dark slaves of theRace of Men.’

Slowly, Lucifer raised his head.‘You will not let it drop, Charsoc, will

you.’ He sighed and laid down his quill,

glaring darkly at Charsoc, who stoodquietly by the window, hands behind hisback.

‘Balberith,’ Lucifer closed the softleather bound book, ‘I shall resume myjournal at the next moon.’

Balberith bowed and removed thejournal from the desk. Lucifer extricatedhis feet from beneath the panther and rosefrom his chair. He walked over to the tallloggia doors of the library, deep incontemplation, watching as thousands ofcloven-hoofed dauphin scribes rode overthe lava plains of Perdition towards theunderground crypts of the Black Palace,followed by flying eight-winged demonicscholars with red, fiendish eyes.

‘We are prudent. We prepare.’ Thepanther paced beside him, its heavy gold

collar studded with rubies. Lucifer bentdown and stroked its glossy black head.‘The gathering assembles. Prepare myceremonial robes, Balberith. I retire early.We will conspire at dawn.’

Chapter Twenty-one

AD 27

Jotapa walked across gleaming blackmarbled floors through the palacecorridors, crossing into the eastern wing,to the crown prince’s chambers. Shepushed open the doors to the huge library.Hundreds of shelves were filled withscrolls from China, India, Persia, andother distant lands.

She continued on towards the immensegilded doors of the crown prince’sbedchamber. Two of the royal guardstopped her. The lower half of their faceswere covered in thin gauze.

‘Duza!’ she cried. It was Zahi’sboyhood friend and one of her ownchildhood companions.

He shook his head gently.Jotapa grasped him by the wrist so

tightly that her nails dug into his flesh. Hegently but firmly removed her hand. Thengave her a severe look.

‘You are certain this is your choice.’‘He is my brother – my mother died in

childbirth delivering him. He is crownprince of Arabia. He is my childhoodfriend, my joy, Zahi the tender.’ Jotapa’seyes flashed. ‘I am certain this is mychoice.’

Duza bowed his head. ‘He awaits you,princess. He knew you would come.’Duza stepped aside, motioning to thesecond guard to do the same. They pushed

the doors open.Jotapa walked into the vast chamber,

and the great doors swung closed behindher with a thud.

Far across the chamber, by the farthestwindow, stood a tall, frail figure.

‘Jotapa, my princess...’ He spokesoftly. His voice was cultured, refined.

‘Beloved older sister, protector, andfriend.’

He stood unmoving at the window, hisback still towards her.

‘Zahi!’ Jotapa ran towards him.Instantly he spun around. ‘No! Jotapa!’

he cried fiercely. ‘You may not touch me!’Halfway across the room Jotapa

faltered, staring at him in horror. His facewas completely wreathed in a thin,gauzelike muslin material, as were both

his hands. Only his eyes were visible,with holes for his nose and mouth. He wasfrail, his breathing shallow.

Jotapa reached out her hands to himimploringly. Zahi stared fiercely at her,then started to unravel the muslin from oneof his hands. Jotapa stared down as thecloth dropped to the floor, then steppedback in distress and sank to her knees, hermind spinning with shock and revulsion.

Zahi’s hands were disfigured beyondrecognition. The long, slim fingers thatonce penned beautiful Syriac and Aramaicletters on his library scrolls were coveredwith nodules and partially rotted away.Where his thumb had been, only a bloodystump remained.

Tears rolled down Jotapa’s cheeks. Shestared up at Zahi with passion, watching

as the gauze that covered his face grewwet with his hot fierce tears.

They exchanged a long intense glance;then Zahi unfastened the muslin. His lipsand ears were distended, swollen threetimes beyond their natural size, his lashesand eyebrows gone from his staring eyes.She lowered her eyes from his hideousdisfigurement.

There was a soft knock and Duzaentered, followed by Aretas’ mostprominent royal physician, accompaniedby a swarthy stranger. Jotapa knew atonce, by the immense height of his turbanand the length of his sleeves, that he was aBabylonian physician or magician of greatimportance.

Aretas’ physician bowed deeply to her.‘We greet you, princess. Abu Mansur,

great priest and choice physician of thecaliph of Persia, has traversed the greatdeserts and the great waters to be ourguest. He brings with his ointments themedicines of the great Indian physicianSushruta for the treatment of leprosy:chaulmoogra oil.’

Jotapa stood silent, then walked over toZahi, clasped him to her, and kissed himon the head. She strode out of the room,followed by Duza.

She turned to Duza, her hands plantedon her slim waist, her head held high.‘When did my father last visit mybrother?’ Duza looked at her but did notreply.

‘When, Duza? You must tell me.’Duza lowered his eyes to the floor.‘I command you. Speak, Duza.’

‘You command me as a princess or as afriend?’

Jotapa sighed. ‘As a friend,’ she saidsoftly. ‘–a friend of both myself and mybrother.’

Duza nodded. There was a long silence.‘He has not entered these chambers for

almost five years, Your Majesty.’Jotapa stepped back in horror.

‘Sacrilege!’ she cried.This time Duza grasped her arm so

tightly that she winced. He would not letgo. ‘Do you not comprehend? It is hisfirstborn son, the precious fruit of hisloins. It is his agony that prevents hiscoming here. He came each dusk anddawn for four years, till it broke his heartand he could no longer bear it.’

‘I cannot accept it!’ Jotapa cried.

‘Accept it, Jotapa!’ Duza’s voice wasvery stern; he would not let her go. ‘Yourfather spends his royal fortunes scouringthe East for the most prominent physiciansand magicians. He spends lavish moniesand his vast royal treasuries on thesepriests, physicians, pharmacists, andconjurers – renowned healers such as yousaw today. He leaves no stone unturned inthe hope...’

Duza faltered.Jotapa glared at him. ‘There is no hope,

Duza!’ she cried.’ His doom is sealed.These tricksters, these magicians, theseparasites who would bleed my father drywith their potions...’

She broke off in mid sentence as Duzapaled visibly and dropped to one knee.

Jotapa turned. Zahi stood in the

entrance, a terrible sorrow in his eyes.Duza stared at Jotapa. Incensed.Zahi looked down at Jotapa with pity.‘Beloved sister,’ he whispered, ‘while

we have breath, there is hope...’Jotapa knelt, clasping his hand, her

tears falling down onto the freshbandages.

‘The Babylonian Rab Mag Daniel’swritings speak of the unknown God...’Zahi whispered, staring past her outtowards the shimmering dusk skies, astrange ecstacy in his gaze.

‘One day He will find me.’

Chapter Twenty-two

Gerasene

Jesus stepped out of the boat at Gerasene,onto the narrow shore. The horizon wasbarely visible, obscured from view by thestrange haze suddenly descended overGalilee, the residue of far-flung sandstorms from Arabia. He stared upward atthe stark cliffs rising above Him, then bentdown and cupped His hands in the lappinglake, drenching His face in the cool,refreshing water. He pushed His long darkhair off His forehead, exhausted, theearlier feverish activity of the day startingto take its toll.

The young stranger from the wedding inCana walked towards Him across thesand, clutching a large sheaf of papyri.

‘Documents, papyri,’ Peter grumbled.‘Always something to write or sign ... Youknow why he was missing last night,Master? He was counting money again.Only twenty-three, and he acts like agrandmother.’

Thomas glared at him. ‘He is able andprudent, with the gift of administration –something you lack.’

‘Someone has to count the money,Peter,’ Jesus said. ‘He has left both hiseducation and his possessions in the southto serve our cause. Let us be generous.’

Judas ignored Peter. ‘The agreements,Master. The tax collectors pester me; theyeye our purse with relish. The deadlines

approach. These must be dealt with.’Jesus lifted His hand wearily. ‘Leave it

until the morning, Judas ... The documentscan wait.’

Judas uttered an ill-concealed sigh ofexasperation.

Jesus placed His hand gently on hisarm, and immediately Judas’s expressionsoftened. ‘Forgive me, Jesus, it is onlythat...’ He looked deeply into Jesus’ eyesin respect.

‘That we are always so busy.’ Jesusfinished the sentence softly, looking intothe ardent young face.

Judas nodded. ‘You are always pressedfor time. The crowds demand all Yourattention, so I grasp any opportunity thatpresents itself. It is important that You –that the organization is without reproach in

all we do ... that the Pharisees andSadducees find no deficiencies in ourrecords.’

Jesus nodded. ‘We must adhere to therules.’ A faint smile glimmered on Hislips. He looked at Judas compassionately,as though at a young child lacking inunderstanding.

Judas frowned. ‘You know that I wouldgive my life for the cause. I am totallycommitted,’ he clasped Jesus’ shoulder,‘...to You, Master.’

Jesus looked at him for a long moment.‘Yes, Judas, I know this. I give you Myword. Tomorrow morning, before wecross to the far side of Galilee.’

Judas pressed Jesus’ hand ingratitude.’Thank You...’ Jesus raised Hishand to quiet him, as though hearing

something. Slowly He turned. Standing bythe jagged, rough-hewn tombs at thebottom of the cliffs, completely naked,was a deranged man, staring directly atJesus. He was filthy and bleeding, pusoozed from hundreds of rough cuts andweals all across his chest and thighs. Onone wrist and both feet were broken ironfetters, the chains still dragging behindhim on the sand. He stood, foaming at themouth and snarling.

Jesus slowly raised His head, givingthe man the full force of His gaze.

A terrible, unintelligible roaring rosefrom the naked figure, and he fell down atJesus’ feet in mortal terror.

Jesus moved a step nearer.‘What have You to do with me, Jesus?’

he screamed, holding his hands over his

head as though in intense pain. ‘Son of themost high God!’ he shrieked insanely,dragging himself across the jagged rocksto the cliffs, battering his matted headagainst the hard grey boulders.

Judas watched, ashen. Peter and Johnlooked on in fascination.

‘I beg you!’ he screamed. ‘Do nottorment me!’

Jesus held His hand towards the man’shead, and Judas watched, mesmerized, asa thousand demons, looking like fiendish,clawed vapours appeared.

‘What is your name?’ Jesuscommanded.

The wild man opened his lips.‘Legion,’ growled a thousand darkdecadent depraved voices in unison.

Judas nearly fell over Peter and

Thomas as they all scrabbled back acrossthe sand, sheltering behind a large rock,staring at Jesus and the demoniac, horror-struck.

‘Leave him!’The screaming changed in tone to high-

pitched terror, the wild man clutched hishead, screaming as thousands ofblackened, dissolute, gnarled figuresmaterialized from the wild man’s breath.

‘Reveal yourself!’ Jesus demanded.The twisted ghoulish figures transformedone by one into fallen angelic beings – amonstrous horde of Lucifer’s fallen.Nearly six thousand. Their tangled straw-coloured hair fell over their pock-markedfaces, their red eyes glinted in terror.Intent on the Nazarene. The fallen legionwaited. Jesus stood, His linen robes

billowed in the wind. He raised His arm.‘Not the Abyss ... Christos, we beseech

You!’ wailed the voices.The strapping leader of the monstrous

horde stepped forward. ‘I am Daemuk,’ herasped, ‘General of the 102nd legion. Mymaster is Folcador, Grand Duke of hell.’He fell down on one knee before Jesus,his head bowed. ‘I beg You, Christos. Donot banish us, the fallen, to the Abyssbefore the time.’

Jesus moved nearer. Daemuk claspedhis head in agony.

‘You invade My kingdom. You defilethe Race of Men.’ Jesus replied, Hisvoice unyielding.

Daemuk gestured to a herd of swinefeeding on the mountain.

‘Suffer us, the fallen, to inhabit the

swine, Christos.’Jesus closed His eyes, then lifted His

arm. ‘Go!’ He commanded, His voiceblacker than thunder.

Judas watched from the shelter of therock in wonder, trembling, as the horde ofthe fallen vanished and immediately theherd of swine ran violently over the edgeof the cliff drowning in the deep watersbelow.

Jesus pushed His dark locks from Hiseyes, staring out across the Sea of Galilee.‘The tyranny of Satan nears its end. TheFirst Judgement hastens.’

* * *From above the skies and from under theearth they flew – the menacing powers ofevil and terror – to the crypts of the

Underlords beneath Lucifer’s BlackPalace on the desolate smouldering, lavawastes at the edge of hell.

The Darkened Councils of hell weregathered.

Charsoc stood before the greatassembly.

‘My Master, Lucifer, crowned satan,only true King of the World, welcomesyour presence.’

Dagon and Lucifer’s elite guard drewback a huge magenta curtain, revealingLucifer, all glorious, seated on the Seat ofSatan in the Great Chamber of theUnderlords. He was dressed in his whiteceremonial robes fringed with ermine. Hisdiamond crown rested on his raven hair.He held his sceptre in his right hand, thegreat damson ring of Satan on his ring

finger.‘We are here with only one aim,’ he

declared, slowly surveying the greatassembly of thousands of the dark rulersof the world.

‘To cut short the days of the Nazarene.’A great and terrible roar erupted across

the Great Chamber as the great satanicgenerals of hell stood to their feet,followed by the thousand stooped hoodedDarkened Councils, and the NecromancerKings.

Lucifer lifted his hand. Instantly silencefell. They bowed as one, and sat.

Marduk walked forward.‘On behalf of our Emperor, Satan, I call

upon mighty Philosopher and King of theWestern Region of Hell – Chief Elder ofthe Underlords – Gaap.’

A stooped, hooded figure limped to thefront of the assembly. Slowly, he removedthe cowled hood from his head. Hisravaged face was plastered with largepox-like indentations, his thin scholar’shands covered with strawberrybirthmarks. He lifted his eyes to Lucifer’srevealing colourless irises. His eyebrowsand eyelashes were absent.

‘I pledge my allegiance, O greatMaster, Satan,’ he crooned, ‘Myarchivists have studied the codices – it isevident – that after passing the contest atMount Quarnel...’

Gaap brought his head nearer toLucifer’s.

‘Each day that He remains on the planetearth – your Excellency – He becomes agreater threat to your role as Emperor ...

and our reign in the affairs of Men.’An evil smile played on his thin

colourless lips. ‘We must cut His timeshort.’

The Great Doors of the Chamber flungopen. Grand Duke Focalar stood in theentrance, hell’s fearsome Great Duke andLucifer’s finest general, a ferociousdemon with the face of an angel and thewings of a griffin. He strode up the GreatChamber aisle and bowed before Lucifer,stooping to kiss the great damson ring ofSatan.

‘I return from Earth, my Emperor.’Focalar glowered at him from under hishuge knitted eyebrows. ‘Your kingdom hasbeen pillaged.’ Lucifer frowned.

Focalar paced, his hand clasping hissword. ‘I was summoned too late. An

entire legion banished ... threatened withthe Abyss by one of the Race of Men!’

‘To the Abyss?’Charsoc questioned.‘None of the Race of Men has the powerto banish the fallen to the Abyss...’ Hestopped short, catching sight of Lucifer’sface.

‘Except the Nazarene!’ Lucifer spat.‘The Nazarene relented, sire,’ Focalar

growled. ‘The disembodied spiritsentered a herd of pigs. They drowned.’

‘How many are lost?’ Lucifer’s voicewas barely audible.

Focalar hesitated, then lowered hiseyes to the floor.

‘An entire legion, Your Worship. Oneconsummate in defiling those of the Raceof Men.’

Lucifer stood and walked slowly to the

Great Windows, staring out at the Lavaplains.

‘What next?’ he muttered. ‘He willmobilize grand armies against me ... plotmy annihilation ... He invades mykingdom. Where will this end?’

He turned, surveying the Councils, thengestured to a hooded figure dressed inpale garments who sat hunched onCharsoc’s left.

‘His Excellency calls Nisroc theancient. Keeper of hell and death.’Marduk proclaimed.

Nisroc rose from the assembly andbowed deeply in reverence.

‘Relay to your Emperor, O Nisroc, thelegalities of Eternal Law.’

Nisroc spoke from under his silkenhood, his voice spun like silk.

‘The legalities that are in enforcementregarding the Race of Men as pertaining toEternal Law prevent those who are fallenspirits from directly taking the life of oneof the Race of Men, your Excellency.’

Lucifer nodded. ‘Of this I am aware, ONisroc the Prudent.’

The ancient Necromancer nodded.‘We, the fallen, are bound by Eternal

Law. Only one from the Race of Men canextinguish the life of one of the Race ofMen.’

Nisroc bowed in reverence and sat.Charsoc drew his head near to

Lucifer’s.‘We must find one of the Race of Men

who will do our bidding. Who will heedour voice, the voice of the fallen.’

Zilith, governor of the demonic

scholars, stood.‘Your majesty, in compliance with your

instructions, my demonic scholars havebeen examining the way of the Nazareneand those that surround Him. The religiouspowers in Jerusalem seek power. Hethreatens their authority. The massesdesert them and instead follow theNazarene’s compelling oratories.’

Zilith stroked his faustian beard. ‘Hehas few friends in high places.’

‘And many enemies, your Majesty.’Darsoc of the Grey Magi stood. ‘The onewho leads they call Caiaphas is weak andambitious,’ he hissed. ‘My magi seek himout.’

Lucifer paced up and down. ‘We needto strike where he is vulnerable...’

‘Your Excellency,’ Dracul, ruler of the

iniquitous Warlock Kings of the Weststood, then bowed, ‘we have found awilling and fervent disciple in he whomthey call Judas. One of the twelve. He isvain and politically ambitious...’ Dracul’scat-like eyes glittered with malice fromunder his black hood. ‘With a weaknessfor gold...’

‘Each day that the Nazarene lives is athreat to my kingdom.’ Lucifer raised hissceptre high. ‘Release your evil magi. FillIscariot’s dreams with disturbance.Highlight every weakness. Stir up thosearound Caiaphas. We cut his time short!’

Chapter Twenty-three

Subterfuge

Jotapa sat at her dressing table in herroyal quarters. Her maidservant, Ghaliya,braided her long, dark tresses with deftbirdlike movements of her fingers.

‘Ghaliya...’ Jotapa paused, thenlowered her voice. ‘You have anotherletter from your cousin?’

Ghaliya nodded, walked towards thedoor, and closed it quietly, then took out afolded missive from her apron pouch.Jotapa frowned inquiringly. Ghaliyanodded, her eyes aflame.

‘It is news of Him!’ Jotapa grabbed it

eagerly. She clutched Ghaliya’s hand asshe devoured the contents of the missive.‘They say he is a king,’ she murmured,‘...a king of the Jews. You must tell me,Ghaliya. Tell me everything. I mustknow!’

Ghaliya deftly wove fresh orchids andgardenias through Jotapa’s hair as shespoke. ‘The stories that circulate – theyare...’ Ghaliya held her hand to her mouth.

Jotapa nodded impatiently. ‘Yes, yes,go on!’

Ghaliya lowered her voice. ‘They saythat blind eyes see,’ she whispered, ‘...thatthe lame walk..’

Jotapa covered her mouth in ecstasy.‘That even the dead are raised!’‘He is not of this world – He has a

strange powerful magic – I knew it was

so!’ She hesitated. ‘And the bold holy man... he is still admonishing my husband?’

‘He condemns your husband’s marriageto Herodias as unlawful. A sin againstyourself and against God. After thewedding, Herod had him seized. He isimprisoned in Macherus.’

‘Imprisoned!’ Jotapa’s eyes widened inhorror. ‘This Baptist – he is a follower ofthis Jesus, also?’

Ghaliya nodded. She lowered her voiceand put her mouth to Jotapa’s ear. ‘I heardit said in the palace kitchen that our Jesusof Nazareth called your husband, HerodAntipas...’ Ghaliya giggled. Jotapa raisedher eyebrows. ‘...a fox!’

‘The Hebrew is a man of discernment!’Jotapa laughed out loud. Her expressiongrew distant. ‘I wonder if He realized he

is my husband.’She swung around and placed her head

close to Ghaliya’s.‘And what of these followers?’ She

hesitated. ‘Those who use the sign?’‘They are everywhere, in every station

– even Herod Antipas’s house steward inthe royal palace is a follower.’

‘That sombre Chuza?’ Jotapa shook herhead in disbelief.

Ghaliya nodded vehemently. ‘His wife,Joanna ... she travels everywhere withJesus and ministers to Him out of her ownfunds.’

‘Chuza holds tightly to his purse – hewould never allow it!’

‘He is transformed, princess,’answered Ghaliya. ‘He is now the mosttolerant of husbands...’ She stopped in mid

sentence and bowed her head.Jotapa looked at her quizzically. ‘Go

on, Ghaliya.’ She clasped her hand. ‘It issafe.’

Ghaliya wiped the corners of her eyeswith her apron.

‘...since the Hebrew healed his son,’she whispered.

Jotapa shook her head in wonder. ‘Hehealed his son...’ she repeated slowly,rising to her feet.

She glided over the marble floors,through the open balcony doors onto theornate portico, staring out for a long timetowards the west wing, deep incontemplation. Slowly, she turned toGhalilya who was hovering by the doors.‘If the Hebrew can heal Joanna’s son...’She looked at Ghaliya, an inspired gleam

in her eyes, then lowered her voice.‘...He can heal Zahi!’Ghaliya stared at her in shock.‘But ... your Majesty...’She turned her palm upwards to

Ghaliyia, pointing to the tiny scar.‘We have to take him to Him. We will

go to Jerusalem!’Ghaliya started. ‘But, Your Majesty,

your former husband, Herod Antipas – ifhe discovers you...’

Jotapa swept away her protestationswith a wave of her hand. ‘Herod stays atMacherus and in Tiberias at Galilee.Jerusalem is far from his thoughts; of this Iam assured.’ Her face flushed withexcitement. She strode back into herchambers, her face lit with exhilaration.‘We will take Zahi to Him, Ghalilya. He

will be healed; I know it!’Ghalilya stared at Jotapa open-

mouthed.‘Call Ayeshe, that he may make

preparations. Duza will assist us in thesubterfuge. My father does not visit Zahiin his chambers – he will not know of hisabsence. I will tell the king that I go tolook after his interests in the incense andspice trade in Jerusalem. I am in charge ofmuch of his household – it is a believablerequest. Tell your cousin we make hastefor Jerusalem. Let her alert Joanna of ourcoming. It is the Jews’ Passover feast –we shall not be recognized in the crowd.We go to Jerusalem – that we may find theHebrew.’

Chapter Twenty-four

The Veil

‘The Wort Seers of Diabolos have seen aportent.’ Marduk said. ‘A veil.’ Hepassed the missive to Charsoc who held itgingerly with his gloved hand andcarefully opened it. A thin black wisp ofhemlock snaked upward. Charsoc scannedthe page.

‘Tell me about this veil.’‘It is a veil of the Race of Men of the

Hebrews,’ Marduk replied. ‘It hangs inJerusalem in what is termed the MostHoly Place. In their temple.’

‘The veil’s purpose?’ Charsoc’s tone

was sharp.‘As is common knowledge to the fallen,

since our Emperor’s supreme triumph inthe East of Eden, the Race of Men havebeen cut off from direct access toYehovah’s presence.’

Charsoc waved Marduk on impatiently.‘Due to their fallen estate, the slightest

direct contact with the power and lightemanating from Yehovah will kill those ofthe Race of Men instantly. The veil thathangs in the Most Holy Place acts as theirprotection on the rare occasion whenYehovah would choose to visit their HighPriest. The veil serves as a reminder thatthe Race of Men’s iniquities render themunfit for the presence of Yehovah.’

‘So...’ Charsoc fingered the missive,deep in contemplation, ‘the veil acts as a

divide between the Race of Men andYehovah’s presence. It holds no sorceriesof its own.’

‘It holds no sorceries.’Charsoc folded the missive.‘Dispatch our scouts to investigate it. I

will inform our Emperor.’* * *

Herod Antipas lay back on a soft mountainof vermillion and oyster satin cushions,staring up, half-intoxicated, at the scantilyclad young Ethiopian girl who slavishlyplucked grapes and placed them on histongue. A second girl, whose skin waspale as milk, sliced a pomegranate andlaid the slices sensuously across his chest.His jewelled crown lay awry on his head,and his hair was dishevelled. The juices

from grapes and fruits dripped from hismouth onto the expensive embroiderednapkins draped across his chest.

His gaze fell to the hundreds of elegantpot-bellied Roman senators and Galileannobles sitting at his lavish tables weigheddown with the finest meats and fowl anddelicacies from all around the Galileanprovinces. He watched, satisfied, as hisfinest generals drank goblets of the finestwines, while a hundred courtiers flankedthe great hall, serving the guests’ everywhim.

A score of voluptuous dancing women,procured from every corner of the RomanEmpire, whirled sensuously across thewide marbled floors. Herod lay back,eyeing Herodias, who sat like an Egyptiancat, erect and arrogant.

‘Your birthday,’ she purred, ‘is anoccasion to be remembered by all. Itshould be the spectacle of Galilee, ofPalestine ... of Rome...’

‘Administrators, rich landowners, civicleaders and my army commanders – why,Herodias, you have excelled yourself, mydove.’

Herod brought her small delicatepainted fingernails to his rouged lips andkissed them.

‘Ah, but, my Antipas, the best is yet tocome.’

The entire hall suddenly quieted as thelanterns were dimmed and the musicchanged from its throbbing, incessantrhythm to one slower and more sensual.Then from a dais came a slim, lithe form,her pale alabaster skin shining through the

seven veils of sheer pale rose voileswathed around her sensuous form – sosheer that Herod’s eyes stayed riveted toher as she swayed rhythmically in time tothe music.

Her waist-length black hair swayedagainst her bare back to the music as herhands moved across her body, discardingeach layer of sheer material until shestood clad only in the seventh sheer veil.She reached down and sensually caressedhis swollen pot-bellied abdomen, thenraised the last veil from her face,revealing the high cheekbones, the sensualcrimson lips.

Herod put his hands over his face.‘Enough! Enough!’ he cried, clapping

loudly and slowly, until the entire GreatHall was on its feet, applauding.

‘More! More!’ they cried.Herod motioned for her to sit next to

him.Herodias watched, alert, and nodded to

Salome.Salome sat down next to her stepfather

on the satin pillows, drinking from hisgoblet and sharing his sweetmeats,whispering diabolical enticements into hisear.

Suddenly Herod rose, swaying in hissemi-drunken stupor. He clapped hishands loudly, and instantly the musicstopped.

He gestured to Salome to stand on thedais, then walked tipsily up to her. ‘Ask ofme whatever you will, and I will give it tothee. I swear it this night, by the gods!Whatever you ask of me, stepdaughter, I

will give it thee, unto the half of mykingdom.’

A cold smile glimmered on Herodias’sface. She and Salome stole from thebanqueting hall outside, through theprivate corridor and into her opulentchambers.

Salome sat on Herodias’s luxuriousbed, wrapping the purple perfumed silksheets around her in triumph. Herodiasscrutinized her own fading beauty in thehand glass, then turned to examineSalome’s fresh, pert features.

‘What shall I ask for, Mama?’ Salomegiggled. ‘Up to half the kingdom!’

‘The old dithering fool,’ Herodias spat.Salome paled. She knew to avoid her

mother’s violent tantrums at any cost. Shesat on the bed, suddenly silent.

Herodias nodded. ‘We shall silence theBaptist and his vile accusations forever.No longer shall he turn your stepfather andhis subjects in Judaea against me, hisrightful wife,’ she hissed. ‘We mustpreserve our place at the court; we canbrook no interference by that viper. Hemust be silenced. Your very futuredepends on his being dead. Now, go backto Herod and ask for the head of John theBaptist!’

Salome gasped. Then a small wickedsmile played on her lips. She hurried backthrough the great hall, then stood beforeHerod, demure and sweet-faced.

Herod laughed loudly. ‘You havechosen – so what is it to be, my sweet? Upto half my kingdom – was there ever sucha generous father!’

Salome curtseyed.‘Oh, Herod, great and just – and true to

your vow,’ her voice was soft but clear, ‘Iwill that thou would give me the head ofJohn the Baptist on a silver platter.’

Herod paled. He shrank in disgust fromSalome, appalled. Then he turned to facethe great hall, looking first at the senators,then at the merchants, until his gazestopped at his generals.

‘I cannot, Salome. Anything ... anythingbut the Baptist’s head – my treasuries, myjewels, Salome ... my palaces, even, Ibeseech you...’

Salome stared past Herod to theentrance of the great hall, far in thedistance, to where Herodias stood, a slim,shadowed figure.

Herod followed her gaze. ‘He is a

righteous man,’ he muttered. ‘Not worthyof death.’

Herodias slid over the floors, thensidled up to him, whispering into his ear.‘You made a vow, O great Herod, and avow must be fulfilled.’

Herod bunched his fists, snapped out ofhis drunken state, his mind whirling.

‘The Baptist has done nothing worthy ofdeath. I cannot.’ Chuza, his house steward,tried desperately to catch the eye ofJoanna, who was praying under herbreath.

‘You are weak, Antipas.’ Herodias’simperious whisper seemed to reverberateinto every corner of the great hall.

He started. She grasped his bangledarm, her violent, uncontrolled temperrising. ‘He turns the rabble against us.

They hate us – they loathe me ... They spitat my carriage in the streets when I pass –I, wife of the tetrarch of Judaea! It is hispoison; his tongue is as a viper’s.’

Herod stood like stone.‘And what of your guests?’ she hissed.

‘What will they say when they leaveHerod’s palace – that he was a man tooweak and inadequate to keep his vow?’

Herod’s arms dropped like leadweights to his side. He sat down, his handshaking so violently that he could scarcelyhold his wine cup.

‘Malchus,’ he ordered in a weak,unsteady voice, ‘take the guard to theBaptist’s cell in Macherus and executehim.’

‘And bring us his head on a charger!’Herodias screamed.

* * *Lucifer stood on the roof of the EasternWing that housed Perdition’s royalaviaries, in front of hundreds of colossalgilded hell cages, feeding his pet carrionscavenger scouts from a large silver urnfilled with freshly killed mansouth liver.

Charsoc bowed before him. ‘I requestan audience, m’Lord.’

Lucifer washed his bloodied hands in abowl that Balberith held out to him, thendried his hands fastidiously on anembroidered napkin passed to him by acourtier. He flung the napkin onto thefloor, then walked towards Charsoc.

‘The Wort Seers of Diabolos have seena portent, your Majesty.’ Charsoc bowedagain. ‘A portent they say is related to theNazarene. A veil.’

Lucifer stopped in his tracks.‘The veil that hangs in the Hebrews’

temple,’ Charsoc continued.‘That veil...’ Lucifer’s expression grew

dark. ‘It hangs in the Holy of Holies.’ Hetore the missive from Charsoc’s grasp.‘The lone place on this planet whereYehovah trespasses and visits with theRace of Men.’ He scanned the missive.‘The Wort Seers foretell it bodes ill formy kingdom.’ Lucifer frowned. ‘They sawit torn.’

‘It would be a most arduous task to tear,m’Lord,’ Charsoc replied. ‘My scoutsreport it is a most unwieldy lookingshroud. Forty cubits long, twenty wide, ofthe thickness of one cubit and wrought inseventy-two squares. It needs at leastthree hundred priests to manipulate it. It

has been said in the Race of Men thatbulls tied to each side would not be ableto rip the veil apart.’

‘Yet my finer instincts tell me the WortSeers have seen truly – that it holdssignificance to Yehovah and the HighCouncil in the affairs of the Race of Men.But torn ... why would it be torn?’ Luciferpaced up and down the eastern elevation,pensive.

‘It protects them..’ he muttered.‘without it the Race of Men would bestruck dead from the radiation ofYehovah’s presence.’ He turned toCharsoc. ‘Instruct the Black Murmurers towatch over this veil. Tell Marduk toreport to me immediately of any unusualhappenings.’ Charsoc bowed.

‘You word is my command, Your

Excellency. I instruct the BlackMurmurers immediately.’

Lucifer walked to the edge of the upperPavilions, gazing over the desolatesmouldering, lava wastes of hell thatstretched as far as the eye could see. Helooked down at the missive still in hispalm, then raised his head to the paleamber horizon. Strangely troubled.

Chapter Twenty-five

The Hebrew

They stood silent on the steps of thetemple in Jerusalem. Zahi, his facewrapped in cloth, rode in the carriage,veiled from view. Ghaliya sat on theopposite side, playing the rich merchant’swife, with Jotapa, heavily disguised in amaidservant’s veils, at her right hand, nextto Ayeshe.

‘Zerubbabel’s temple,’ Jotapawhispered. ‘Zahi, look – see how Herodhas spent vast sums on its beautification.’She stopped in mid sentence as a hugeoutcry erupted from the outer court of the

temple.There was a sound of loud shouting and

the crashing of tables onto the templefloor.

A familiar voice raged like thunder.‘You den of thieves! You dare to makeMy Father’s house a house of merchandise– a bazaar! Your incessant haggling – yourprofiteering from the poor...!’

Dove sellers and moneychangersscattered like geese through the Court ofthe Gentiles, past the carriage and Jotapa.Sacrificial sheep and oxen milled aboutand ran through the temple courtyard, tothe sound of more crashing ... then silence.

Hundreds of onlookers gathered outsidethe entrance to the outer court. Waiting.Jotapa watched, fascinated, from behindher veil as a tall, lean, fierce-looking

figure walked wearily out through thetemple doors and across the templecourtyard, a makeshift whip of cordsclasped tightly in His hands. She drew aninvoluntary gasp. Yes, it was Him – but –Why – He somehow looked much youngerthan her memories of their encounter in thedesert. He could barely be thirty.

She studied the man on the temple steps.Then frowned, perplexed. Today therewas no trace of the humour or compassionshe had seen in the wilderness. Hishandsome features were grim, the strongchin set. She sighed deeply, lowering hereyes. She had initially found the Hebrewattractive ... dangerously attractive. ButJotapa was gifted with Aretas’ pragmaticshrewdness – she was no fool and she hadsensed instantly that He was unavailable.

She had known from their encounter in thedesert that His only and overridingpassion, like the monks of old, was HisGod. There would be no woman in theHebrew’s life – of this she was somehowcertain. She studied Him curiously. Hisdark eyes flashed like lightning as Hewiped the tears from His eyes with theback of His hand – tears of anger, she wassure. She smiled faintly ... tears ofpassion.

Why was He so incensed?She turned to Zahi, bewildered. Zahi

gestured towards the temple.‘The temple of the Hebrews has always

been a great national treasury,’ he saidquietly, his voice muffled somewhat bythe thin gauze cloth. ‘Its vaults containimmense stores of private wealth. The

deposits never sit idle, Jotapa. They areloaned at the very highest rates of interestby their moneychangers. I know from oursources that the temple archives inJerusalem reveal inconceivable debtsowed by the poor to the rich.It is not apretty picture. The Jewish authorities arehated by the commoners. The Hebrew isdiscerning.’ Zahi paused. ‘Andcourageous.’

Jotapa stared, transfixed, as a small boynot more than four years of age, caughtsight of Jesus and instantly wrestledhimself away from his mother’s grasp,tearing across the pavement over to Jesus,nearly knocking Him over in hisexcitement. The boy latched on to Jesus’legs and buried his head in His robe.Jotapa watched, fascinated, as the terrible

fierceness dissolved from Jesus’ features.He drew the boy to Him and placed Hishand gently on his head, His eyes gazingdistantly ahead. The lash slipped from Hishand onto the pavement. He tousled theboy’s head, then shook his mane of longdark hair out of his eyes and surveyed thecourtyard. Still grim. Then drew a deepsigh.

Jotapa watched a dark striking youngman who stood just behind Him, tremblingwith ill-concealed rage.

‘Master...’ The younger man grippedJesus’ shoulder fiercely. Too fiercely.

Jesus turned to face him, and instantlyJudas loosed his grip. Pale.

‘Master,’ he implored, ‘the authorities... I worked so hard – they were justcoming to accept You ... to accept the

cause. You withdraw Yourself to Galileewhen You could have been crowned king,and they think You’re in flight. ... Yourefuse to show Yourself openly, thenpublicly challenge the Pharisees – it allbodes ill, Master.’

Judas stepped back, taking in the sceneof overturned tables and smashedmerchandise. He put his hands to his head.

‘We’ll never set foot in the templeagain ... We’re ruined. Some are evensaying You have a demon!’ He threw hishands up in sheer frustration. ‘I know Youare the Messiah, I believe in the cause’ –he gestured at Peter and the otherdisciples – ‘more than these men, withtheir incessant petty bickering. I would diefor the cause. I would die for You, Jesus.You could put it right. Just take up their

challenge and show them one sign fromheaven,’ he pleaded.

‘The fear of man is a snare to ourcause.’ Jesus turned His face to him.Forbidding.

‘And a snare to you, Judas Iscariot,’ Hestated quietly.

Judas stared at him as though he hadbeen literally lashed across the face. Hottears rose in his eyes. He stepped back.For a fleeting moment, Jotapa thought shesaw a vulnerability in Jesus, but as fast asit appeared, a terrible weariness took itsplace, as though He bore the weight of thewhole world.

Then Jesus gathered the child in Hisarms, walked straight past Judas andhanded the child gently to a large ruddy-faced man. ‘We will depart for

Capernaum, Peter,’ He said quietly; thenHe walked across the courtyard, towardsthe street.

‘Let us go, princess,’ Ghaliyawhispered nervously. But Jotapa wasrooted to the ground. She shook her head,her gaze fixed on Jesus.

‘No, we stay!’ she declared. ‘We knowwhy we are here.’

All at once as Jesus left the templesteps, throngs of men, women and childrenflocked around Him, clutching at His robe,His feet, His hands, until even Hisdisciples could hardly make a path forHim through the crowd.

Jesus studied the faces close to Him,His eyes filled with compassion. Jotapawatched as an old woman clungdesperately to the fringes of His robe, then

stumbled in the shoving, pressing crowd.The woman lay, tears streaming down herface, fallen in the dust of the street. Hertears turned to loud, heaving sobs; then alook of shock came over her countenanceand she started both to laugh and cry, as ifshe had lost her mind.

The crowd continued to push towardsJesus, pressing in on Him from every side,when He held up His hand. ‘Who is it –who touched Me?’ His eyes scanned theraucous, pushing crowd.

Men and women vigorously shook theirheads, but Jesus pushed through theclamouring men and women until He stoodover the old woman, still lying on theground. The woman looked up at Him,trembling.

‘You touched Me?’

She nodded. ‘I suffered a flow of bloodfor twelve years, Master.’ She clung toHis hands. ‘I spent all my money, my lifesavings, on physicians, and still I grewworse, until–’

‘Healing virtue went out of Me.’‘Just now, in the crowd, I tried to touch

You, Master, but the crowds ... I havebeen so weak, but I clung on to the veryfringe of Your robe. Then I was sweptaway by the crowds. But ... but thebleeding stopped.’ She gazed up at Him inadoration. ‘I am made whole!’

A brilliant smile spread across Jesus’face. His expression softened and He kneltdown until His face was directly in linewith the old woman’s. Tenderly He tookher face in His hands.

Jotapa turned to Zahi. His face was

pushed right up against the window,drinking in the entire scene. Jotapa saw afleeting ray of hope in the eyes that hadbeen without hope for so many years. Sheleft the carriage and ran nearer, muchnearer the crowd.

‘Old mother, your faith has healed you,’Jesus murmured gently, then drew the oldwoman to His bosom. Tears ran down thewrinkled face as He tenderly kissed thetop of her grey head. ‘Go in peace.’

The old woman clung to His hands,covering them with kisses, her facetransformed. For a fleeting moment shewas beautiful.

That’s it , thought Jotapa, observingHim in wonder. He makes us all beautiful– old and young, man and woman, boyand girl. It was almost a kind of sorcery –

she considered – and yet not sorcery atall.

And then Jesus turned. He stareddirectly at her. She was certain of it.

Jotapa frowned. It could not be – shewas too well disguised as anoblewoman’s maidservant to berecognized. She turned to look behind her,then turned back.

Jesus was walking towards them. Shefrowned. She turned to Ghaliya, then backto the tall lean figure drawing rapidlycloser. He continued His staring directlyat her. There was no doubting it.

‘My greetings to the house of Aretas,daughter of the king of Arabia.’

He seemed amused. In fact, Jotapa wassure she caught a trace of mischief in Hisgaze. Her eyes flashed in annoyance.

‘Your temper?’ He questioned, the deepdimples showing in His bronzed cheeks.‘It is better kept in check nowadays?’

Immediately Jotapa’s eyes narrowed,and she drew herself up to her fullimperial height.

‘You address the princess of Arabia.’Her nostrils flared in indignation.

Jesus’ eyes flickered with mischief. Sheglared at Him. How He knew her! ‘Mytemper, I can assure you, is in exactly thesame state as Yours was today, except thatYou had a whip, and I have none.’

Jesus threw back His head and laughedloudly in delight.

Jotapa frowned, her quicksilver temperstarting to rise, but then, as she returnedHis gaze, somehow she knew with a deepknowing – that it was not her discomfort

He enjoyed ... He was enjoying her.Despite all her flaws – and there weremany – the Hebrew liked her – Jotapa –spirited, strong, haughty princess ofArabia.

And she realized that to each one whoclutched at His robe, He was the same. Hefound the treasure in each soul – searchedthrough the sin and bitterness of each untilHe found the pearl of great price. With herit was her strength.

And the tears welled up in her eyes,unheeded. Jesus bowed His head slightly,then walked towards her and straight pasther, His countenance stern, almost severe.Jotapa turned, her heart pounding.Instinctively she knew that He was headedstraight for the carriage across the road,the carriage that held Zahi.

She clutched her skirts in her hands,dashing after Jesus, but before she couldcatch up with Him, He had already openedthe carriage door. He put out His hand toZahi, who immediately grasped it andstepped down onto the dusty road, in fullview of all the crowd. A loud gasp wentup from the throng surrounding Jesus asthey stared at Zahi, his face and handscovered in the thin gauze cloth. A plumpred-faced woman clasped her child to herand moved away rapidly, followed inquick succession by dozens of men andwomen all across the crowd. Jotapa triedto move nearer, but Duza gently held herback.

Jesus looked deeply into Zahi’s eyesfor a long moment, then whisperedsomething that escaped Jotapa.

Zahi fell at Jesus’ feet.‘Who do you say that I am?’‘You are the Unknown God,’ Zahi

whispered in awe. ‘...the one whom theRab Mag Daniel prophesied.’

Jotapa stared in astonishment at Duza.‘He has studied the great Rab Mag’s

writings these past eight years fervently,day and night, in his library.’ Duza saidsoftly. ‘There were nights he could notsleep, but still he studied. Searching,searching for the meaning of the greatMessiah.’

Jesus smiled gently. An intimate tendersmile. Gently, He unwrapped the muslincovering Zahi’s face. The crowd, nowwatching from a safe distance, gasped inhorror at the disfigured features. ThenJesus unwrapped the cloth from each

hand, revealing the stumps and rottedflesh.

‘Go in peace,’ He said. ‘Your faith hashealed you.’

And a gasp went up from the entirecrowd, followed by a long, awed silence.In front of their eyes, Zahi’s featuresstarted to heal. Jotapa watched,incredulous, as the raw distended androtting skin on Zahi’s face began tosmooth and heal. She stared down atZahi’s hands. The nodules disappeared;the fingers grew long and straight. Shewatched as the decaying stump whereZahi’s thumb had once been healed andgrew back. She blinked. This could notbe! Why, she had believed that Zahi couldbe healed, but certainly not that his fingersbe replaced and as new!

She turned to Duza who was staring instunned silence, as was the crowd. Allwere transfixed by the immediate miracleoccurring before their eyes. Judas stared,exhilaration on his countenance. This wastheir Messiah.

Jesus clasped Zahi to Himself in a longembrace.

Zahi fell to his knees, tears coursingdown his cheeks. ‘Thank You ... thankYou,’ he murmured in adoration, staringthrough tears at the backs of his hands,turning them over in wonder.

And then Jesus placed His hand underZahi’s chin and raised his face to His. Hesmiled tenderly into Zahi’s eyes. ‘Zahi,crown prince of Arabia, follow me.’

Zahi rose to his feet, and Jotapawatched as Zahi turned his face to her and

Duza. Duza struggled to contain the short,racking sobs that rose from the depths ofhis soul.

And then Zahi smiled directly at Jotapa.A brilliant, sundrenched smile.

And in an instant, both he and Jesuswere gone.

Chapter Twenty-six

Dark Choices

Charsoc flew through the forbiddingclandestine underground crypts of thedamned, his black sorceror’s cloakflapping, riding the subterranean zephyrs.The soporific throbbing beat of theshaman drums and the grand haunting ariasof the Necromancer choirs filteredupward from the lower crypts growing inintensity as he neared two mammoth blackdoors adorned with ornately carvedgolden Seraphim and Gorgons, theentrance to the inner sanctum of the lowercrypts of the shadows, the gateway to the

Catacombs of Ichabod.He raised his silvered staff, its head a

live serpent. Instantly the massive blackdoors flung open, revealing the swelteringunderground tunnels of the nether regions– the abode of the Dark Younglings.

The air was thick with the eerie hum ofdemonic incantations, voodoo, hexes andenchantments as hundreds of Charsoc’sdark deformed youngling apprenticesindustriously poured their gruesomepoisons and potions, reciting their blackarts and enchantments. Charsoc pulled hisblack sorcerer’s cape tightly around him.He flew through the gloomy tunnels, pastthe infinite Lower Libraries of Iniquities,their mother-of-pearl shelves crammedwith millions of silver tomes and ancientblack codices. The menacing rhythm of the

shaman drums grew louder as hedescended into the crypts of the shadows,the abode of Huldah and his macabreShaman Kings. The crypt ceilings werefestooned with dark menacing trompel’oeils of damson and deep magentas,barely visible through the shadowedgloom. He flew downward ... foreverdownward, through the cramped outershaman warrens that housed the millioncolossal iron hell cages that incarceratedthe sinister shaman vulture scouts whoscreeched in terror and hissed venomouslyas he passed by.

Finally he reached a door of beatengold, its handle one huge uncut ruby.Charsoc placed his ringed fingers on theglittering jewel. Instantly he vanishedfrom the Crypts of the Shadows into the

Catacombs of Ichabod.* * *

Aretas paced the throne room in a dreadfury.

Jotapa stood trembling on the far sideof the chamber. Duza, Ghaliya and Ayesheknelt before the throne, their heads bowed.

‘You took Zahi, your dying brother...’Each syallable strained from his mouth.‘...my firstborn, the crown prince of

Arabia, to Jerusalem to see the Hebrew...’He stared at Jotapa. Incredulous.

‘Without my permission. And now ...NOW you tell me that he just disappeared... vapourised into the streets ofJerusalem.’ His face was blacker thanthunder.

Jotapa swallowed nervously. ‘Father ...

he was healed – the Hebrew healed him.’Aretas drew himself up to his full

imperial stature.‘To add insult to injury...’ his dark eyes

flashed with fury, ‘you have the gall to tellme, your own father, that Zahi no longerhas leprosy, that ... that the Hebrew justmiraculously healed him.’ Aretas lookedfrom Jotapa to the clear-eyed Ayeshe, thento the trembling Duza.

‘It is true, Your revered Majesty,’muttered Ayeshe from the floor. ‘TheHebrew healed Zahi. He is well.’

Aretas strode over to the Beytel andwith his sceptre swept the cross to thefloor, enraged. ‘The Hebrew...’

Ghaliya and Duza flung themselvesfacedown on the floor.

At last Jotapa spoke. ‘Let them go,

Father. It is my fault. I commanded them ...I forced them to take us. They had nochoice in the matter.’

Aretas’ eyes flashed darkly.‘No choice? Ayeshe!’ He whirled

around to his frail aged Nabatean servant.‘You, who have served me from thecradle – you who are as stubborn as tenthousand unruly mountain she-camels whodisobey their masters – did you have achoice?’ He motioned for Ayeshe to rise.

The sinewy old Nabatean stood up andlooked directly at Aretas, his gaze clearand true. ‘I chose this course, my lord. Itwas indeed old Ayeshe’s will toaccompany them.’

Aretas threw his hands in the air. ‘I amvexed that you do not fear me, Ayeshe!’he raged.

‘This is a terrible day for a king ofArabia.’

‘I do not fear you,’ Ayeshe said softly.‘But I love you, my ageing king.’ The oldman bowed his head.

Aretas groaned in exasperation. ‘Neverdid I think I would live to see the daywhen it was a greater thing for myservants to love me than to fear me!’ Heglared at Ayeshe.

‘I was there, sire when–’Aretas waved him silent. His

expression softened. ‘Yes, yes, my oldcaretaker, you recount the events of theinfant Hebrew too many times – I wasblind; then I saw.’

Aretas rolled his eyes in frustration.‘And you Duza, bosom companion of myfirstborn son – did my daughter command

you, too? Did you succumb also to thewill of a woman?’

Duza lifted his head. ‘Your Majesty, thepain that the disease inflicted on theprince was more than could be borne, bothfor himself and for your soul, sire.’

Duza placed his forehead back down onthe marble.

Aretas thrust his arms heavenward indespair.

‘So your motive, too, was borne oflove.’ Aretas set his cup down hard on thetable. ‘Love, love...,’ he mumbled,‘...where is the respect that should beshown to a king of Arabia?’

He looked at Jotapa, his countenancesofter. ‘You say the Hebrew touched himand he was made whole. You are sure ofthis, Jotapa. You saw it with your own

eyes?’‘And the eyes of all these witnesses

before you, Father,’ Jotapa whispered.Tears welled up unheeded in Aretas’

eyes. ‘You ... you saw it, then...’ hestumbled, his eyes pleading with Jotapa.

Tears streamed down Jotapa’s cheeks.‘His flesh is healed, Papa, as clear andsmooth as a newborn babe’s. Your son,beloved of your soul, is whole and freeand has peace in his soul.’

Aretas looked, speechless, from Jotapato Ayeshe and then to Duza. Deeplymoved.

‘His fingers are grown and strongagain, Your Majesty.’ Duza’s voice wasclear. ‘Word travels in Jerusalem that hewrites ... for the Hebrew, as His scribe.’

Aretas walked to the great window and

gazed out towards the Royal HuntingGrounds. He stared for a long while at thelions that prowled across the exoticgrasslands.

‘He is not safe there. The stories ofthese followers of the Hebrew circulateeven to Arabia. The Hebrew has powerfulenemies: the Pharisees, the Sanhedrin ...the Romans. They all fear His sway andauthority over the masses, and now Zahi isone of them – a...’ He could not bringhimself to say the word.

He turned from the window. ‘He is a ...follower of the Hebrew. Is this true?’

‘Yes, Father, Zahi has become afollower.’

‘It will bode ill for Zahi – my soul feelsit.’ He sighed deeply, then bent down andpicked up the cross from the floor.‘Then

so be it. I, Aretas, sovereign ruler of Petraand Arabia, bestow my blessing on CrownPrince Zahi. May his ways prosper andhis soul find peace.’

He turned to Duza. ‘Duza, your kingcommands you. Go to Jerusalem. Seek outmy blessed son and bind yourself to him,day and night. Serve Zahi, fruit of myloins, fruit of all Arabia. This is yoursolemn duty.’

And he replaced the Hebrew’s crossupon the altar.

* * *Charsoc sat on a throne of ivory horn inthe Catacombs of Ichabod. Green vapourssnaked up from the monstrous warlockcauldrons of bubbling hemlock andhellbroth, potions of bladderwrack and

deadly nightshade brewing on thetowering garnet altar opposite the throne.Numerous cankerworm slithered betweenthe thousand black tapers of belladonnaspluttering on the altar, behind which hungthe huge magenta veil that led toPerdition’s second Unholy of Holies,governed by the dreaded high priests ofthe fallen – the Warlock Kings of theWest.

‘Enter, high priests of the fallen,’Charsoc cried.

The magenta veil fluttered, then thethirteen Warlock Kings of the Westmaterialized in front of the altar. Theystood, ten feet in height, their pale greenparchment-like skin glowed with aluminous sheen. Their noses were hooked,their hunched backs covered by long black

capes, their jet black hair was pokerstraight and fell past their waists, theirheads were crowned with pointed blackhats entwined with living serpents.

‘Jether and the elders of Yehovah aregathered?’ Charsoc asked.

Dracul, ancient ruler of the WarlockKings, bowed deeply before Charsoc. Hisbeady amber cat-like eyes glittered fromhis long bony countenance ‘The BlackMurmurers advise us they assemble as wespeak, O master. In the labyrinths of theseventh spire,’ he rasped, green sulphurissuing from his pale purple lips.

‘This day we uncover their scheming,’Charsoc declared. ‘Yehovah’s powers areformidable. We need our strongest magic.’

‘The seventh chamber is impenetrable,’Ishtar hissed.

Dracul nodded. ‘Even our combinedsorceries are inadequate to penetrate theseventh spire.’

‘But this is!’ Charsoc removed a silveramulet from his robes and held it up. TheWarlock Kings fell back as one, clutchingtheir temples in agony. Charsoc replacedit swiftly in its amulet. ‘The stone of firefrom the sixth chamber. My formerabode.’ He lowered his voice. ‘The sixthstone. Its flame is dying. Nearextinguished. It cannot exist in ourkingdom of the fallen. But its power willstrengthen as we draw nearer thelabyrinths. We will use it for one finalassault upon their assembly.’

And what of Jether?’ Dracul leered.‘Jether’s powers fade,’ Charsoc hissed.

‘His magic grows weak.’ He rose, holding

his staff high above his head. ‘I will dealwith Jether.’

Chapter Twenty-seven

Galilee

Jesus gazed across the Sea of Galilee, itsdeep mercurial blue waters glistening inthe fading sun. He glanced down at a tinygirl, no more than three years of age, whosat on His lap. She clutched Him tightlyaround the waist, her head buried in Hischest so that only two long untidy curlingbraids were visible, tied with scarletribbons. Surrounding Him in a semicircleon the white sand were at least nineteenchildren between the ages of two andfifteen. Six boys, aged around twelveyears of age, sat cross-legged on the rocks

opposite Him, greedily devouring moundsof roasted fish, fresh from the nets andstuffing great handfuls of dates into theirmouths, totally engrossed in their feast.Jesus watched them in enjoyment. Threeolder youths griddled sardines on the openfires.

The small girl with the scarlet ribbonsraised her head, sucking her thumb. Shelooked up at Jesus lovingly and sighed,then deliberately removed her thumb fromher mouth. ‘Jesus,’ she lisped, ‘RubiedDoor...’ Then she buried her head backdeep into Jesus’ robes.

An unnatural stillness fell. Even thegreedy devourers stopped eating their fishand wiped their oily mouths with theirsleeves, waiting for Jesus to speak. Hiseyes grew distant. Remembering. ‘Far

away from Galilee, far beyond the moon,’His voice was hushed, ‘lies the kingdomof the First Heaven.’

A twelve-year-old boy frowned, ‘Whycan’t we see it, then, Master?’ He shookhis tight black curls, which fell over hiseyes, veiling the mischief hidden there. Hewas joined in soft laughter by his some ofhis peers. Jesus sighed long sufferingly.

‘Reuben, must I teach you a refreshercourse on physics?’ The boys erupted intoraucous laughter, this time at the scowlingReuben’s expense. Jesus looked over to afifteen-year-old youth with even tighterblack curls and a straggling black growthof beard, who was busy griddling fish.‘Stephen, teach your brother his lessons.’

Stephen looked over at Reuben throughhis curls, then spoke.‘The fall of man

made fundamental changes in certain lawsof physics and biology.’ Stephen left hisfish and stood proudly on the sand,gesturing with a stick. ‘The nature ofsubjective time has changed sincecreation. The First Heaven is governed bya different set of physical laws. Here inGalilee we are contained or limited to a“one-dimensional” time frame, so wecannot walk through walls or on water.’

Jesus nodded in approval. ‘Jesus walkson water,’ Rebecca lisped, then duckedher head back into Jesus’ robe. Jesusstroked her head tenderly. Stephencontinued. ‘Jesus, being from the FirstHeaven, enjoys a multidimensional qualityof time. Yehovah is bound by neither timenor space, for He existed before theuniverse was, before the creation of space

or matter or time. Just because you cannotsee another dimension with your eyesdoesn’t mean that it isn’t there. That is justplain ignorance. And ignorance is sad,’Stephen stressed contemptuously, noddingin Reuben’s direction. The fiery Reubenscowled, darting towards him likelightning and punched him in the arm.

‘Know-all!’ he muttered.‘Boys, boys,’ said Jesus, shaking His

head. ‘Have you learned nothing of theprinciples of the First Heaven? Love yourneighbour as yourself – especially yourbrother, Reuben.’ Jesus frowned atReuben, but His eyes twinkled. Reuben’sface creased into a sheepish grin. ‘Wellenough, Jesus, I’ll learn my lessons.’

‘Tell us the tale, Jesus!’ a lively four-year-old exclaimed. ‘Of the great war in

heaven.’‘Again, Judah?’ Jesus sighed. ‘Long

ago, Judah, before this world as you knowit, and billions of years before Galileewas created, a great angel existed, one ofthree great princes of heaven: the Light-Bearer.’

The younger children clung to Jesus’every word, while the older ones soongrew more interested in their feast of fishand dates. ‘He was filled with wisdom,perfect in his beauty. But the great Kinglonged for companionship. So he decidedto create a new race, the Race of Men,from his own DNA. But the Light-Bearergrew jealous of the idea of the Race ofMen and launched an insurrection – a war– against the great King.’

‘I don’t like him,’ a small voice

shrilled.‘What was his name?’ a second voice

piped up.‘Sataneal,’ Reuben whispered to

another in a hushed undertone. ‘He wasbad...’

The twelve-year-olds dropped theremains of their fish on the sand, nowcaptivated.

Jesus looked at them out of the cornerof His eye.

‘Was there a great battle?’ one asked.Jesus nodded. ‘I saw Satan fall like

lightning,’ He spoke softly.The older boys stared at Him in

admiration.‘He and his renegade third were

banished ... he came immediately to temptthe Race of Men away from God. And in

this he met great success. And so the titledeeds that the great King had entrusted tothe Race of Men now legally belonged toLucifer, who was made their sovereignking.’

‘Oh, no! He is king of the world!’shrilled a ruddy-faced five-year-old inhorror.

‘Is he king of Galilee?’The smaller children huddled together

in alarm, their eyes wide.Another child, a little older, frowned at

them. ‘You’re with Jesus, scaredy-cat –He casts the demons out. Lucifer’s scaredof Him because He’s the great King’sSon!’

Two of the small children stuck theirtongue out at the eight-year-old.

Jesus went on, ‘The great King loved

the Race of Men passionately. He was notprepared to lose them for eternity. So Hedecided He must leave the First Heavenand be born as one of the Race of Men.’

‘And get back the title deeds,’ Judahdeclared.

Jesus raised His eyebrows. ‘Excellent,Judah!’

Judah stood to his full three feet, handson hips. He brandished a stick, then shookhis unruly red curls. ‘Who will fightSataneal?’ he cried.

Jesus placed Rebecca gently down onthe sand and rose to His feet. He walkedover to the edge of the shore of Galilee,His sunstreaked hair blew away from Hishandsome, noble face. He stared out at thelast rays of dusk sun that fell across thelake casting their mysterious shifting

shadows on the water.‘I will fight Sataneal, Judah.’ His voice

was very soft. ‘At a place calledGolgotha. The war between the FirstHeaven and the kingdom of darkness willbe waged.’ He turned to the children, whostared up at Him in wonder, then turnedback to the horizon, His eyes blazing withfervour. ‘The war of the First Judgement.’

Chapter Twenty-eight

Mandragora

The incantations of the Warlock Kings ofthe West grew in intensity, their darkeningwings suddenly visible. In an instant,Charsoc and the entire Warlock covenvanished, spinning through the catacombson their broomsticks, accompanied byDracul’s demon harpies to the lowerboundaries of the time corridors where apack of snarling wort devourers waited.Their escort.

Charsoc signalled and he and theWarlock Kings ascended into the timecorridors, their black hair and robes

flying, veering left, then right, through thewinding time passages, beneath oceans,through spiral galaxies and interstellarclouds, diving downwards into supermassive black holes, then upwardsgyrating at the speed of light throughmultiple star systems until gradually thefirst glimmering outline of the FirstHeaven’s magnificent horizonsmaterialized.

The coven hovered before the twelvepale blue moons that were now risingfrom the Eastern horizon, observing theshifting hues of the First Heaven’shorizons as the lilacs transformed toamethysts and then to a deep indigo.

Charsoc opened the silver amuletaround his neck. The stone of fire wascold and grey, barely flickering. He

waited until the stone finally began toblaze faintly with an orange fire.

He turned to address the WarlockKings.

‘Unprotected, the effects of Yehovah’spresence on Warlocks will at bestasphyxiate us, at worst destroy us anddeliver our souls screaming to the Abyss.The only antidote is thus: each one of youmust hold the stone and willingly embraceits power.’

Dracul and the Warlock Kings drewback as one. ‘Its power is not yet strongenough to destroy you.’ Charsoc removedthe stone from the amulet with his glovedhand. ‘but it is strong enough to immunizeus for a brief time against the consumingfire.’ He frowned. ‘But I warn you, whenit wears off, we have no defence.’

He removed his glove and clasped thestone with his bony fingers in triumph. ‘Itwill also render us invisible.’ His facecontorted in agonized pain, his entire bodyshook violently as the fierce orangelightnings coursed through his limbs. Thenthe lightnings stopped. He thrust the stoneto Dracul, who grasped it, at once utteringa tortured scream. Dracul’s limbs shookuncontrollably. Swiftly the Warlock Kingsthrust the stone from one to another,drawing off its power.

‘We arrive uninvited.’As Charsoc placed his staff on the

stone, a luminous fire blazed from theserpent’s mouth; instantly he and theWarlock Kings became invisible.

The fiendish troupe flew past thetwelve pale blue moons, upwards through

the indigo horizons towards the labyrinthsof the Holy Mountain. Gradually, theseven spires of the labyrinths becamevisible through the flashing lightnings.They flew over pearl beaches, past thePalace of Archangels, across the vast onyxexpanse of the Mount of the North andover the immense, towering jasper wall.They flew through swirling white mistsand thunder and electric-blue lightningstowards the mammoth golden tower of theCrystal Palace that peaked into sevenspires, surrounded by its magnificentrolling gardens that seemed to hang frominfinity as if held by an invisible force.

Outside the looming golden gothicseventh spire, they came to a standstill.Charsoc disappeared through the walls ofthe labyrinths followed by the Warlock

Kings, their path lit only by the flamingeternal torches hanging high against thewalls of the caverns, which were fuelledby the burning coals of the seven spirits ofYehovah. They ascended upwards. Stillupwards.

Finally they arrived outside the seventhchamber. Charsoc waited, unobserved bythe Watchers of the seventh flame, whostood, barring the entrance. He put his earto the wall of the cavern, listening intently,then passed straight through the walls ofthe seventh chamber, followed by theWarlock Kings.

Jether stood in the very centre of thechamber, surrounded by the seven eldersof the High Council of the First Heavenwho were seated on seven cornelianthrones. Behind Jether, in the furthest

depths of the cavern, a stormy wind raged,and out of the wind burned a great indigocloud. Charsoc moved nearer. There,dimly visible in the centre of the coals offire, lay the enormous gold-bound codices– the codices of the White Judgement. Hestared at them, as one transfixed, thenraised his head studying Jether and theelders. He nodded to Dracul. One by one,the Warlock Kings surrounded the elderswho remained oblivious to their presence.

‘Revered elders, ‘Jether declared. ‘Theday of the First Judgement hastens. We arehere today for the unveiling of...’

Xacheriel sneezed violently. ‘Drat andbumble!’ He fumbled in his voluminousrobes for his handkerchief. ‘A thousandpardons, revered Jether!’ he spluttered,his eyes streaming. ‘...Mandragora,’ he

muttered. Issachar frowned.‘Revered elders,’ Jether continued,

‘today we unveil the undisclosed tenets ofthe Codex of...’

Xacheriel let out another earsplittingsneeze. Jether raised his hands in despair.

‘Mandragora?’ Xacheriel mumbled.‘I’m allergic to it.’

‘Mandrake root – in the seventhchamber?’ Jether looked at himdoubtfully.

Xacheriel nodded vigorously.‘How do you know it’s Mandrake

root?’ Issachar glared dubiously atXacheriel.

‘Mandrake is a plant of the fall. Itcannot grow in the First Heaven,’ saidMaheel in his soft breathy voice.

‘My excursions to the red zone,’

Xacheriel mumbled. ‘The flesh-eatingNecromancers use it for their hexes...’ Hesat, glowering at Issachar, his armsfolded, with his spotted handkerchief nowcrammed out of both nostrils.

‘I tell you...’ Xacheriel’s eyes and nosestreamed, ‘it is Mandragora!’

‘Issachar is right, Xacheriel old friend.’Jether placed his arm gently onXacheriel’s. ‘It is impossible to smellMandragora here in the First Heaven.’

Zebulon looked up from hissupplications. ‘Yet, revered Xacheriel, I,too, smell the pungency of nightshade.’

Jether frowned, his eagle eyes alert. Heraised his hand then placed his finger tohis lips.

‘Let us be circumspect. We switch tothe ancient language – the speech of

antiquities.’ He lowered his voice, thencontinued in a strange unintelligibleancient angelic tongue. Charsoc smiledslowly, for he well understood theirdialect.

Jether lowered his head. ‘It would seemwe may entertain intruders unaware,’ hedeclared gravely.

‘Intruders?’ Xacheriel spluttered, hiseyes streaming.

Jether shook his head, mystified. ‘Thereis not one who exists with the power toinvade the seventh spire. Yet, I too, sensea dark intrusive presence.’ He rose to hisfeet and raised his staff.

‘Disclose yourself!’ The chamber wasmet by silence.

Xacheriel gave another blusteringsneeze. Jether walked towards the great

indigo cloud that blazed at the far side ofthe chamber. He raised a second staff witha golden seraph carved on the top of itsrod, the Staff of the White Winds. Thenplaced it into the very heart of the flameswhere the indigo inferno blazed fiercest.

Jether’s hair and beard flew wildly inthe tempests that rose from the indigocloud. He raised the staff, his voice darkwith authority. ‘I command you in thename of Yehovah – Disclose yourself!’Indigo forks of lightning blazed from thestaff’s rod towards the left of the chamber.

The High Council watched. Allstretched out their staffs.

They stared, transfixed as only a ringedhand materialized, its bony, ringed fingersclasped tightly shut around an object.

Jether moved forward, then swiftly

placed the full force of the burning staff onthe hand. Instantly the remainder ofCharsoc’s body materialized in front ofthem.

‘Aha! I told you – Mandragora!’Xacheriel spluttered, scowling atIssachar. ‘Charsoc showers in it!’heexclaimed triumphantly.

‘I hold the sixth stone of fire...’ Charsochissed. A gasp went up from the elders.

‘From the sixth chamber.’‘Pickpocket!’ muttered Xacheriel under

his breath.‘Only the pure can hold the stone,’

Lamaliel whispered.‘I am the pure,’ Charsoc hissed. ‘Pure

evil ... pure good – both are the pure.’‘The pure has become corrupted.’

Jether walked directly towards him, his

face like thunder.‘Then wrest it from me, Jether the Just –

as I intend to wrest the codices of firefrom you.’ Charsoc swiftly lifted hissceptre. Immediately Jether was seizedfrom his feet – hovering eighteen inchesoff the floor. Charsoc brought the sceptredown. Jether was flung violently acrossthe cavern floor, gasping for breath.Instantly, the thirteen Warlock Kingsmaterialized in front of the elders, theirgnarled green features twisted, hair flying.Xacheriel smashed his staff hard againstCharsoc’s back, while Issachar pushedhim against the cavern walls. Dracul’slong pale hands swiftly grasped Xacherieland Issachar’s throats, while Ishtar andLoki grabbed the elders’ staffs.

Jether staggered to his feet.

‘We bid you welcome, Warlock Kingsof the West!’ he cried, strangelyexhilirated. ‘Dracul – Long has it beensince you crossed my threshold.’

Dracul leered at him. ‘It holds a certain... je ne sais quoi’ He shrugged. ‘My oldtutor. I am deeply indebted to yourinstruction. It has served me well in theemploy of my master, Satan.’

Jether watched Charsoc out of thecorner of his eye moving towards theCodex of Fire lain on the table.

Dracul moved nearer; he raised hisbroomstick; instantly it became a livehissing serpent.

‘It would seem you sink to the lowerboundary of harlotries since yourdefection.’ Jether observed. ‘I regressmomentarily to your kindergarten tactics,

Dracul.’Jether raised his hand imperceptibly.

The serpent metamorphosed into a hissingblack cat. ‘The mislaid part of yourcostume, I think.’

Dracul’s serpent transformed back intohis staff.

‘Before this day is out, Jether,’ hehissed, ‘you and your compatriots shall beour captives behind the magenta veil ofthe Unholy of Unholies.’

Jether’s expression grew stern. Helifted the Staff of the White Winds. ‘I thinknot, Dracul.’

Dracul was instantly thrust violentlyagainst the wall of the cavern, thrown tothe ground, gasping for breath. He glaredup at Jether with loathing, raising himselfup from the ground with his long green

hands, his eyes filled with malice.‘Jether the Just–’ Dracul and the fast

recovering Warlock Kings moved towardsJether. A ferocious evil pack.

‘No, Dracul!’ Charsoc cried. ‘We havegreater fish to fry than old sorcerers longpast their prime. I intend this very day tobring my master, Lucifer, the secrets thatthe Codex holds.’ Charsoc pushed Maheelaside and strode his way to the head of thetable. He stood staring down at the Codexof Fire.

‘Secrets of the First Judgement.’Issachar strode towards Charsoc.‘Leave him, Issachar!’ Jether cried,

watching from the corner of his eye.‘The Codex will discern its reader.

Charsoc too easily forgets the sacredmysteries of Holy Lore.’

Charsoc stared down at the Codexhungrily, then opened the cover. Jetherwatched him intently from the far side ofthe chamber. He turned the first page. Itwas blank. Charsoc frowned. He turned asecond page, then a third. Frantically, herifled through the Codex. Each page wasempty. Blank.

He turned to Jether, vehement hatred inhis eyes. Jether held his gaze. ‘You havebeen found wanting.’

Charsoc continued his frantic rifling ofthe pages, unnerved. Each was blank.

‘Yehovah knew of your intrusion,’Jether spoke in a low voice, ‘the verysecond the thought was conceived insideyour dark and twisted mind.’

Charsoc flung the Codex to the floor.His face dark with loathing, he strode

over to the flaming indigo cloud, ‘Only theuncorrupted can touch the flame!’ Jethercried.

Charsoc turned to Jether in triumph.‘You lose power, Jether,’ Charsoc spat,

‘Your magic grows old and weak. Mine isstrong.’

Clutching the sixth stone of fire, highabove his head, Charsoc stepped into thevery midst of the burning indigo flames.

Jether watched as Charsoc’s face beganto glow as burnished bronze, his skinburning translucent. In the very midst ofthe coals of fire lay the six enormousgold-bound lapis lazuli codices, theirpages blazing with a fierce blue fire.Great flashes of lightning came out of thefire as two flaming living creaturesbecame visible through the indigo flames:

the mighty cherubim of Yehovah. Eachliving creature had four faces, the face ofan angel, an ox, a lion, and an eagle. Theirenormous eight golden wings werecovered with eyes and outstretched. Thefirst Cherub lifted the top codex from themidst of the burning coals, then held outhis hand to Charsoc. Charsoc stretched outhis right hand, his left still grasping thestone, to the flaming Cherub, then gasped.A moment later, he screamed.

A hair raising, blood-chilling scream.The skin was melting off his hand likewax, his bones visible beneath.Desperately he tried to unclasp his handfrom the Cherub’s powerful grasp with hisleft hand.

The stone of fire fell down ... down ...into the blazing inferno.

And instantaneously Charsoc was gone.Dracul and his Warlock Kings with him.Vanished from the seventh spires.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Lazarus

Jesus wiped the tears from His cheeks andmoved through the garden, past the roses,closer to the rock-hewn vault whereLazarus’s body, having been anointed withmyrtle, aloes and spices, now lay. Hepaced back and forth, deeply disturbed inHis spirit, smelling the stench of theprince of demons – of the author of deathhimself. Oblivious to the mourners’violent wailing, He turned to a bunch ofstraggling relatives standing some wayoff, who were staring pale and afraid.

‘Roll away the stone!’ He commanded.

Tentatively, the men in the partyapproached and, under Jesus’ direction,removed the great grey stone from thefront of the hewn cave. Then, as one, themen fell back, shrinking in terror.

Jesus’ countenance was fierce. Hewalked undeterred towards the opening.Then He stopped, sensing the greatimpenetrable wall of death that rose uparound Him as a sombre, cold barricade.His eyes narrowed. Facing Him wasMoloch, Lucifer’s champion, prince of theslayers, with his rabid depraved battalion.

‘What do you want with our prize,Nazarene?’ the fallen princes of deathhissed in caterwauling unison.

Moloch rose to his full eleven feet ofheight. A fallen angelic prince of greatstature. His tangled black hair fell across

his craggy, mangled features. ‘My demonslaves summoned me. The smell of strangesorceries linger on one named Lazarus.My master, Satan, king of death and hell,has command of this body,’ he growled,his voice a strange mix of dark discord.‘The Light-Bearer now bears darkness.He has greater sway than You on thisplanet, Nazarene,’ he hissed. Jesus movedtowards him. ‘You are too late. We havealready escorted the subject Lazarus to theunderworld, to join the sleeping dead,’ helaughed maniacally.

He took out a strange-looking, tarnishedsceptre – his eyes glinting a demonic redgleam. ‘I, too, understand Eternal Law, forI was trained by Charsoc the Dark – youtrepass, Nazarene!’ he snarled. ‘We arethe kings of Earth. You have no place with

us, Jesus of Nazareth ... or with ourbooty!’

Jesus gazed at Moloch, His countenancefierce.

‘You have nothing in Me.’A strange blinding brilliance issued

from Jesus’ form, taking the form of ahundred blazing lightnings. ‘Keeper ofhell and of Death,’ Jesus cried. ‘One whoholds power and sway over your kingdomspeaks. Yehovah!’ He cried.

The tomb shuddered violently,illuminating the terrorized princes ofdarkness. Moloch fell to his knees, hisarm shielding his eyes from the scorchingflames.

‘You torment us before our time,Nazarene!’ Moloch shrieked.

A horde of hundreds of clawed black

bat-like creatures fled from the chamberof hewn rock while the cave shuddered asif in the throes of an earthquake.

‘Lazarus!’ Jesus cried. ‘Lazarus, comeforth to the land of the Race of Men!’

* * *Lucifer stood tall in his flaming goldenchariot surveying the massive iron gates ofPerdition. Eighteen of his finest fire-breathing panthers ran alongside thechariot, their coats glistening black, theirgolden manes braided and plaited withdiamonds, their heavy golden collarsstudded with emeralds. Marduk rode byLucifer’s side, inspecting the throngs oflistless, ashen, grey-mantled lost souls ofthe dead, which continually poured inunending masses through into hell and the

Underworld.One woman moved out of the rank and

file of the lines; she fell to the ground,clawing at the burning dirt beneath herhands. ‘They lied!’ she stared up atLucifer, shaking uncontrollably in horror.‘They told me you were a fable, a fairy-tale king of the damned!’

She scrabbled up, desperately clutchingat Lucifer’s robe. Two of Dagon’s fallenhorde savagely manhandled her andkicked her to the ground, where she laysobbing dementedly.

Lucifer wielded his cat-o’-nine panthertails, a slow, satisfied smile spread acrosshis face. ‘This brings me joy, Marduk,’ hesaid, holding out his hand to hiscupbearer, who passed him a goblet ofblack elixir that slid like treacle down

Lucifer’s throat. ‘It exceeds my highestexpectations. The whole of their lives onearth, they think I am a fable, a figment oftheir imagination.’ He stared down at thedemented woman on the ground, tearing ather hair and skin. ‘They lose their mindswhen they arrive here and discover that Iam more real than they of flesh and blood.It is great sport.’

He stopped as a horrified wailingechoed from beyond the vast iron gates. Agreat bellowing and roaring erupted fromthe demonic princes guarding the entrance,followed by agonized screaming.

Lucifer watched from a distance as abrilliant light blazed across the massiveiron gates of Perdition encircling thefettered, grey-robed souls that throngedthrough the gates; it then engulfed one

particular figure. The grey-mantled soulinstantly vanished, leaving the grey shroudlying on the burning pitch.

Marduk trembled, holding his eyes,which burned strangely with a searingpain.

Lucifer pulled on the reins of his steedand galloped over to where the greymantle lay on the ground. ‘Bring theguards responsible!’ he roared.

The great demonic princes slowly roseto their feet, trembling.

‘Where is my property?’The sentinel princes bowed their heads

as one as Lucifer got off his horse. Heknelt down in the pitch next to the greyshroud, caressing it slowly between hisfingers. Scorching flames engulfed hishand. He withdrew it, clutching his palm

in agony. A terrible hatred twisted hisfeatures.

‘Where are his bearers?’ he spat.The ground in front of the gates

shuddered. Moloch and his battalion ofslayers stood trembling at the gates.

Lucifer turned his panthers around toface Moloch. The craggy prince clutchedhis scorched face; his tongue was seared.‘The Nazarene – He is to be feared...’Moloch whimpered. ‘The Nazarene layssiege on my kingdom,’ he uttered.

Lucifer watched in disbelief as hell’schampion reeled to the ground.

‘Marduk! Summon Darsoc and the GreyMagi to the Crypts of the Shadows thisdusk. I shall remove every trace of theNazarene from my planet.’ He broughtdown his cat-o’-nine panther tails

savagely on his winged stallions.‘Now we strike!’he cried.

* * *

2018JFK Airport, New York City

– Lilian –Jason De Vere sat in the private executivelounge, scowling at the smiling attentiveVietnamese attendant holding out a plateof prepackaged snacks to him. He hatedairport food almost as much as he detestedthe mass-manufactured in-flight dinners.Thank God for own personal Gulfstreamjet.

He rose, glancing impatiently down athis Breitling. Where were his mother and

Lawrence St Cartier? He pacedimpatiently up and down the lounge, ascowl on his face, tall and lean in hiscrumpled linen suit, his silvering hairseverely cropped. He sighed loudly andsat back down in the hard airport loungechair. Scowling again. No one but hismother could get him to wait two hours inan airport. The fact that he was nowmajority owner and CEO of the fastest-growing media conglomerate in the worldwas irrelevant to her. He was her eldestson, and she had been insistent that hemeet her personally off today’s flight.

His expression softened. His mother.She never failed to amaze him. Since hisfather’s death, she had become chair of theDe Vere Foundation, responsible for multibillions of dollars annually, and yet she

was, without doubt, the most level-headed, down-to-earth person he had everknown.

Lilian De Vere was an indomitableforce – she had to be, to survive theformidable De Vere ancestry. He lovedher. Jason reddened at the very thought ofit. ‘Love’ – such a strong word, but whenhe thought of his mother it was true. Sheunderstood him; she always had. From themoment he was born to the time he foughtit out with his father about going to NewYork Film School, she had alwaysunderstood the untamed spirit that neededto be let loose. And she had fought forhim. At every turn. He would never forgetit. She was no fool. Could read a person’scharacter at a hundred paces and yet shewas genteel. Soft of spirit.

Lilian would stay in New York for theSpring, in her penthouse in the SantiagoCalatrava Tower in lower Manhattan – theapartment that James De Vere had boughtfor her in 2017 for $45 million. Shewould be wined and dined by all her deadhusband’s friends – ageing executivebachelors and divorcés, multibillionairesevery one. She was still beautiful andenjoyed the attention, but never took theirbait – there was simply no reason to. Shehad loved James De Vere intensely, andshe was content with her memories. Andshe had Lawrence.

She had known Lawrence St Cartierwhen she was young, so young that herhair was black and her skin was dewey.And loved him. Lilian De Rothschild hadmet James De Vere at the same time, and

he had swept her off her feet and she hadchosen the wealthy, educated son of one ofAmerica’s leading banking dynasties overthe brusque, penniless young priest.Lawrence was not the marrying kind, butthey had remained deep friends.

Shortly after her marriage, Lawrencehad joined the Jesuit order, then in hisearly thirties left the priesthood and joinedthe CIA. Lilian trusted him with her life –and her soul. As did her cynical eldestson. Although not related by blood,Lawrence and Jason had a connection thateven Jason’s nearest and dearest – ofwhich there were few – found perplexing.Only Lilian understood, for sheunderstood them both.

Jason watched as they came through thegates, arm in arm. Lilian, in her late

seventies, was slim and elegantly dressed,her silver hair rolled in an elegantchignon, her face barely lined.Accompanying her was the thin, silver-haired Englishman immaculately dressedin a pressed shirt, Savile Row trousersand grey silk cravat. He was in hiseighties, with a silver moustache and hisever-present pipe jutting from between histeeth. Trailing them both, obscured fromview under Cartier’s eclectic assortmentof suitcases, was his fourteen-year-oldEgyptian assistant, Waseem.

‘Jason!’ Lilian flung her arms aroundhis neck, smothering him. He blushed,awkwardly kissing her in return, thenturned to Lawrence, who shook his handwith vigour.

‘Jason, my boy!’

Lilian and Lawrence followed Jasonand his bodyguards down the privatecovered walkway, towards the gleamingblack Bentley waiting on the tarmac.

‘Mother...’ Jason tapped her arm as oneof his four aides opened the Bentley’sdoor for her. Lawrence St Cartier leanedover and kissed Lilian on the cheek. TheBentley purred away.

Lawrence St Cartier disappearedbehind the airport escort, back through thedoors, followed closely by the heavily-laden Waseem and headed for theEgyptair desk to make the six-thirty flightto Alexandria.

Nick De Vere would be waiting for himat the Monastery of Archangels.

Chapter Thirty

Lower than the Angels

Gabriel walked steadily through thenarrow pearl arbor covered withpomegranate vines laden with lush silverfruit, shielding his eyes from the intenseshafts of crimson light radiating from farbeyond. He walked past the headyperfume of the magnificent hangingblossoms of the Gardens of Fragrance,through the vale, until he came to aninconspicuous grotto at the very edge ofthe Cliffs of Eden surrounded by eightancient olive trees.

Trembling, he pushed open the familiar

wooden gate and walked over to thesimple bench in the centre of the grotto,carved of olive wood, staring out towardsthe the colossal Rubied Door, ablaze withlight, embedded into the jacinth walls ofthe tower. The entrance to Yehovah’sthrone room.

‘You have seen His death.’ Gabrielturned. Jether stood to his right.

‘I have seen many things these pastdusks.’ Gabriel shuddered.

‘Dreamings too terrible to utter.’Jether laid his hand gently on his

shoulder.‘And yet, He has to take His course.

There is no other way for the Race ofMen.’

They sat together in silence and gazed along while at the shimmering rainbow that

rose like an immense bow over the FirstHeaven’s horizons.

‘But, why–?’ Gabriel turned to Jether,his expression suddenly fierce.

‘The Race of Men do not heed Him.’‘There are some who care, Gabriel,’

Jether said softly. ‘Those who will notfollow Lucifer and his fallen. Their heartsyearn for Him, knowing not that it is Hethey long for. He knows these ones – past,present and future generations of the Raceof Men who will follow Him, fight for Hiscause. These are his subjects. He will betheir King.’

Jether walked to the very edge of thecliffs, gazing down at the sheer dropbetween the cliff face and the throne roomentrance where the fountains of lifeflowed from Yehovah’s throne thousands

of leagues downward to the Waters ofEden, then north, south, east, and west towater the First Heaven. There was nobridge across.

‘That is why Christos is, for a briefwhile, lower than the angels.’

Jether turned.‘You come often,’ he smiled gently at

Gabriel, ‘...to Christos’ garden?’Gabriel nodded.‘I feel closer to Him here. It brings

back memories of different times,’Gabriel’s voice was soft, ‘...times beforethe shadows fell.’

Jether sighed.‘We have not been given the capacity to

see all things as Yehovah. As Christos,Gabriel. Even as the angelic, even asseers, we see only in part.’

Gabriel closed his eyes, listening to theexquisite birdsong issuing from from thethousands of amethyst linnets perched onthe branches of the Great Willows in theGardens of Fragrance.

‘We see through a mirror darkly...’Gabriel murmured, ‘even as the Race ofMen.’

Jether nodded.‘We, the angelic, have this in common

with the Race of Men, it is true. We walkby faith, Gabriel. Trusting in His Choices.Assured of His decisions. One day, wewill see all things – even as they arerevealed to Him. Until then, this is ourtest. To trust. In devotion. In dedication.To execute His commands unequivocally.The very same test that Lucifer failed.’

‘Lucifer offers the Race of Men many

things.’ Gabriel pondered.‘But the greatest yearning of all men’s

hearts is not his to give.’ Jether turned toGabriel.

‘To truly belong. To be counted for. Totruly be loved for who each one is andwas created to be. Birthed from the veryheart of Yehovah. It is only back in thevery heart of Yehovah that the Race ofMen will find their peace. Their reasonfor existance. This is what Lucifer knowsand fears the most. This is the trueknowledge that, if the Race of Mendiscover it, will cause Lucifer’s kingdomto crumble.’

Gabriel rose and walked towardsJether, still standing at the edge of thecliffs.

‘He will suffer greatly at the hands of

the Race of Men.’Jether stared out again towards the

Rubied Door.‘It is a sacred mystery. To marvel at for

all eternity. The Councils gather on theTower of Winds. Come – we mustprepare.’

Chapter Thirty-one

Judas

Mary, Lazarus’s sister, sat at Jesus’ feet,her head on His lap, her waist-lengthcopper hair still unplaited, wet and mattedfrom wiping the excess perfume from Hisfeet. Jesus stroked her hair tenderly,deeply affected by her lavish gesture ofdevotion. She gazed up at Him inadoration, the fresh tears still staining herpale freckled cheeks, her sturdy nail-bittenfingers grasping His tightly. In thatmoment her plain face seemed almostbeautiful.

The strong fragrance of Indian

spikenard still pervaded the room. Itsalabaster flask lay on the floor,completely drained of its costly ointment,next to a living, breathing Lazarus, whowas being pulled and prodded by theconstant stream of clamouring friendsneighbours and curious strangers whowere still lining up outside the house tosee for themselves this notorious miraclethat had occurred right here in Bethany –and to gaze on the handsome youngprophet from Nazareth.

Judas continued in his incessant pacingup and down behind Jesus and Lazarus.Tonight, his rage had reached itsthreshold. Normally he prided himself onbeing the epitome of political correctness,but even his carefully controlled temperhad its limits.

He clutched the purse tightly in hishands.

Jesus looked up from Mary, studyingJudas slowly, gazing down for a longwhile at his hands grasping the purse sotightly until Judas flushed a dull red thatspread from his ears down through hisneck to his chest. Jesus met his gaze, Hisexpression unusually hard.

‘Let her alone, Judas.’ His words wereslow and measured.

‘Why are you bothering her?’ Heclasped Judas’ arm firmly. ‘She has donea beautiful thing.’ Finally Judas couldcontain his frustration no longer.

‘This oil could have been sold for threehundred denarii and given to thedestitute!’ he exclaimed.

Jesus lowered His gaze to Mary’s. ‘The

poor are always with us, Judas,’ He saidsoftly. ‘Whenever you wish, you can dogood to them; but you will not alwayshave Me.’

He placed His hand over Mary’s headprotectively. ‘Mary has done what shecould. She came beforehand to anoint Mybody for the burial. And wherever thegood news of Yehovah’s kingdom ispreached throughout the world, what shehas done tonight will indeed be told inmemory of her.’

Judas stared directly into Jesus’ sterngaze, his own black eyes burning with awild intensity. He stood a full minute incomplete silence, then kicked aside theempty flask in rage and strode pastLazarus, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Zahi lay on the pallet in the guest quartersof Joanna’s house, listening for soundsfrom the upper chambers. Over two hoursago Judas had stormed into the house,incensed, up the stairs, and slammed hisdoor. Zahi hadn’t heard him stir until now.Judas closed his room door and carefullylocked it. Zahi could hear his footsteps onthe stairs; then the outer door to Joanna’shouse slammed. Looking out of thewindow, he glimpsed Judas walkinghastily down the narrow street. His hairglistened, freshly washed, and his facewas bathed. He clutched the commonpurse and a larger bag tightly to him. Nodoubt off on another of his frequent tripsto Jerusalem.

Zahi reflected once more on theevening’s events. Judas had been

indignant, mortally offended. Zahi couldstill hear his stinging words, ‘That was awhole year’s salary!’ he had cried, ‘Itcould have been given to the poor!’

Judas’ family had scrimped andscraped all their lives just to give him aneducation.

To him it was an act of unrestrainedsacrilege. To Jesus, it was an act of lavishdevotion. To Judas it was a year’s wages;to Jesus, who regaled them with stories ofthe First Heaven’s gold streets and RubiedDoors, it was a drop in the ocean.

Zahi reflected. To the household ofAretas, it was not even the cost of oneruby from the immense coffers that filledhis father’s treasuries. The Hebrewthought like a king. How deeply heunderstood Jesus’ discernment on matters

of wealth. Money was merely a tool. Tobe used, not worshipped.

What was it the Hebrew had said?‘Where your treasure is, there will yourheart be.’ Zahi pondered over many of theHebrew’s sayings which seemedmysterious and indefinable, and yet herehe was, totally healed from leprosy. Sincewalking with the Hebrew, he had seenblind eyes open and the lame walk. Zahihad walked with warriors and witheastern kings since he was an infant, butnever – no, never had he walked with sucha King as this.

He was in a dilemma. For many monthsnow he had felt an uneasiness aboutJudas’s handling of the treasury purse, andhad taken it upon himself when Judas wasaway on one of his increasingly frequent

trips to Jerusalem, to conduct his ownprivate audit into Judas’s dealings withthe common purse. It had taken two wholenights, from dusk till dawn, but hisfindings had confirmed his deepestapprehensions. Money was missing.Consistently. The amounts were neverlarge enough to attract suspicion; indeed,only someone with mathematical trainingwould notice them at all. But Aretas hadbeen a stickler when it had come to Zahi’seducation. Both he and Jotapa had beeneducated in every aspect of the palace’sextensive trading rituals since they wereold enough to read and write. Zahi’smornings had been filled with endlesslettering and ciphering, auditing the royalfinancial records under Mahmoud’smeticulous eye, and there was no room for

error. By the time Zahi was twelve, he hadprogressed from reviewing Aretas’ localroyal accounts and was now auditing thegreat stacks of records that arrived eachdawn from the Nabatean trading routes.Much to Aretas’ elation, Zahi’s redlettering grew swiftly to be the scourge ofthe shrewd Chinese, Persian and Indiantraders who conducted business with thepalace. Every inflated sale of spices,incense or silks the eagle-eyed boyunderlined, meticulously recording eachmissing amount until he had traced thefraud to its author. Aretas had revelled inthe knowledge that the young crown princehad single-handedly put a stop to the ofsome of the wiliest traders in the EasternHemisphere.

Zahi tossed and turned restlessly. He

had scrupulously checked and recheckedhis findings. There was no doubt. Smallsteady amounts were missing from thepurse. And Judas must be growing moreconfident, for in the past three monthsseveral much larger sums haddisappeared. Until last week.

Judas must have become suspicious,because his treasury papers were nowhidden on his person at all times, and heclutched the common purse to himselfeven when he retired at night. Zahiwondered if Jesus knew of the pettypilfering that was going on under Hisnose. Earlier tonight he had watched Jesusobserving Judas and the common pursemore closely than usual. Perhaps Jesushad done His own investigating. Andwhere was Judas tonight? Zahi would

have to tell Jesus of his discovery.And it was while thinking on all these

things, that Zahi finally fell into a deepand dreamless sleep.

Chapter Thirty-two

The Trophy

Michael stood on the pearl sands of theFirst Heaven, gazing out at the pale moonssetting behind the copper-hued cliffs ofZamar. A soft warm zephyr blew hisflaxen locks; then the scents of frangipaniand myrrh from the orangeries filled hisnostrils.

He stared up past the looming crystalorangeries of the Palace of Archangels upto the derelict west wing of Lucifer’spalace – to the huge carved pearl balconywhere his elder brother had so relishedwatching him and Gabriel thundering

through the shallows on their whitestallions.

A sudden icy chill blew up. A thousandamethyst linnets suddenly took to the air ina flurry away from the Gardens ofFragrance. Michael frowned. He watchedas they flew, their wings flutteringfuriously, winging their way over theCrystal Sea. He wrapped his cloak aroundhim, strangely uneasy.

The fragrance of frankincense suddenlypermeated the sands.

‘Lucifer.’ Michael turned. Fierce. Noone was there. ‘Desist your sorceries...’

A moment passed; then Luciferappeared in front of him, his head coveredby a large grey hood, his ravaged featureshidden.

He gazed up past Michael, to the

balcony.‘Brothers...,’ he whispered, a great pain

fleetingly crossed his face, ‘for Eternity.’Lucifer murmured. They stood in silencefor a few moments.

‘Those days are long gone, Lucifer.’Michael turned his blazing gaze onto him.‘By your own hand, you ensured theirdemise.’

Slowly Lucifer removed his hood,revealing his marred ravaged features.

Michael breathed sharply inward, thenlowered his gaze, sickened.

‘The ravages of sin,’ Lucifer murmuredwith a wry smile. ‘They leave their mark.’

‘You appear only in your fallen statewhen unprotected by Eternal Law. Itherefore take it that you comeunsolicited,’ Michael observed dryly.

‘Quite so,’ Lucifer murmured. ‘I amhere uninvited...’ He bent down and ranhis fingers through the pearl sands, closinghis eyes in rapture. ‘The sensations of theFirst Heaven...’ He raised his gaze far inthe distance, beyond the translucentCrystal Palace to the colossal ruby-encrusted doorway encircled by theshimmering rainbow. He shielded his eyesfrom the fierce rubied rays.

‘Sweet agony,’ he whispered.‘You were in Eden, the garden of God;

every precious stone adorned you.’Lucifer turned in the direction of the

familiar voice. There, standing beneath theorangeries, his face half hidden behind thefragrant white frangipani, was Jether.Lucifer’s expression grew hard.

‘You were on the holy mount of God...’

Jether walked down the gilded stepstowards him. ‘You walked among thefiery stones. You were blameless in yourways from the day you were created...’Jether stopped directly in front of Lucifer,‘till iniquity was found in you.’

They stood regarding one anotheracross the pearl sands.

‘Jether, my old mentor. My physicaldemise – a small price to pay for mygreatest triumph.’ They held each other’sgaze in silence.

‘So you will kill Him,’ Jether saidsoftly.

‘You are too much the seer,’ Luciferreplied.

Michael and Jether stood facing him.Sombre.

‘Yes, His slaughter is imminent in the

Race of Men.’ A small, evil smile playedon Lucifer’s mouth. ‘As He breathes Hislast breath, my dark scribes will verify theNazarene’s death in the courts ofPerdition.’ He walked away from them,down the sands. ‘Then we escort Him tohell.’

Lucifer raised his arms to the shiftinglilac skies. ‘The Nazarene – my prize foreternity.’

Michael and Jether watched him insilence.

‘The Pupil supercedes his mentor,’Lucifer spat. He glared at Jether withunconcealed loathing. ‘You have lost, oldman.’ Then he vanished.

Michael and Jether looked out at thefrothing surf on the celestial lilac sea. ‘Heplays into our hands,’ said Michael.

‘He is to soon be caught in his owntangled web,’ Jether replied, his piercingeyes vigilant. ‘The day of the FirstJudgement hastens. It is now just a matterof time.’

Charged by Darsoc’s Grey Magi,Judas Iscariot stood in the councilroom in the palace of the high priestCaiaphas, before the chief priests ofJerusalem, and sold his soul forthirty pieces of silver.

And from that moment he lookedout for a convenient opportunity tobetray Jesus of Nazareth.

Chapter Thirty-three

Gethsemane

The fierce winds of the Kidron Valleyblew through the ancient olive groves ofGethsemane. Jesus knelt under one of thespreading gnarled olive trees, His facefallen on His chest. Heavy welts of blood,mingled with sweat, dripped from Hisforehead and down His cheeks, onto thedamp grass beneath Him.

Then, inexplicably, an exquisite aromaof spikenard and frangipani permeated theolive grove – the perfumes of the Gardensof Fragrance of the First Heaven. A soft,diffuse light settled, shimmering in front of

where Jesus lay unmoving. Gradually Hiseyelids flickered in vague recognition asthe exquisite aromas pervaded His senses.With intense effort, He moved His mattedhead towards the soft, healing balm ofbrilliance and opened His bloodshot eyes.A tall, shadowed figure slowly becamevisible.

There facing Him, looking down onHim with exquisite tenderness, stood animperial form, its face shrouded by aluminous white cloak. Behind the figure,in a semicircle, stood the entire council oftwenty-four heavenly kings, attired indazzling ceremonial white robes of theFirst Heaven. A circlet of gold rested oneach white head. Jesus recognizedLamaliel, then Methuselah and Xacheriel,His trusted heavenly elders, the stewards

of Yehovah’s heavenly mysteries.Slowly, Jether removed his hood,

kneeling down next to Jesus on the grass.‘Hark back to the world beyond theRubied Door,’ he whispered, his voiceinfinitely tender. ‘Before You wereencased in the dust and clay of the Race ofMen, Christos.’

‘I am trapped in this mire and clay,Jether,’ Jesus uttered, His voice wavering.‘I cannot heed Him...’

Jether looked at Him a long moment, hisexpression filled with tenderness andlove. From the folds of his robe heremoved a small silver vial, then pouredthe thick, clear elixir over Jesus’ head. Itran down His forehead onto His robes.

Instantly Jesus was transported awayfrom the ancient olive grove in Jerusalem.

He flew upward through the heavens andsolar systems and still upward, pastplanets and galaxies, and onward stillupward, past golden walls and sevenspires, until He caught sight of the twenty-four ancient kings, kneeling in asemicircle beneath the magnificenthanging blossoms of the Gardens ofFragrance, their crowned heads bowed,their mouths moving silently insupplication.

Jesus gasped, looking around at theeight olive trees of His garden, drinking inthe tangible glory of the First Heaven.Ahead of Him, across the vast cavern,shafts of light blazed from the immensegolden Rubied Door embedded in thejacinth walls of the tower. He stumbleddown onto His knees, His face raised to

the blazing crimson light, tears coursingdown His face.

‘Father...,’ He wept.Slowly the colossal Rubied Door

opened. Jesus flung Himself prostrate onthe ground as a great thundering eruptedand the rainbow around the HolyMountain ruptured into lilac and intenseblue lightnings that appeared to illuminateevery universe in the galaxy. And then,through the thunder and the roaring,through the lightning ... a voice resonated.A voice that shook the very heavens andthe universe in its wake.

Jesus stood, His arms outstretched, Hiseyes closed in ecstasy, as the voiceechoed through the fibres of His being toHis very core like a thousand softlyflowing waters – a sound infinitely more

beautiful than imagination had ever thecapacity to conceive: gracious, noble,valiant. The voice of His Father. Intensewith yearning, filled with grace andexquisitely tender – Yehovah.

‘Beloved Son...’Jesus lifted His face to the gentle,

shimmering, all-consuming light, His faceenraptured in the presence of His belovedFather.

‘I have not forsaken You.’Jesus sobbed in esctasy as Yehovah’s

voice saturated the pores of His being.‘Your eternal sacrifice is for the Race

of Men.’ The crimson shafts grew moreintense. Jesus inhaled sharply. Through theshafts of light, at the entrance of theRubied Door, on the very edge of the greatchasm, stood a form of immense stature,

swathed in a blazing wreath of light, Hisarms outstretched towards Jesus.

‘That they, too, may know Me.’And then, through the light, in the place

where the form’s countenance would be,what seemed like two immense shiningblack orbs became visible, gazing out ofthe brilliance. Gazing ... gazing ... gazingwith intense adoration and yearning uponJesus. And then a tear fell from Yehovah’seyes, down ... down ... towards Jesus.

Slowly the Rubied Door faded fromJesus’ sight, and the lightnings subsided,and the soft, warm breezes of the FirstHeaven transformed into the chill windsof the Kidron Valley.

‘That they, too, may know Me...’ Thewords echoed gently in Jesus’ soul. Jesusclosed His eyes. ‘Your will be done,’ He

uttered.He raised himself unsteadily from the

dirt, then gazed around in the darkness.Only Peter, James, and John still lay

against the gnarled trunks of the olivetrees, sleeping, their heads on the dampgrass.

The silence was shattered by the soundsof breaking undergrowth, accompanied byhushed voices coming towards them, thedarkness broken by the glare of swinginglanterns and torches on poles. Peter shotto his feet, his expression fierce, staringtowards the lights. John and James stirred.

Judas strode towards them, holding alantern at his face, freshly bathed, hisraiment crisp and clean, his companionshanging far back in the semi-darkness.

‘Hail, Master!’ he called, walking

directly up to Jesus.But Jesus’ attention was drawn to the

silhouette of a tall, cloaked figure whostood in the shadows, just paces behindJudas’s right shoulder.

Lucifer stood haughty, triumphant. Hestared at Jesus intently, an iniquitous smileon his face.

Jesus lowered His eyes from Lucifer’sgaze as Judas leaned over and kissedJesus lovingly, first on the right cheek andthen on the left.

Jesus stared at Judas. ‘Would youbetray and deliver up the Son of Man witha kiss?’

Judas lifted his right hand to his owncheek. On Judas’s fingers lay a strangecrimson liquid. He fell back. Ashen.Trembling.

Jesus raised His eyes to meet Lucifer’s.‘Remember, Lucifer.’ His voice was

soft as a breeze but razor sharp. ‘Yourkiss on My cheek, many moons past, in theFirst Heaven, when we walked together inMy garden.’ Lucifer stared down in dreadat the darkening crimson stain on his hand,his features contorted in agony from thesharp burning sensation in his right palm.

‘...When many worlds have long risenand fallen,’ said Jesus, His voice barelyaudible, ‘the Lamb will be slain.’

Lucifer stared steadily at Jesus, his facetwisted with trepidation and loathing.

‘I shall separate You from Yehovah.You shall share my fate – an eternity awayfrom Him. The vaults of hell await you,Nazarene.’ Then he wrapped his cloaktightly around him. And vanished.

A band of Jewish officers and servantsfrom the high priest’s palace brokeclumsily through the undergrowth. Theywere followed closely by a Romandetachment, armed with swords andstaves. A riotous, disorderly crowd ofvolunteers and curious strangers followed.

Jesus sighed. ‘Whom do you seek?’ Hecalled out.

‘Jesus the Nazarene!’ one called out.‘I am He,’ Jesus said softly.A raucous uproar erupted from the

officers and the unruly rabble as a mob ofsurly looking men advanced towards Him,their staves upraised. The chief priestsfollowed behind them.

Jesus lifted His hand, and immediatelya strange power fell over the advancingthrong. They fell back in dread.

‘Whom are you seeking?’ Jesusreiterated patiently, as though addressingslow children. ‘I told you, I am Jesus ofNazareth,’ He continued. ‘If you seek Me,let these go on their way.’

The head of the Roman detachmentseized Jesus roughly by the shoulders.Immediately Peter let out a loud roar andrecklessly drew his sword, strikingMalchus, body servant of the high priest,and slicing off his ear. The whole partyerupted and in the ensuing uproar, theRoman captain loosed his hold on Jesus.

‘Peter,’ Jesus laid His hand on Peter’sarm steadily, ‘permit them to seize Me,’He said quietly, placing His hand onMalchus’s ear.

Malchus backed away from Jesus interror, feeling his healed ear in

astonishment.Peter lowered his sword, stared wildly

at Jesus, confused, then tore franticallythrough the trees. James stood trembling,rooted to the ground, then lifted his robesand fled after Peter, followed immediatelyby John.

Jesus stood alone. ‘And you...’ Heturned His fierce gaze onto the chiefpriests, who stood staring at Him,petrified, their eyes filled with hatred.

‘Why have you come to arrest Me assome wild, bloodthirsty insurgent,wielding swords and clubs? I taught inyour temples and synagogues every day, infull view of you. You could have arrestedMe at any–’

A burly Roman soldier savagely threwJesus to the ground. He nodded, and six of

his detachment seized Him brutally.Zahi stood trembling, hovering on the

outskirts of the belligerent mob. His linengarments had been hurridly flung aroundhim after Joanna had hastily roused himfrom his slumber. He stood, tremblingbehind the tree, watching as the crowdsseized Jesus, pushing Him mercilesslydown the ravine, east towards Jerusalem.An uncouth youth glared at him and rantowards him.

Zahi fled in terror. The Hebrew was ingrave danger; He needed allies. He wouldsend Fariq, royal messenger, at once toAretas’ spring encampment; His father hadprotected the Hebrew once. As an infant.

Zahi would appeal to Aretas.

Chapter Thirty-four

The Witness

King Aretas and his entire royalhousehold were encamped at the Nabateancity of Mampsis in the central Negev. Heand his compatriot kings and caliphs ofPersia, Edessa, and Arabia were holdingroyal summit for the spring, with theblessing of Rome, to Aretas’ satisfactionand Herod Antipas’ fury.

Jotapa pushed past Ayeshe, into Aretas’festival tent. She was out of breath,dishevelled, and her black hair flewloosely escaping from its braids.

‘Papa! Papa!’

Aretas looked up from his ornatelycarved desk, weary from his royal papers.

‘Fariq, your royal rider – he eats withGhaliya in the kitchen tents, exhausted.There is news from Jerusalem?’ Jotapaasked. Aretas nodded. Grave.

‘Zahi?’ Jotapa trembled.Aretas shook his head. ‘The Hebrew,’

he said quietly, laying his quill down.‘The councils meet in Jerusalem.’ Jotapadrew up a velvet bolstered chair next tohis and earnestly took his old hands inhers. Aretas continued. ‘They wouldcondemn the Hebrew to death.’

Jotapa stared at her father. Apalled.The king took a deep breath and stood.

He paced up and down, then stopped nextto the tent entrance. ‘Fariq rode these pasthours with the royal missives. His stallion

recovers in the royal stables. They havearrested the Hebrew; it is certain. I wasnot going to alarm you till it wasconfirmed.’

Jotapa stared up at him, trembling. ‘It isrumours – propogated by the enemies ofthe Hebrew – those fat-jowledSadducees!’ she exclaimed.

Aretas shook his head sadly. ‘Alas, it isno rumour, Jotapa,’ he said softly. ‘Zahiwas there. He saw it all first-hand.’

‘Zahi...,’ she uttered. Ashen. ‘He wasthere ... at the Hebrew’s arrest?’

Aretas held out a missive to Jotapa,written in Zahi’s meticulous italic script.She tore it open and read the first lines,devouring each word.

Gently Aretas wrested it back from hergrasp. ‘He says they seized the Hebrew as

though He were a wild vagrant...’ Jotapagazed at her father bewildered. ‘Aninsurrectionist...’

Aretas folded the missive and placed itin a leather pouch. ‘At the Valley ofKidron. Zahi was a witness. He fled. Heasks for my intervention with Rome andthe Jewish authority on the Hebrew’sbehalf.’

‘But Zahi is wrong, Papa!’‘My mind is set.’ Aretas walked down

a path lined with rows of date palms. ‘TheHebrew was sent bound to the SadduceeAnnas after midnight, then to the halls ofhis son-in-law, Caiaphas. A privateinterview was conducted. At dawn Hewas led to that lavish architecturalmonstrosity the Praetorium ... But Pilatehas washed his hands of the matter.’

Jotapa ran to catch up with Aretas. ‘TheHebrew does not need your intervention,’she cried, breathlessly.

‘Jotapa – do you not grasp the severityof the situation? Your brother and theHebrew are in grave danger.’ Aretasstopped dead in his tracks. ‘My daughter, Idid not want to tell you this, but you haveforced my hand.’ He sighed. ‘At this verymoment, the Hebrew stands before HerodAntipas.’ Jotapa started to shake violentlyfrom head to foot.

‘But Herod loathes the Hebrew,’ shewhispered. ‘It is certain?’ Jotapa gasped,hardly able to speak, for the ice-cold vicethat gripped her heart. Aretas nodded.‘The wicked prince that once was myhusband will slay Him in cold blood, justas he did the Baptist.’

‘No.’ Aretas shook his head firmly.‘The coward Antipas suffered a greatpolitical setback from murdering theBaptist. He will be more circumspect withthe Hebrew. Indeed, he may well revertthe whole matter back to Pilate. Zahi isstill free, as are the others of those theycall His disciples ... But the Hebrew hasmany powerful enemies, both among theSanhedrin and in Rome. You must bebrave, Jotapa. Yohanna prepares thehorses as we speak. I leave for Jerusalemwith my royal guard to consult with Pilateimmediately.’

‘No, Father!’ she cried. ‘The Hebrewwould not want you to use your influence.’

‘I swore to protect Him!’ Aretasroared. ‘And I would protect Zahi!’Aretas’ hands trembled violently.

‘My son...’ Aretas took a deep breath,fighting for control of his emotions. ‘Myson ... is an academic, a studier of scrolls.He is no warrior. The rabble who followthe Hebrew are no match for the Romanarmies. I will send my royal guard.’ Heturned his back on Jotapa and walkedback towards his royal tent. Then stoppedin mid stride. Haggard. ‘I must send myroyal guard,’ he whispered.

Jotapa looked after Aretas, a terriblesorrow on her face. ‘Papa,’ she cried, ‘doyou still not know who He is – theHebrew, the one you so loved?’

Aretas shook his head wearily andcontinued walking; he turned at the tententrance.

‘Jotapa, this talk of miracles andwonders and blind eyes that see – my

child...’Aretas looked at her almost pleadingly.

Suddenly older, much older than his sixty-seven years.

‘I am a pragmatic man, Jotapa. I amconfused. Thirty years is a long time not tosee and yet still to believe. You tell methat my first-born, the son of my loins, ishealed, but I have not seen Zahi. I knownot whether it is myth or something more –whether the Hebrew is man or more.’

He sat heavily on a stone chair, ran hisfingers through his greying hair. ‘At times,Jotapa,’ he murmured, ‘my imaginationruns away with me.’

He turned to her. ‘But I am a king.Kings of Arabia dare not trust theirimagination...’ He stared out to the Negev,past the royal hunting parks, to the

horizon. ‘...I cannot.’‘Father,’ Jotapa grasped his arm,

‘remember that day, the day you talked ofincessantly when I was but a child – theday the Hebrew took your hand as a babe,and you lost your sight?’ Aretas growled.

‘You used to say, Papa, when youtaught me at bedtime when I was a child,that you lost your sight but gained yourinner soul.’

Aretas sighed deeply. ‘He will besafe,’ Jotapa declared. ‘It will be amiracle, just like the healing of Zahi andyour compatriot, King Abgar of Edessa,and all the other miracles He has wrought.Her eyes glittered with conviction. ‘Letthis be your sign, Father.’ She looked intoAretas’ eyes pleadingly.

‘You wear me down, Jotapa!’ he

glowered, though the severity of hisfeatures gradually softened.

‘Very well.’ He rose wearily to hisfeet. ‘Let it be as you declare. Let theHebrew defeat the Roman Empire withHis strange powers,’ he proclaimed. ‘Ishall tell Zahi that I stay in the North. Heand Duza must return here at once undermy protection.’

Aretas walked over to the carved altarat the back of the tent and picked up thesmall wooden cross. ‘The Hebrew shallprove He is a worthy King. I, Aretas, kingof Arabia...’ he held the cross high in hisright hand, ‘put the King of the Hebrews tothe test!’

* * *Jotapa sat fidgeting, mounted on her black

Arab stallion. Next to her, on a secondstallion, sat Ayeshe. Ghaliya had packedprovisions and water into foursaddlebags.

‘Ayeshe...’ Jotapa lowered her voice.‘You should not ride! My father will haveyou whipped for accompanying me.’

The old man gave her a broad, toothlesssmile. “I nursed your father since he wasan infant.’ His face was stern. ‘He willnot dare have me whipped. I am ninetyyears old. I was there at his side when theNazarene healed his soul. He became agreat king of Arabia, Aretas the Just, loverof his people, because his soul wasclean.’ The old man’s voice softened.‘Your father is ailing, princess. You gofor Zahi and the Hebrew; I go for a king’ssoul. I will go with you – I have chosen.’

Jotapa nodded. ‘You have chosen well,Ayeshe. Zahi waits for us in Jerusalem.’

Ghaliya’s hands trembled as shecurtsied to Jotapa. Jotapa took herservant’s hands in hers; Ghaliya’s eyeswere wet with tears. ‘Go, my princess. Bean eyewitness. Return to your father withthe stories of our Lord’s victoriousarmies. He will believe then, and allArabia will be saved.’

‘I go to Zahi and to the Hebrew,Ghaliya. I will bring back such a report,my father will never doubt again!’

The two stallions raced off into thenight. Ghaliya wiped her eyes. Then sheturned. Far in the distance, in front of theroyal festival tent of meeting, a lanternburned, and a figure stood in the darkness,watching as the stallions galloped away.

The light from the moon fell across hisface.

It was King Aretas.

Chapter Thirty-five

Antonia – AD 30

The dusty, overcrowded streets ofJerusalem were heaving with the news ofthe dynamic young prophet’s arrest. Jesusof Nazareth, darling of the masses, was tobe crucified. The horrifying whisper hadreverberated through the bustling Passovercrowd like a blazing wildfire. Womenthrew their aprons over their heads andwept unashamedly in the streets; crowdsof strong men picked up their staves andswords, all making their way through thecrammed Passover streets to thePraetorium.

It was barely dawn. The agitated mobof men, women, and children thatcongregated outside the judgement hallwas swelling rapidly. Weeping oldwomen had spun cloth for Jesus; harriedyoung mothers had risen at dawn andbaked bread for Him. They held theirbabes to their breasts, praying ferventlyfor Him. Paunchy middle-aged men whosaw their own lost fire of youth in Himclutched swords and clubs, ready toprotect Him with their lives.

But the largest of the multitude were theswarming horde of youthful zealots, who,away from the rigid oversight of theSadducees and Pharisees, all aspired tobe like the young prophet from Nazareth.He was their hero. They were determined:today Rome must go. A new and powerful

revolution was stirring in the streets ofJerusalem – one that would overthrowRome. This was their moment; they wouldfight for Jesus of Nazareth.

Accompanying these youths werethousands from the provinces, who hadjourneyed to Jerusalem for the Passover,each with a tale of how they had beenhealed, delivered, touched, transformed,regaling the clamouring crowds with theirstories of blind eyes being opened, lamelimbs walking, diseased flesh made new.

The youths’ incessant roar rose throughJerusalem’s reddening dawn skies. ‘Wewant Jesus!’ they cried. ‘Give us Jesus!’

All at once, the glowing skies grewdark with clouds as a freezing windsprang up blowing eeriely across the mob.Thousands of macabre black chariots

surrounded the judgement hall. Invisible tothe Race of Men. A hundred of Lucifer’ssatanic militia stood, towering at eachside of the crowd, led by Folcador and hisdark legions. Silence fell upon the crowdas the Roman procurator, Pontius Pilate,dressed in his lavish robes, strode out andsat down in a carved, cushioned chair. Hesighed deeply, then nodded to the soldierat his right.

Zahi watched, hardly daring to breatheas Jesus stumbled out for the third timethat dawn, shoved roughly from behind bya Roman soldier. Zahi paled in shock.Stunned beyond belief. The crowd staredtransfixed in revulsion and horror.

Jesus of Nazareth stood silent under thePraetorium’s colossal wings of whitemarble. Silent. His chest and limbs an

unending mass of bloodied, purple openwelts. Blood seeped from His openwounds dripping fresh onto the marblefloor next to Pilate’s golden-shoed feet.The once dark, handsome features werebattered and bruised, marred beyondcomprehension, the high cheekbonesbloody and grazed, and Jesus’ eyes, whichonce held such beauty, were purpled andswollen to almost twice their size. Thevibrant, handsome young prophet fromNazareth was almost unrecognizable.

Pilate beckoned Him forward. ‘I findno fault in Him,’ he declared. Theprocurator nodded once more, and thistime a scowling insurgent was draggedonto the podium, next to Jesus.

‘It is your custom that I release oneprisoner for you at the Passover.’ He

hesitated, surveying the crowd before him.‘So shall I release for you this “king of theJews” ... or this murderer, Barabbas?’

Huldah, overlord of the Shaman Kings,signalled to the shaman drummersencircling the arena. In compliance, as onethe macabre shamans placed black shofarsof rams’ horns to their lips and blew. Alow decadent subliminal aria soundedacross the crowd, and immediately astrange weblike substance enveloped theyoung zealots as thousands of minusculebat-like demons the size of locusts flurriedout from the blaring shofars. Theirbloodsucking talons ripped into theyouths’ scalps, slashing at their ears,noses, eyes. The youths stood, in a trance,oblivious to the demons’ harrassment.

Hundreds of bat-like locusts landed on

Zahi’s hair, their talons digging intoZahi’s scalp. Zahi shook himself as if in astrange fog. His mind suddenly filled withstrange and unsolicited thoughts. TheHebrew must have lied. He was just ajumped-up prophet from Nazareth, afailure. Why had Zahi left treasuries, apalace, a kingdom, for this failed prophetfrom Nazareth?’ He clasped his handsover his head. His mind felt numbed,drugged.

Then he stared down at the perfectlyformed soft, pink flesh of his hands. Thiswas no figment of his imagination. Heshook his head as if to dislodge the errantthoughts. He yearned for the strong,disciplined armies of Arabia to burstthrough the streets of Jerusalem and carrythe Hebrew and His followers away to the

sanctuary of Petra. Aretas would not failhim. He would wait. He looked aroundhim, perplexed, at the youths around himwho a minute ago had been demonstratingfuriously against Caiaphas and the Jewishleaders, screaming for Jesus’ release. Oneby one, the screaming, passionate voiceshad quieted as though afflicted with astrange stupor.

An ugly roaring grew from anotherlarge group of the gathered youths nearwhere the demons had landed. Abelligerent raucous chanting.

‘Not this man,’ they began to hiss inderision. ‘...Bar-Abbas! Give us Bar-Abbas!’ ‘Bar-Abbas! Give us Bar-Abbas!’

Bar-Abbas ... Bar-Abbas ... Bar-Abbas...’ the chanting became inflamed by

the hundreds of curious onlookerslingering about the Praetorium grounds inhopes of witnessing some gruesomespectacle. A strange unholy smog filledthe atmosphere, and as the crowd began toinhale the tepid air surrounding them, theireyes glazed and their faces grew pallidand grey. Then thousands of dark, hunchedwort devourers swarmed like a pack ofwolves among the crowd and as theclawed demons spewed a sticky tarlikesubstance from their fangs, whisperingsatanic enchantments, a horrifying, newchanting began.

‘CRUCIFY the Nazarene!’ they cried.‘Crucify the Nazarene!’ The demonizedcreatures clawed more deeply into theirskulls. ‘Crucify Him ... Crucify Him...’ themacabre mantra rose through the skies.

Jesus stared, through bloody, glazedeyes, far in the distance towards themonstrous black chariot that wasdescending swiftly through the darkeningclouds over Jerusalem.

Lucifer lifted his visor, his eyes gluedto Jesus’ blood-spattered face. Andsmiled in triumph.

Chapter Thirty-six

The Place of the Skull

The skies of the First Heaven were eerilysilent. Deserted. Nothing stirred save forthe eastern horizon that was completelyfilled by Yehovah’s white-featheredwarrior eagles hovering over the steeponyx foundations, under the heights of theclouds.

In supplication. Silent. Waiting.The twenty-four ancient Kings of

Yehovah lay prostrate, their faces flung tothe ground in the Gardens of Fragrance. Insupplication. Silent. Waiting.

Jether the Just knelt at the entrance to

the throne room, his head flung on thejacinth floor. In supplication. Silent.Waiting.

A vast, stormy whirlwind blew fromthe entrance of the great rubied throneroom, and out of this whirlwind burned agreat, blazing cloud of blue fire, filledwith flashes of lightning. Rumblings andthunderings emanated from its centre. TheGreat White Throne of incandescent lightdescended in the Holy of Holies. Seatedon the throne was the One whoseunspeakable brilliance of His being shoneas the blinding radiance of a million,million suns of the brightness of jasperand fiery sardius – the Ancient of Days,Yehovah.

Silent. Waiting. For His only begottenSon. The Prince of Glory. To be crucified

at the hands of the prince of the damned.* * *

Ten thousand times ten thousand ofheaven’s great angelic company weregathered in formation on the vast onyxplains of the Mount of the Congregation onthe farthest sides of the north of the FirstHeaven, their heads raised, right hands ontheir chests, kneeling before theircommander-in-chief.

‘My noble Angelic Warriors.’Michael’s tone was fierce but measured.‘This day, we face the most exactingundertaking of our Angelic Chronicles.What you are to witness will test yourmettle to its very core. We patrol thePlace of the Skull as observers.Provocation, no matter how brutal or vile,

serves as no justification for reactionarybehaviour.’ Michael paused. ‘Discipline.Restraint.’ He paced back and forth, hisfist clenched around his sword.‘Precision. Lucifer and his hordes’provocation this day will without doubtinflame even the toughest of angelicchampions. Draw on every ounce of yourrigorous training.’ Michael dropped toone knee. ‘For you will surely need it,’ hewhispered. He raised his head to Gabriel,who stood far off on the very top of thegleaming onyx mount, the Sword of Justiceraised.

‘Rise, fearsome dread warriors ofYehovah’s armies!’ Gabriel declared.

As one, the Hosts of Heaven rose.Silent. Their noble, burnished faces grim.

Michael lifted the Sword of State and

leapt into his chariot. Michael saluted,drew his silver helmet down over hisface, then rode followed by the FirstHeaven’s fearsome angelic legions intheir War Chariots.

To the Place of the Skull.Golgotha.

* * *Michael rode through the strangelydeserted skies of the First Heaven, theFirst Heaven’s armies thundering behind.His soul was filled with a terribleforeboding.

Swiftly he left behind the shimmeringindigo horizons of the Second and ThirdHeavens, riding the dark flashingthunderbolts, at last entering the strangeswiftly falling dusk that was descending

over Golgotha like a thick, shadowy veil,drawing ever closer to the Place of theSkull. His angelic host hovered well backin the murky skies.

The sweltering Palestine heat hungheavily in the darkening sky. Through thedescending gloom, Michael’s gaze wasdrawn to three figures nailed to threewooden crosses on the enormous starkboulder. A lone, frail figure was nailed tothe centre cross, His hair matted withcongealed sweat and blood. Michaelstared, horrified, unable to lower his gaze.

Jesus’ head was bowed, His tangled,bloody hair was fallen over His bruisedface, His body covered in wounds andputrefying sores, marred beyondrecognition, His eyes stared ahead,listless and dull, unseeing, His tendons

crushed, His veins lacerated by cruel ironnails. Jesus of Nazareth.

Slowly Jesus lifted His head, and for amoment His eyes became clear. Throughthe cloud of pain, a fleeting smile ofrecognition glimmered on His parchedlips.

‘Michael,’ he mouthed, His eyeslingering on the purple flag that flew highand proud from the pure golden cherubimand seraphim statues on Michael’s warchariot, the flag of the royal house,emblazoned with Yehovah’s golden seal.Then, suddenly, Jesus’ eyes filled with adeep apprehension.

Michael knew that he smelled devilryon the sultry breeze. He followed Jesus’clouded gaze. There in the distance,beyond Michael’s angelic warriors,

Satan’s champion, Moloch, prince ofdeath, proud and terrible, rode thedarkening clouds over Jerusalem. Hislegions of fallen satanic princes, thebutchers of Perdition, held Perdition’sbanner of death billowing out behind themas they drew closer to the Place of theSkull. The great satanic princes rode,followed by the fallen Archangels ofAshtoroth, the Thrones of Folcador, andthe Shaman Kings, their long, tangledblack hair flying, yellow eyes narrowed,green mucus dripping from their thin,purple mouths.

Michael hid his face from Jesus’searching, loving eyes, then rode higherabove the descending clouds, the hosts ofheaven following close behind asLucifer’s hordes began their descent

towards Golgotha. The menacing blackclouds descended swiftly, carrying thefallen hosts’ gleaming black war chariotsnearer to the three wooden crosses. Thesatanic princes watched with a broodingfascination from their chariots. Silent.Menacing. Millions of hell’s rabiddemonic battalions lined up behind themacross the horizon, a dark depraved hostof fallen angels and demons, waiting forthe spoils of war finally to fall into theirclutches. Today they would reap hell’sgreat trophy: the Nazarene.

Suddenly there was a great stirring inthe heavens. The battalions of darkchariots moved aside, creating a pathwayin the clouds for the mammoth dark-winged stallions that drew the monstrousblack iron war chariot that carried the

king of darkness himself. Thirty stallionssurged through the skies, their monstrousveined webbed wings beatingrhythmically to the dark arias of theNecromancer choirs of the damned.Slowly the war chariot descended onthunderbolts, directly above the Place ofthe Skull, opposite the central woodencross.

Lucifer rose from the chariot andstepped out onto a thunderbolt. He stood,arms folded, tall and imperious, Imperialruler of hell’s infernal army, hisinscrutable sapphire gaze riveted on thecontorted, blood-spattered face of theNazarene nailed to the wooden crossbelow him. Lucifer raised his arms to theheavens.

‘Omniscient Father.’ A deranged,

almost wrenching sob escaped him. ‘Iwould have spared you this...’ Hesurveyed the straggling crowd thatsurrounded the cross below.

‘Look what they have done to You,Nazarene...’ his strangled whisper wasbarely audible. ‘...this Race of Men –Yehovah’s obsession,’ he spat.

With enormous effort, Jesus struggled tolift His head from His chest, His gazebecame lucid. He held Lucifer’s gaze for along moment, His fierce, noble gazepenetrating to the very core of Lucifer’ssoul. Then Jesus’ head fell back onto Hischest.

Lucifer turned his head to see Michaelat attention standing in the distance,directly opposite him. ‘How the tables areturned now, brother,’ he hissed. Jesus

struggled again to raise His head. Michaelwatched helplessly as Jesus’ eyes filledwith the unfathomable distress of Hisseparation from His Father. Alone.Vulnerable. A slow malicious smile oftriumph spread across Lucifer’s face.

‘Oh how Thou art fallen ... Nazarene...’Michael stared ahead, his fingers

trembling, grasping the Sword of State.‘I shall kill His only begotten, Michael,

that I might again be His only begotten,’Lucifer leered.

‘Never will you be His begotten,Lucifer,’ Michael whispered, his voicesoft but forbidding. ‘You, the unrepentant,’he raised his face to Lucifer’s, his greeneyes blazing with passion, ‘are cut offfrom Yehovah and his mercies for alltime.’

‘This very day, Michael,’ Luciferhissed, ‘the Nazarene will be incarceratedin the vaults of hell.’

He looked back to the dying figure onthe cross, an evil fire flickering in hiseyes.

‘I return to Perdition!’ Lucifer lashedhis stallions savagely. ‘I unleash theCatacombs of Ichabod!’ he cried, thentook off and rode the thunderbolts,disappearing into the darkening purpleskies.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Golgotha

Jotapa moved swiftly through the thinningcrowd that, now tiring of its sport, wasturning for home. She was exhausted,worn out, having pushed Ayeshe and theroyal Arabian stallions to the limits oftheir endurance to reach Jerusalem inrecord time. And even so, she was toolate. Tears fell down her cheeks, sobswracking her body as she pushed her wayagainst the straggling throng. She andAyeshe had ridden to meet Zahi atJoanna’s house, only to discover that thetrial had been accelerated. The Hebrew

had been crucified.Joanna’s house was deserted. Zahi was

missing, perhaps in hiding – she couldn’tbe sure. It was all such a disaster!

Huge sobs racked her small frame. Hermind was racing. Why had she stoppedAretas from journeying to confer withPilate? Aretas, as king of Arabia, wieldedinfluence with the Hebrew leaders and theRomans. The Hebrew would still bealive. He could have taken refuge inArabia and preached to the masses, whowould have received Him as their own.

Jotapa moved onward. Nearer, muchnearer to the three crosses. She lifted herface to the centre cross, then placed herhand over her mouth to still her scream.The Hebrew was unrecognizable,bloodied and unidentifiable save for His

eyes – those clear, piercing eyes that werenow glazed over with pain.

It was her fault that He was dying ... herfar-fetched notions of His kingdom andHis Father, the king who would come andoverthrow Rome and save Him. Shemoved closer. His torn flesh was alreadybuzzing with flies. Birds of prey circledlow overhead. Jotapa’s flesh crawled.Exhausted, grief-stricken, and miserable,she fell on her knees in the mud, pushingher unruly locks off her grimy face withdusty gold-ringed fingers, too weak to liftherself up from the dirt.

Slowly she raised her head. A tallyoung man wearing a kingfisher bluecowled hood dressed in vestments of thevery affluent, stood back from the crowd,his gaze never moving from the figure on

the cross. She stared mesmerized,strangely drawn to him.

Slowly he turned his imperial face tohers. His beautiful features were flawless:the perfectly carved cheekbones; the long,fine platinum locks; the regal countenance.His gentle grey eyes were red-rimmedfrom weeping.

‘Do not grieve for Him, daughter,’ hemurmured. ‘You could not have savedHim.’ He placed his hand gently on hershoulder. She frowned, bewildered, as awarm, gentle tremor surged through herbeing, invigorating her entire body. Astrange comfort surged through her. Shefrowned. She had grown up surrounded bymonarchs. The Hebrew had influentialfollowers. This man was no commoner,his bearing was that of a prince. He was

of royal blood, she was certain of it.The young man turned his back to her,

gazing back up at the cross, his lipsmoving fervently in supplication.

Jotapa tore her gaze away form him androse unsteadily to her feet, searchingaround for Ayeshe, who was lost in thecrowd. A short way from Jesus ofNazareth’s cross stood Mary, His mother,and three of His disciples. Below Him,five red-faced drunken Roman centurionsplayed dice. A few yards from them, herlithe old Nabatean servant stared up at thecross, transfixed.

Jotapa watched as Jesus’ mouth moved,each word sheer agony. She leanednearer, straining to hear.

‘I ... thirst...’One of the soldiers staggered to his feet

as a second threw him a filthy sponge.Drunkenly, the first tried to thrust it intheir jug of Posca – that Jotapa knew to bethe cheap soured wine of the legionnaires,but the jug fell onto its side. The secondsnatched the sponge and, with his filthyhand, soaked it in the spilled wine.

Jotapa gasped, her grief swiftly turningto fury. ‘Ayeshe!’ she commanded. ‘Bringme the basket of medicinal herbs – hurry!’

She ran a few paces, grabbing a branchfrom the hyssop vines nearby, thenscrabbled in the basket, bringing out amedicinal sponge. Raising herself to herfull imperial height, she pushed throughthe drunken soldiers, catching the lastdregs of wine in the sponge. She turned tothe centurion and smiled coquettishly,holding the hyssop stick out to him.

‘He thirsts.’ She smiled pleadingly.‘Please...’ She gestured to Jesus.

The centurion looked at her with half-drunken interest. ‘You His sister?’ hedrawled.

Jotapa nodded vehemently. ‘Yes ... yes,I am His sister. Please help Him.’

She held her breath as the Romansoldier staggered to his feet and stumbledover to the centre cross, his companionslaughing raucously all the while. Heturned back to stare at Jotapa, who noddedeagerly, once again gesturing to Jesus. Sheheld her breath, desperate to soothe Hisraging, burning thirst.

She held her breath as the centurionthrust the hyssop stick to Jesus’ lips. Jesusdrank from it. Tears fell down Jotapa’scheeks. ‘Thank you! Thank you!’ she

sobbed, her eyes riveted on Jesus’ face.Thunder clapped, the dark clouds

opened in fury, and the rain started lashingdown.

Jesus opened His eyes. Looking straightat Jotapa, the faintest smile flickered onHis lips. She stared at Him, transfixed.Then His head fell back down onto Hischest.

Somehow, although she knew that itcould not be so, she sensed that He knewshe was there. Knew that she had tried tohelp Him. That He had been comforted.

‘Come, princess,’ Ayeshe cried abovethe storm, wrapping her in her cloak.

‘I cannot leave Him,’ Jotapa cried,rooted to the ground.

Ayeshe’s eyes grew fierce. ‘In amoment it will be too dark to see the way

back, princess.’ He grasped her arm.‘Zahi is ours,’ he added. ‘The Hebrew isnot of our world. His God will take careof Him.’

And Ayeshe drew her after him downthe hill, following the drenched andhorrified crowd away from the terriblescene. She hesitated as they passed theyoung man, who stood with his handsraised in jubilation, gazing upward inwonder, oblivious of the rain lashingdown on him.

She turned back to the cross, then toAyeshe. ‘We must find Zahi!’

* * *Lucifer vanished from the Crypts of theShadows into the Catacombs of Ichabodmaterializing before the towering garnet

altar.He strode swiftly past the monstrous

warlock cauldrons of bubbling hellbrothsand bladderwrack pushing past the greatmagenta veil, until he stood in the Unholyof Unholies.

The thirteen Warlock Kings of the Westknelt in the Inner Sanctum. They wereclothed in the glistening white highpriests’ garments of the Fallen, chantingincantations, their hands raised, butLucifer’s attention was fixed solely on thethree colossal shadowed Catacombs ofIchabod that lay behind them.

Eighteen misshapen three-headedShaman-Ogres stood, the height of thegates, a hundred feet high, guarding theCatacombs. Each spiked Catacomb Gatewas bound by monstrous iron shackles.

Dracul lifted his bony luminous greenface to Lucifer’s.

‘We are prepared for the unleashing ofthe Iniquities of the Race of Men from theCatacombs, Your Excellency. TheShaman-Ogres await your command.’

Lucifer nodded.The gargantuan Shaman-Ogres let out a

deafening roar, then tore the iron shacklesfrom the iron Catacomb Gates with theirmonstrous strength. The thirteen WarlockKings of the West raised their hands, theirlong white capes flying in the tempests ofIchabod.

‘Unleash the Iniquities of the Race ofMen!’ Lucifer cried.

As one, the Shaman-Ogres strainedtheir weight against the first mammothGate. Slowly it swung open. Instantly a

million black raging cyclones and clawedgrotesque demons erupted ferociouslyengulfing the Unholy of Unholies,knocking the Warlock Kings and Ogresviolently to the ground.

Only Lucifer stood in the midst of theferocious swirling black cyclones,drinking in the iniquities in sheerexhiliration. Then the black cycloneserupted violently straight through theCrypts of the Shadows, through the cupolaof the Black Palace in a savage churningblack mass headed straight for the Placeof the Skull.

* * *Michael walked up the Nave of the throneroom towards Jether. ‘I return fromGolgotha. ‘He bowed his head. ‘Lucifer

opens the Catacombs of Ichabod.’‘It has begun. He visits the entire

rebellion of the Race of Men on Christos.’Jether whispered. ‘Past, present andfuture.’ He bowed his head, his handstrembling.

Michael clasped his shoulder.‘Lucifer’s triumph will be shortlived.

He plays into our hands. It will soon beover.’

‘That they too may know Him,’ Jetheruttered.

* * *The ferociously seething cyclones swirledabove a rapidly growing gulf aboveGolgotha. Jesus’ hair blew violently asevery particle of His being was instantlyimmersed in a violent light storm that

coursed like an electric tempest throughHis being, lifting Him inches from thecross, then thrusting Him violently backagainst the coarse wood. He raised Hisface in horror to the black swirling galesthat raged overhead, visible only toGabriel and the legions of the FirstHeaven and those of the fallen.

The cyclones crashed through the gulf,their ferocious power unleashed on Jesusas generation after generation’s evildepraved ravings of the Race of Men andhell’s demons descended towards Jesus –a lewd wave of unending filth. A million,million blasphemies, the wicked darkenedimaginings of the Race of Men resoundedthrough the Place of the Skull.

‘Eloiiii!’ Jesus screamed, his voicedrowned out by the discordant, raging

profanities, ‘Father ... Fa ... th ... er...’,His agonized scream rang out through thedarkening skies as His body jerked withviolent convulsions.

Moloch and his slayers watched fromtheir chariots in exhilaration.

* * *The Catacombs of Ichabod fell silent.Nothing stirred. Finally Lucifer lifted hishead. Then raised his hand.

‘Release the Maladies of Ichabod!’ hecried. Instantly the eighteen Shaman-Ogrespulled the second mammoth gate open. Agrisly spine-chilling shrieking of amillion, million harpies erupted from theCatacombs. There was silence for a fullminute, then an infinite horde of purplebloodied harpies spewing hot sputtering

aids viruses and living writhing cancers,erupted from the yawning cavern. Millionsof leech-vampires of Infirmities, witheeled bodies, scaled wings and bat-likeheads writhed in the seething cosmictempests, disgorging plagues andleprosies from their ulcerated pale greymouths. An evil smile lingered onLucifer’s lips as they surged up throughthe cupola of the Black Palace, theirtranslucent wings flapping frenziedlythrough the Skies of Perdition, headedstraight for the Place of the Skull.

* * *The bloodied harpies and leech vampiresdescended on the centre cross like aviolent seething shroud, their pincers andtalons ripping into Jesus’ limbs. Their

ulcerated lips leeched onto His chestexpelling their infected viruses until Hisskin became a mass of purpled bloodiedwelts, a living writhing mass of rottingflesh. Leprous nodules covered His lipsand eyes, swollen thrice their size,swelling cancers multiplied and spreadacross His abdomen and chest, a whitefilm covered His eyes until Jesus staredahead completely blind. Gabriel loweredhis eyes from Jesus’ hideousdisfigurement.

* * *From the First Heaven, Xacheriel staredin horror at Jesus. ‘Every plague anddisease Lucifer has conjoured up in hissweltering crypts of Perdition he nowvisits on Christos...’

‘He bears the full brunt of Lucifer’smalevolent maladies calculated ahead todestroy the Race of Men.’

* * *‘Eloi ... Eloi...’ (‘Father ... Father...’)

Jesus’ blood-curdling cry reverberatedto the revelator eagles gathered on theeastern horizons, to the angelic companiesgathered in formation on the vast onyxplains of the mount of the congregation, tothe ancient elders of Yehovah lyingprostrate in the Gardens of Fragrance.‘Eloi...’ (‘Father!’)

Jether knelt inside the rubied entrance,his face raised to the throne. The chillingscream echoed down the desertedcorridors of the Tower of Winds, throughthe seven chambers of the labyrinths of the

seven spires, through the vast, stormywhirlwind that blew from the entrance ofthe great rubied throne room, to the great,blazing cloud of fire and lightning –resounding before the Great White Throneof incandescent light descended in theHoly of Holies, until it reached the Onewhose unspeakable brilliance of Hisbeing shone as the blinding radiance of amillion, million suns. The Ancient ofDays.

His agonized screams resounded off thethrone room walls.

Jether raised his head from the jacinthfloor, his eyes red-rimmed from weeping,and stood.

‘Jesus of Nazareth comes forth from theland of men bearing the darkness ofPerdition, bearing the Iniquities of the

Race of Men.And then the being seated on the white

throne spoke. His voice resounded throughthe incandescent white light, through thelabyrinths, and out to the entrance to theHoly of Holies ... Filled with sorrows.Full of compassions.

‘Open the doors.’ Yehovah uttered.Michael turned to his Generals and,

trembling, raised his sword.‘Yehovah’s Judgements commence!’ he

cried.* * *

Fifty of Michael’s battalion pushed thecolossal Rubied Door that soaredthousands of feet. A league down the naveof the throne room, in front of the altar,blew a fierce stormy indigo whirlwind of

thunder and lightning, and out of thewhirlwind burned a great blazing cloud.

From its epicentre a great and terribleroaring filled the throne room chamber.Deafening peals of thunder resoundedfrom the walls of the chamber, as thoughthe very atoms themselves were pulsating.Blue lightning bolts, shot through withburning white fires, brilliant as the orbs ofa thousand suns, flashed from themagnificent throne that was now faintlyvisible through the glare, more than aleague down the great nave. Seven blazingtorches burned in front of the throne asseven flaming columns of white fire, andin the midst of each torch glowed thecoals of the spirit of Yehovah.

Jether walked slowly into the blazingcloud of the whirlwind. ‘Behold the lamb

of God, slain for the iniquities of the Raceof Men awaits the Judgements ofYehovah.’ He collapsed to his knees.

* * *Gabriel stared up at the bruised andbattered figure on the centre cross fromunder his blue cowled hood. Jesus’ eyeswere dull, His hair matted and bloody. Astrange darkness was descending down onthe city, towards the Place of the Skull.Gabriel gazed, transfixed as thethunderous churning indigo skies forkedopen directly above the stark knoll.Ferocious blue bolts of lightning swirledfuriously above the yawning gulf.

‘The Judgements of Yehovah,’ heuttered in horror. Jesus raised His face indread to the swirling violet whirlwinds of

Judgement of the First Heaven that ragedoverhead.

The whirlwinds crashed through thegulf, their ferocious power throwing Himviolently against the splintered wood ofthe cross as the first blue bolt of lightningstruck Jesus’ body.

* * *‘Christos bears the Judgements ofYehovah for the iniquities of the Race ofMen,’ Maheel whispered, frozen.

* * *Gabriel watched in horror as a secondbolt of light and wind struck Jesus’ body,then a third, His back arced back and forthagainst the jagged wood in agonized pain,sweat pouring from His pores. Aterrorizing sound erupted of the torment of

a million, million damned souls, souls thatrejected Yehovah, the screams from thepenetentiaries of hell. Demented, wailingchilling screams resounded fromGolgotha’s skies. The blood-curdlingscreaming of a thousand, thousand futuregenerations destined for the Lake of Fireechoed across the Place of the Skull.

* * *‘He takes the place of the murderers,paeodophiles, adulterers, all that enact thedarkened deeds of the Race of Men...’Jether shook his head in wonder. ‘Thatthose of the Race of Men who wouldaccept His sacrifice may go free.’

* * *Moloch caressed his cat-o’-nine-tails, hismind racing back to his encounter with the

Nazarene over Lazarus, gripped by astrange unease. Then as another cyclonecame raging towards the cross from thedarkening skies Jesus began to scream. Achilling, tortured, agonized screaming. Aslow evil smile of understanding spreadacross the butcher of Perdition’s features.

‘He is separated from Yehovah.Butchers of Perdition – prepare theNazarene’s chariot!’ he roared. ‘He isours!’

‘Eloi ... Eloi!’ (‘Father ... Father!’)Jesus’ agonized spine-chilling screamrang out through the Palestine sky. Molochand his butchers cackled with demoniclaughter as a fourth and fifth whirlwind ofjudgement erupted from the throne. Jesusscreamed in agony as the whirlwindsstruck His temple with an intense ferocity.

Gabriel pushed his way through theviolent winds until he reached the verybase of the cross, his face just inches fromJesus’ mangled, lacerated feet. ‘Eloi...’(‘Father!’) Jesus screamed frenziedly inagony. ‘Eloi ... lama sabachthani?’(‘Why have You forsaken Me?’)

‘We are here, Christos...’ Gabrielwhispered, his hand clutching the wood ofthe cross. His entire body trembleduncontrollably. ‘He has not forsakenyou...’

Jesus’ eyes flickered open momentarily.A single tear rolled down His cheek.

‘That they, too, may know Him...’ ThenGabriel laid his head onto Jesus’ feet,sobbing wretchedly, his long fair locksmingling with Jesus’ blood.

Then as suddenly as the whirlwinds had

erupted, the Place of the Skull fell silent.* * *

The Rubied Doors closed with a shudder.* * *

Jether stood to his feet and staggeredtowards the secret passageway to theTower of Winds. ‘I make haste toGolgotha.’

Chapter Thirty-eight

The Veil

Jether moved swiftly through the thinningcrowd towards the knoll, staring up at thefigure on the centre cross, from under hiscloak, his gaze unwavering. The rainlashed down on his cheeks, the furiouswinds blew his cloak almost from hisshoulders. But his attention remainedsteadfastly on the figure on the crossbefore him as the strange and terribledarkness descended like a shroud acrossthe city of Jerusalem.

‘Have mercy, God!’ A petrified womanshrieked behind him as she ran to catch up

with the last of the stragglers leaving thehillside, racing vainly against thedarkness.

Out of the falling gloom, in front of thecross, Jether could faintly recognize theshadowy forms of the virgin mother andher faithful consolers.

And one other.The tall figure was peculiarly dressed.

Swathed in a great emerald chequeredvelvet cloak of exceptionally fine cloth,his features hidden under a wide-brimmed, pea-green suede fedora, the hatof a style not seen anywhere in the worldof men. There was something about hismanner, his bearing, that Jether founddisquieting.

Lightning struck again, and this time itsbolts reverberated with such intensity on

the Place of the Skull, that Jether thoughtthe entire knoll might collapse in two. Athird strike illuminated the sharp, bonyfeatures of the cloaked form. Jetherrecognized him instantly.

It was Charsoc, the grand magus,Lucifer’s dark sorcerer, watching withpale, sightless eyes through his eviltwisted spirit as only a fallen angelicbeing could. He tipped his hat to Jether inpassing acknowledgment and continuedhis incessant staring at the Nazarenenailed to the cross.

Jether wrapped his cloak tighter and,mustering all his strength, thrust his bodystep by step against the ferocious galesuntil he stood only a pace away fromCharsoc.

‘Could your carrion’s heart not even

leave Him alone until His last?’Charsoc smiled faintly.‘Ah!’ he said, his eyes not leaving Jesus

for a second.‘Your discernment is accurate, as usual,

revered Jether. We await the pickings ofthe slaughter eagerly. But today I am, youcould say, the controller of theproceedings. It is my responsibility toascertain the second His last breath in ourdomain is extinguished. I shallimmediately verify my findings in thecourts of Perdition; then He is legally ourproperty. Our prince of carnage awaits inhis chariot.’ Charsoc motioned to wherethe sadistic and menacing Moloch stood,his craggy face raised. Leering from thethunderbolt.

‘The butcher of Perdition – it is a

moment I shall greatly relish.’He gestured towards his own white

gaping eyeballs.‘It may have escaped your memory, but

I have the Nazarene to thank for my eternalsightlessness. And after our little tête àtête in the seventh chamber, have no naiveexpectation that my mercy shall exceed myvengeance, Jether.’ He caressed hisscarred bony fingers.

‘I am thin-skinned.’Jether lowered his eyes.‘And what are your procedures?’ he

asked, his voice dangerously quiet.‘The second the Nazarene breathes His

last on this planet, Moloch and hisbutchers have orders to seize Him. Hedies on this planet, with defiled blood, asone of the Race of Men – therefore, we the

fallen have jurisdiction over His body. Heis ours. And our emperor, Lucifer, is Hissovereign king. He will make a grandbargaining chip with Yehovah, I don’tdoubt. But don’t think, Jether, even for amoment that He will be returned to theFirst Heaven in the same pristinecondition in which He left ... His tortureof today is but a pale shadow of whatawaits Him in the Penitentiaries of thelower vaults of Perdition...’

Still Charsoc’s eyes never left Jesus’form.

‘There is already revelry in the vaultsof the damned, awaiting His arrival. Heshall be exhibited on the gates, but firstMoloch shall lash Him to the black altarwith barbed cords and torture Him withthe hellhounds until He renounces

Yehovah.’Jether said, ‘Your fall from grace has

almost surpassed your master’s, it wouldseem.’

Charsoc smiled slowly. ‘The Nazarenefades,’ he observed dryly. ‘The life forcesof the Race of Men ebb from Himswiftly.’

Jether stared at Jesus’ lacerated veins,the gaping wounds from the recentscourging which were already turninggangrenous, the bruised and broken body,so bloodied it was marred beyondrecognition.

Then, through the raging pain, Jesuslifted His head.

Charsoc followed His gaze, noting thatHe looked straight and deliberatelytowards Jether. For a fleeting moment,

Charsoc could have sworn that a strangeand exhilarated triumph lit the glazed andbloody eyes.

Then the voice that stilled the waters,that calmed the raging storms, thatcommanded satanic princes to be still, thatopened blind eyes, and shattered thebowels of death uttered its last.

‘Tetelestai!’ (‘It is finished!’) Jesusscreamed in exhilaration.

‘Tetelestai! Tetelestai!’ He cried. ‘It ...is ... finished!’ He screamed, screameduntil His voice was hoarse. Screameduntil the last of His life force ebbed fromHim in total exhaustion. Screamed untilHe expelled His final agonized dyingbreath.

Jether stared, trembling. ‘His soulexchanged for the souls of the Race of

Men,’ Jether whispered, tears minglingwith the hot rain on his cheeks, his faceraised to the heavens in wonder.

Charsoc watched, a strange uneasinessfilling his soul. Mystified. Then Jesus’head dropped onto His chest.

* * *The heavy, glistening white veil of theFirst Heaven hung before the incandescentwhite throne beyond the Rubied Door, inthe throne room of the First Heaven.Millions of angels lay prostrate.Unmoving before the throne.

Two resplendent great hands of lightgrasped the veil. Then with onemovement, rent it from top to bottom.

‘That they, too, may know Me!’Yehovah cried.

* * *All at once, a great cacophony of thedamned erupted from the bowels of theearth – a hellish din of triumph rising fromthe nether regions as the satanic shofarsounded.

And then, suddenly, from every quarteralmost simultaneously, a strange,inexplicable silence fell. The infernalcaterwauling subsided until there was nosound at all in the heavy, swelteringPalestine sky.

A subliminal roaring began that shookthe trees and the three crosses above onthe hill.

The earth underneath Charsocshuddered and he was flung to the groundviolently, the rocks sliding beneath hisfeet as he clung to the boulders about him.

But even as Charsoc clawed the bouldersfor safe refuge, they split into smithereensabout him. He lay face down in the dirt,the ground shuddering violently beneathhim.

Jether watched in trepidation, theground beneath him firm, seeminglyuntouched by the raging cataclysm.

‘This man was truly the Son of God!’yelled a Roman centurion in terror, divingfor safe cover.

Charsoc stumbled to his feet, levitatedthrough the air, his jet black hair andbeard blowing violently in the ragingwinds, until he stood next to Moloch in thechariot. He hung on to his strange broad-brimmed hat.

‘Call for the dark scribes!’ Charsoccried, his eyes lit up in fervent

exhilaration. ‘We verify the Nazarene’sdeath in the courts of Perdition.’

‘The Dark Watchers stand ready todeliver the findings to the First Heaven’shigh council, to be witnessed in EternalLaw,’ Moloch growled.

Charsoc clapped his hands in triumph.‘Moloch, my wicked prince!’ He gesturedto the now limp and lifeless body hangingfrom the cross.

‘Transport our master’s booty to yourslayers for the triumphal procession.’Charsoc turned deliberately to Jether.‘Our master awaits us.’ He smiled a smileof the damned. ‘Escort the Nazarene tohell!’

* * *Moloch’s barbarous satanic vandals

wrenched Jesus of Nazareth’s spirit fromthe bruised and battered body on thecross. Instantly it took on the same form asthe body it had inhabited, though it was ofa different, more ethereal substance.Otherwise it was identical.

Moloch’s fallen host manacled Jesus’wrists and ankles with heavy iron fettersthat ripped cruelly into His tortured flesh.‘Your sorceries are spent, Nazarene!’Moloch leered. ‘Bind His mouth!’ hecommanded. The butchers bound Jesus’mouth with filthy cloth soaked in deadlynightshade, then brutishly hauled Him ontotheir shoulders, seizing Him in a vice-likegrip.

Moloch raised his whip. Instantly, theywere sucked violently downward asthough by some ferocious centrifugal

force. Downwards ... downwards,thousands of miles downward, towardsthe molten core of the Earth, the party ofthe damned descended.

Down through the mouths of seethingvolcanos. Through boiling seas of moltenlava, until they emerged into the strange,churning violent world of floatingcontinents and upside-down mountainsthat raged at 11,000 degrees Fahrenheit,the blast furnace that was the outskirts ofhell.

* * *Michael turned to the angelic legions.Ashen. ‘Gabriel meets us on the plains ofPerdition. Christos commandeers the Arkof the Race of Men. We prepare forassault.’

Chapter Thirty-nine

Hell’s Gates

The massive iron Gates of Hell soared athousand feet high into the hazy, bleakgloom of hell’s smouldering skies.

Six hundred gargantuan, jaundiced-eyeddemonic seraphim nested on top of thecolossal black iron gateposts of Perdition,their great scaled claws slashing at theposts. Red hot fires flamed from theirnostrils and ears. Their black-veinedwebbed wings flapped like giant bellowsas they patrolled hell’s skies, fanning theblistering blue flames of hell’s ‘Ring ofFire’. Hell’s sentries.

The great circular chasm of blue flamesblazed miles high, stretching from the baseof the gates, encircling the savage,scorching black pitch plains of Perdition.

Lucifer, magnificently attired in hisceremonial regalia, reclined on his blackdiamond throne, which was carried on theshoulders of twelve satanic princes. Hisgleaming raven hair, intricately plaitedwith flaming jewels, fell past hisshoulders to his glistening satin garments.On his head rested his crown of state ofpure gold embedded with chrysolite andblack rubies. A glistening white cloakhemmed with ermine was draped acrosshis shoulders, and his sandals were offreshly molten gold. He held hell’s sceptrein his left hand.

The king of hell. Followed by

thousands of his menacing satanic warriorprinces, who in turn were led by theghoulish company of hooded ShamanKings, hell’s macabre drummers. Thelegion of Necromancers, wizards of thedead, marched near the gates, their greatarmies of skeletons and zombies filling theplains.

Charsoc walked below Lucifer, next tothe procession, his hat and cloak nowexchanged for his favoured brightvermillion and orange striped flowingrobes of Chief Magus. His sorcerer’s hatwas pointed, its tip and rim of platinum.His scarlet shoes were long and narrowand curved upwards at the toe withdiamond buckles that changed colour witheach new dark incantation. Charsoc heldhis crooked magus rod high. Live serpents

writhed from under the folds of his robesonto the burning pitch below.

Ahead of both Lucifer and Charsoc, inadvance of the fiendish parade, swaggeredthe leering Moloch and his horde ofstrapping demonic butchers, to theominous rhythm of hell’s pulsating wardrums.

Jesus, manacled and bound, clad only inthe bloody loincloth in which He wascrucified, was raised high on the massiveoiled shoulders of ten of Moloch’s mostdepraved slayers. They marched directlyin front of Lucifer.

The Nazarene – hell’s trophy.As the demonic armies approached the

gates, the skies grew black with thousandsof screeching banshees. They hoveredoverhead, hissing asps flowing from their

bare skulls, their wings beating furiouslyas the riotous hellish army continued itsmarch to the slow mutinous rhythm ofhell’s throbbing war drums.

The ‘Ring of Fire’ flamed ferociously.Hundreds of the seraph monsters left theirnests and swooped down across the gates,their nostrils flaming, smelling theintruder. Their jagged claws slashed,hovering menacingly over the manacledJesus.

A great shuddering drew nearer as aband of Shaman-Ogres lumbered towardsthe entrance, then peered through the ironbars, their squat yellow eyes glinting inthe semi-darkness.

‘We are the keepers of the Gates ofHell and the grave,’ a voice rumbled.

‘We await you and your trophy, O

Satan, king of hell,’ Ruber, leader of theShaman-Ogres growled through the ironbars, leering at Jesus. The war drumsstopped, and a heavy silence fell, brokenonly by the vicious snarling of the five-headed sentry hellhounds.

Twenty of the Luciferean Black Horde,led by Dagon, marched forward out of thedarkness. Carried high on their shoulderswas a huge black casket. ‘We present thekeys of hell,’ Dagon roared.

The Black Guard placed the casketdown before the gate and bowed deeply toLucifer.

Dagon unlocked the casket and openedit.

Lying on a bed of magenta velvet wasan enormous golden key, engraved withangelic lettering, a ruby embedded in its

crown.Dagon nodded to his militia, and six of

them hoisted the key up onto theirshoulders and marched over to whereRuber stood, waiting in front of the lock.

Ruber held out his huge leathery hand,lifted the master key upward, and placed itin the lock, then turned it. The sound of ahundred monstrous locks of hell unboltingresounded through the lava plains.

‘Welcome to your domain, master. Helland the underworld await you.’

A hundred Shaman-Ogres heaved theiron monstrosity back. Slowly themammoth gateway opened, the entranceinto the molten core of the earth. Theunderworld of departed spirits. Fiery bluetempests howled through the gates whilemolten lava rain lashed down on the

procession as it passed through. Balberithwaited next to Lucifer’s magnificent dark-winged royal stallion, tethered inside thegates.

Ahead loomed a raised road of crystalore, with seething pitch glowing redbeneath it. The road became a fluid glasspassageway that fell away on both sidesinto a blasting chasm of molten iron orethat stretched thousands of miles belowinto the very bowels of the earth. This wasthe Crystal Corridor of the underworld,some three thousand miles below thesurface and some fifteen hundred milesacross – earth’s inner core.

Ahead, glistening through the crystalcore, a league in the distance, stood theBlack Palace – Lucifer’s imposing palaceof black crystal. Inside the palace citadel,

resting beyond the magenta veil in theblack necropolis, lay the ‘Ark of the Raceof Men’, guarded by the satanic warriorsof Lucifer’s Black Horde, his elite militia.

To the left of the corridor, through thetransparent liquid crystal walls, loomedhell’s monstrous penitentiaries, whichincarcerated the wicked dead.

Millions of penitentiaries housingLucifer’s penal colonies were hewn out ofthe jagged iron cliffs, which stretchedsteeply upward thousands of feet andplummeted thousands of feet downward –the labour camps of the damned.

A thunderous malicious caterwaulingrose from behind the iron bars – thetormented screams of millions of thewicked dead from the Race of Men,mingled with the cackling roar of hell’s

prison warders, the wort devourers andbanshees that lined the corridor toPerdition, shrieking their incantations ofthe damned. To the right of the corridor,beyond a great gulf, lay the strange,gloomy shadowlands, the abode of theslumbering Righteous dead. The Grave.

It was one monstrous sheer block oftranslucent crystal that stretched thousandsof miles above the corridor and fellthousands of miles beneath.

The twelve satanic princes laid Luciferand his throne onto the ground. Luciferrose. He turned, surveying Jesus, liftedhigh on the arms of Moloch’s Philistinehorde as they marched through thetempests and molten rain towards him. Heraised his arm. ‘Deliver the Nazarene tothe underworld!’ he cried, then pulled his

cape tighter around him and mounted hisstallion. Its black veined wings extended,and they flew ahead, straight into theraging tempests.

Instantly the party was suckeddownward until the grey shadows of helldimmed to the oppressive pitch blacknessof the lower crystal road, lit only by theflickering lanterns of the wort devourers.

* * *‘On the left, Nazarene...’ Lucifer smiledviciously as Moloch roughly pushedJesus’ head to the left, ‘...the rabble of theRace of Men who reject Yehovah –blasphemers, murderers, rebels...’

Screaming men and women, their eyesveiled with grimy opaque film, clawedblindly at the iron penitentiary walls, their

lower bodies burning alive in the seethingblack lava.

‘And now the crème de la crème of theRace of Men – the intellectuals...’ Luciferturned disdainfully towards the chainfences where a group of prisonersscreamed in torment, clawing wildly, thefingers of their spirit bodies torn andbleeding, their nails ripped from clawingthe jagged barbed barrier.

‘Atheists, philosophers, agnostics – allrejecting the existence of a personalcreator. Their god was their own mindsand opinions. They scream the mostvolubly when they arrive in my domainand discover that I was real.’ Lucifersmiled. ‘When they realize that Yehovahexists,’ he shrugged, ‘they are driven outof their minds and beg for death.’ Lucifer

raised his hand. ‘Release the hell bullsinto the penitentiary, Adzeal.’

A hundred raging snarling hell bulls,each weighing two thousand pounds,pawed the lava with their horn hooves,then charged the damned prisoners, theircurved horns goring their bodies, throwingthem onto a pile of writhing screamingprisoners in the corner of the burningblack pitch.

‘But then, this is hell. There is no death,only torments ... And now, Nazarene, myprized ones...’

Moloch grabbed Jesus by the hair andswung His head violently to the right,beyond the great chasm. There wascomplete silence in the strange blackgloom of the shadow lands. ‘My Master’sshadowed realm,’ Moloch growled.

Gradually, the black faded to a greatgrey darkness.

Lucifer’s voice dropped to a low,intimate tone. ‘The grave,’ he whisperedin awe.

They rode slowly past the brazen gatesof the monstrous great crystal barricadesof the underworld – the dim outlines of themillions of men and women incarceratedin the murky ice lay as if in some strangeslumbering limbo.

‘They are all who have fallen asleepsince the beginning of the world,’ Charsocwhispered to Jesus. ‘All who worshippedYehovah, Nazarene.’

‘They sleep the slumber of the righteousdead,’ Lucifer hissed, ‘Never to awakenin my domain.’

They passed thousands more of the

floating slumbering bodies frozen into thesheer block of ice. Almost godlike instature, even in their slumber, it wasobvious that they were nearly seven feettall, with angelic features and an unearthlyglowing radiance that still issued fromtheir bodies.

‘Souls from the times of Adam,’ gloatedCharsoc. ‘The glory of the Race of Menhas diminished through the centuries – aconsequence of the fall.’

‘The glory of Perdition,’ Lucifercrowed. ‘His prophets, patriarchs, allwho belong to Yehovah ... who belong toYou, Nazarene – all under my jurisdiction.And when my time is up, according to myclaim lodged in the councils of the FirstHeaven, each of them shall join me in theLake of Fire.’

* * *Over a hundred million of the FirstHeaven’s angelic warriors assembled onthe sprawling bleak plains of Perdition,outside the Gates of Hell. Their armiesstretched to the horizon in every direction.

Ahead of the vast angelic legions,positioned directly in front of themonstrous iron gates, rode Jether and thetwenty-three ancient heavenly kings,mounted in a semicircle on their wingedwhite chargers. Imperial and forbidding.Their lances flashed with the lightnings ofYehovah and were upraised in their righthands. In their left they held high theblazing crimson standards with the sign ofthe cross.

On either side of them marched theheralds, the ‘Proclaimers’, blowing their

shofars, with the banners of the FirstHeaven lifted high. Following them cameten thousand Great White Knights, theirbattering-rams at the ready.

Directly behind them, led by Gabrielattired in full battle regalia, marched hisvast company of swift and agile archers,the Revelators, in suits of gleaming silverarmour.

Overhead flew a million of theRevelator scouts, filling the length andbreadth of the skies – the First Heaven’shuge white-feathered warrior eagles.Around each eagle’s neck was a circlet ofgold embedded with rubies: the warriors’homing beacons.

Filling the plain to Gabriel’s rightthundered Michael’s imperial knightsmounted on their gold-caparisoned war

stallions. Their gleaming broadswordswere raised high, following the mightycommander of heaven’s armies.

Michael rode bareback on his enormousblack war stallion, covered from head totoe in his ceremonial golden armour, theSword of State raised high in his righthand.

Escorting him and his armies were theimmense company of the White WingedLions of Yehovah, their white manesglistening, their enormous white wingsextended. Their thunderous roaringresounded across the plains and echoedthrough the penitentiaries of hell.

The Great and terrible Armies of theLord.

* * *

Dagon galloped his charger towardsLucifer and Charsoc. ‘The First Heaven’sarmies gather on the plains of Perdition,Your Majesty,’ he growled. ‘Yourbrothers, the great princes, lead them.’

‘Yes, yes...,’ Lucifer said dismissively.‘I hear the roarings and commotion. Weknew they would assemble.’ He smiledtriumphantly at Charsoc. ‘We hold theirKing.’

‘They have no claim,’ Charsocdeclared.

Lucifer nodded, grinning evilly.‘Michael well knows that if they so muchas set foot through my gates, they trespassaccording to Eternal Law ... And mybrothers are sticklers for Eternal Law.’He yawned. ‘Relay to my royal brother amessage. Tell him I have a tomb specially

prepared for the Nazarene: the blacksepulchre.’

‘And I have one waiting for Michael!’Moloch roared.

A mighty roar rose up from Moloch’sbutchers. ‘Tear Prince Michael asunder!’they howled.

Lucifer smiled. ‘Let us forget mybrother’s torments for the moment. Wehave our prize – we hold their King.’

‘My Lord...,’ Moloch bellowed, hisvoice full of dark intent. ‘Permission forsome sport, great king of hell.’ He boweddeeply, and Lucifer nodded. ‘We wouldbow before the Nazarene,’ he said, leeringat Jesus. ‘We would crown Him King.’

A grotesque smile lit up Lucifer’s face.He nodded.

‘Let us crown the Nazarene King!’

Moloch roared. At this, a strident wailrose from the wort devourers, soonechoed by the depraved multitudes insidethe hellish penitentiaries.

The grim procession slowed at the darklaboratories. A party of cackling, orange-haired, deformed dark younglings emergedfrom the vast, sweltering undergroundcorridors carrying a cruel-looking ironcontraption, still glowing-hot from thesmelting cauldron, to Moloch. It was atwisted iron crown of thorns moulded iniron.

Lucifer nodded. ‘Crown the Nazarene,that He may be King of hell for a moment.’

Jeering laughter broke out anew amongMoloch’s legions. Hysterical cackles anddemented laughter broke out on every sideas Moloch lifted the scorching crown in

his brawny arms, high above Jesus.‘Unbind His mouth, that we may hear

the Nazarene’s screams of agony!’Moloch roared. At once the vandals toreaway the filthy cloths that gagged Jesus’lips.

Moloch pushed the cruel, jagged hotiron thorns down savagely onto Hiscaptive’s skull.

An earth-shaking tremor shuddered, andat once the crystal road collapsed into theburning pitch, like a magnet sucking thearmies of hell down into the orangeflames. As volcanoes spurted white-hotinfernos around them, Moloch hoveredabove the jagged remains of the crystalpath. One by one, his twelve butchers fell,sucked down by the ferocious flames.Charsoc was flung facedown onto the

road, his eye sockets burning, his bodytwisting in agony. ‘The Nazarene!’ hecried as a blinding flash illuminated theshadowed penitentiary of the grave.

Lucifer watched in horrified disbeliefas the brazen gates at the entrance to theshadowed realm shattered, the iron bars ofthe penetentiaries smashed to smithereens.Jesus of Nazareth had vanished. ‘Where isthe Nazarene?’ Lucifer screamed.‘Mobilize hell’s armies. Take everygeneral, each satanic prince, to the BlackPalace. Post them at every entrance.Command Dagon ... Darsoc – safeguardthe black necropolis. The Nazarene wouldcommandeer the Ark of the Race of Men!’

He stared past Charsoc in horror as theslumbering inmates of the shadowed realmstarted to rouse inside their crystal prison.

A blinding purple light flashed,illuminating the shadowlands as bright asa thousand thousand suns.

‘Do it now!’ he screamed, shielding hiseyes as the iron penitentiary cliffscrumbled. ‘The Nazarene would overturnhell!’

* * *The vast armies of the First Heaven stoodat attention, waiting in silence. Michaelrode to Jether and the ancient ones in frontof hell’s gates. All twenty-four kingsraised their white-crowned heads fromtheir supplications.

Jether nodded to Michael.Michael raised his hand, and a great,

thunderous cry arose across the plains.‘Storm the Gates of Hell!’ Michael cried.

‘Lucifer is mine!’

Chapter Forty

Warrior King

Jesus strode through the marble halls ofLucifer’s Black Palace, across thegleaming lapis floors, His imperialcountenance set. His indigo robe billowedas He walked under the vast ornamentalceilings, past the sinister frescos thatadorned the walls of Lucifer’s innersanctum. He raised His silver lash ofcords in His fist; instantly the twoenormous black gates to Lucifer’s throneroom flung open before Him.

Facing Him, a league away down thenave, in front of Lucifer’s empty glistening

diamond throne, stood ninety ferociouswarriors – Lucifer’s elite militia generalsof the Black Horde. Dagon and hisgenerals stared at Jesus in disbelievingdread.

Behind the throne lay a colossal blackgarnet altar, its gleaming surface coveredwith thousands of spluttering black taperspermeating the chamber with the aroma ofpure frankincense. Above loomed anenormous translucent vortex of blackcrystal. Beyond the altar lay the GoldenGates of the Chamber of the BlackNecropolis that housed the Ark of theRace of Men.

‘You trespass, Nazarene,’ hissedMulciber. Thick yellow drool fell fromhis black tongue onto the crystal floor.

The vigilantes stared defiantly at Jesus,

their broadswords raised, their palestraw-coloured eyes narrowed, theirmangled faces contorted with evil.Snarling black yellow-eyed jaguars pacedrestlessly, chained to their depravedmasters, their black fangs visible.

‘What do you want of us, Nazarene?’Ramuel spat, his eyes glinting withiniquity. ‘We are the fallen – you have noplace with us...’

Ramuel circled Jesus slowly like awolf gauging its prey, his axe held high.Twenty of his gigantic minions joined him,their maces, cudgels, battle-axes, andcutlasses raised, their filthy braided blackhair dangling past their thighs.

Jesus stood unmoving.Dagon, towering a full head over his

minions, shoved Mulciber and Ramuel out

of his path. Fresh goat’s blood drippedfrom his mouth and nostrils. Leering atJesus through his glazed pale eyes, heshoved his iron ball and chain under hisenemy’s chin. Jesus deliberately unwoundthe lash. He could see Dagon’s reflectionin the crystal floor.

‘Look at me when I speak, Nazarene!’he bellowed. He screamed instructions ina guttral angelic tongue to his militia,raising his other hand, which held a cat-o’-nine-tails tipped with jagged glass andserrated iron.

He lifted Jesus’ head up, in line withhis shoulder, but Jesus’ eyes remainedlowered, intent on Dagon’s reflection.

Then Dagon swung his cat-o’-nine-tails,aiming straight for Jesus’ neck.

Jesus swung His lash towards Dagon’s

whip and sent it clattering to the ground.The demonic horde laughed raucously.

‘Butcher the Nazarene!’ bellowedDagon, lunging for Jesus with his sword.

Jesus swung His lash a second time. Ittightened around Dagon’s brawny neck.He pulled it tighter, till Dagon staggeredto the floor, retching for breath. Jesusraised His gaze, and Dagon clutched hiseyes with his hands, screaming in agony.Then Jesus turned to face the fallen rebelsas the packs of snarling black yellow-eyedjaguars leapt ferociously towards Him,their black fangs snarling.

Jesus signed towards them with onedeft movement. The jaguars fell backwardas one, whimpering, slinking away throughthe throne room gates.

‘The Nazarene’s sorceries!’ shrieked

Mulciber.Jesus gazed beyond the altar, past the

dark sanctum, towards the chamber of theBlack Necropolis.

Dagon followed his gaze. ‘Loose thehellhounds, Menelik!’ he screamed,writhing on the ground. ‘He seeks the Arkof the Race of Men!’

A skeletal creature with vampiric fangsreleased the lock on a huge iron cage, andfifty black hellhounds, each with fiveheads breathing fire from their nostrils,raced towards Jesus with bared fangs.

Jesus raised His hand. The snarlinghellhounds sprang at Him, thrown backviolently by the invisible shieldsurrounding Jesus. They fell, stunned tothe floor, yelping.

Dagon clutched blindly for his sword,

one hand still over his eye. ‘I shall destroyyou, Nazarene,’ he snarled.

Jesus bent down and grasped him by thescruff of the neck, holding him off thefloor till he screamed for breath. ‘You andyour master, Satan, have no claim on Me!’

Jesus flung Dagon to the ground asLucifer’s legions burst through thedoorway. A thousand of Lucifer’s darkminions stormed towards the robed figure,brandishing their blades and snarlingobscenities.

Jesus raised His right hand, and ascorching sheet of flame rose from thefloor and descended onto the renegadeangelic host.

‘The consuming fire!’ Ramuelscreamed, flailing at his blistering hands.

Nerve-jangling screams resounded

throughout the chamber as the fallen werecaught by the scorching, consuming wavesof fire, to fall, burning alive, onto theground. Their weapons clattered uselesslyon the lapis floor.

Finally, the great and terrible Dagonknelt, trembling in dread, before Jesus. Heremoved his helmet and held it at hischest, his head bowed. ‘We the fallen areconquered by You, O Nazarene.’ He heldout his sword.

‘We are conquered by You,’ thousandsof dark voices echoed.

Dagon raised his head in terror towhere Jesus stood fierce and silent, Hishead bowed. ‘Not the Abyss, Nazarene!’Dagon whispered, his hands shakinguncontrollably. ‘We beg You, Nazarene,not the Abyss!’ Tortured wails resounded

from all across the chamber. Jesus raisedHis head.

A great thundering erupted towards theterrorized fallen horde. A split secondlater, they shattered like glass,disintegrating into dust. Vanished,transported to the core of molten fire – theAbyss.

Jesus surveyed the empty throne room,then strode past the black altar, through tothe portal of the Black Sanctum. His eyesnarrowed; it was unguarded.

He pushed open the massive doors.* * *

Lucifer’s monstrous stallion beat the airfrenziedly with its colossal black wings asthey ascended past the unendingpenitentiaries, upward past the penal

colonies landing just lengths away fromthe entrance to the massive iron gates ofhell, when an earth-shattering shudderingshook the ground beneath them. Luciferdismounted, trembling, mesmerized by thehorrifying sight before him.

One of the immense iron Gates of Hellwas collapsing before his eyes, rippedfrom its monstrous foundations by thegiant battering-rams of the Angelic legionsof fire and the White Knights. He watchedas, almost in slow motion, it crashed tothe ground, pulverizing a legion ofShaman-Ogres and fifty legions of thedamned beneath its crushing weight.

Marduk appeared out of the gloom athis side. He bowed deeply, then graspedLucifer’s arm with his long pale fingers.‘My Emperor, I come with tidings from

the Black Murmurers of Jerusalem. Theyreport the veil ... in the temple is torn,’ hetrembled, his yellow eyes gleaming evilconcern. ‘...torn in a strange manner,’ headded nervously.

‘In what manner is the curtain of theHoly of Holies torn?’ Lucifer asked, hisface ashen.

‘The curtain is rent in twain from top tobottom, Your Excellency,’ Mardukreplied. ‘The Black Murmurers report thatit was rent in two at precisely the time asthe Nazarene exhaled His last breath at thePlace of the Skull.’

Speechless with horror, Lucifer finallydrew his gaze away from the collapsinggates to Marduk.

‘It is as the Wort Seers foretold.’ Hepushed his dishevelled hair out of his

eyes.‘The veil is a message. I, the

lightbearer, am banished from His faceforever,’ he muttered, ‘but He would givethe Race of Men direct access to HisPresence.’

He stared, bewildered, as the vastarmies of the First Heaven stormedthrough the entrance, decimating his greatmercenaries of hell. To his right and left,thousands of his own savage Black Hordescreamed in terror, beaten back by theferocious company of white winged lions.Fleeing the tearing claws and bared teeth,the hordes of hell fled, flinging theirweapons down, to the sanctuary of thelowest crypts of the shadows.

His giant gorgons lay wounded andbleeding, dying on the ground around him.

He raised his face to the heavens; theeagle revelators circled overhead – thenew owners of hell’s skies. He walkedunsteadily a few paces forward. ‘Nolonger separated. Direct access ... buthow?’ he murmured.

Michael stood in the midst of theferocious fighting outside the gates, hisgaze fixed on Lucifer, who stood less thana furlong away from him, well within thegates ... unaware of Michael’s gaze.

Michael slowly removed his gauntletsand threw them to the ground, never takinghis eyes off Lucifer.

He unsheathed the Sword of State,feeling for the golden dagger in his boot.Then deftly pushed three long razor-edgedstiletto knives into his military sashbehind his back.

He dodged behind the lions andsprinted forward, just out of Lucifer’sview, through the right of the razed gatesuntil he came up directly behind Lucifer.He grasped his arms from behind with hisgreat strength, holding his dagger atLucifer’s throat.

‘Prepare to meet your end, Lucifer.’Lucifer stared ahead. Caught

completely off guard. His mind racing.His face implacable.

‘My devoted brother...,’ he murmured,not a muscle moving. Then with oneviolent thrust he extricated himself fromMichael’s grasp.

Lucifer kicked his jackboot savagelyinto the back of Michael’s unprotectedcalves shin, the razor-sharp jagged edgeof his spur ripping Michael’s flesh almost

from the back of his knee to ankle. ‘Youwould have your pound of flesh...’ Luciferhissed. Spinning around.

Michael stood in agony, the bloodgushing from his calf. A terrible blacknessclouded his eyes.

‘You know the angelic law. You are noton holy ground here, Michael.’ Lucifersmiled slowly. Merciless. Michaelswayed, his sword clattering to theground. Reeling in pain.

‘One clean thrust, and your head shearsfrom your shoulders,’ Lucifer unsheathedhis monstrous black gleaming sword ofhell, ‘...and you are banished to theAbyss.’ He raised his gleamingbroadsword high above Michael’s neck.‘Farewell, brother – till the judgement!’he cried.

Marshalling all his iron discipline,Michael reached back into his sash andgrasped the three stiletto-like knives hehad hidden there, and with a last herculeaneffort, he drove them straight throughLucifer’s neck with a single, brutal lunge.

Lucifer’s face contorted in agony. Heclutched his neck with both hands, rippingthe three stiletto-like knives away withone great thrust. The blood spurted fromthe three great holes, spurting over hishands and flowing down his torso. Hesank slowly to his knees, his broadswordfallen to the bloody dirt.

Michael kicked the broadsword awayout of his grasp with his good leg.

Lucifer rent his robe, his hands shakinguncontrollably as he wrapped it aroundhis neck to stem the bleeding. His head

fell to the ground. With intense effort, heturned his face to Michael.

‘The Nazarene is butchered,’ he gurgledthrough the gushing blood. ‘He liesbloodied – dismembered in the moltencore,’ Lucifer stared up at Michael, astrange malicious elation in his glazedeyes, ‘...burning in hell.’

Incensed, Michael picked up the Swordof State and held it over Lucifer’s head.

‘And you, brother, go to the Abyss!’ hescreamed. A slow evil smile flickered onLucifer’s lips.

‘No, Michael!’ Jether roared. ‘It is hisfabrication! He would escape the FirstJudgement!’ Mustering every bit of hisstrength, Lucifer lifted a shaking fingertowards hell’s gates. His featurescontorted with a vicious hatred.

Jether and the twenty-three elders of theheavenly council stood in the crystalcorridor, just inside the gates, their whiteceremonial robes blazing with light. Jetherhurried over towards Michael.

‘Leave his head intact,’ he instructedquietly. ‘He must face the FirstJudgement. Eternal Law must befulfilled.’ Xacheriel passed Obadiah asmall vial; the youngling raced over toMichael and poured it onto his lower legwhich was instantly restored. ‘Shacklehim!’ Jether commanded.

Lucifer rose unsteadily to his kneesfrom the ground, clasping the robe to hisneck, struggling towards Jether, thencollapsed, only a few paces from him.‘Jether!’ he spat through the blood, hiseyes glazed as Raphael and Ariel

shackled his wrists and ankles, ‘Hell ismy territory!’ He struggled for breath,‘You transgress Eternal Law.’

Jether circled Lucifer slowly, thenstopped. ‘You have not yet guessed?’ Hisvoice was dangerously soft. He lookeddown, staring directly into Lucifer’s eyes,silent for a long moment.

‘Jesus of Nazareth’s father was notJoseph.’ Jether’s voice was crystal clear.

Lucifer stared up at Jether, momentarilyconfused.

‘His body was created as the first,Adam, not replicated as is the manner ofthe Race of Men,’ Jether said quietly.

‘Joseph...,’ echoed Lucifer,bewildered.

‘There was no conception by the Raceof Men, Lucifer. Christos’ seed was

conceived by Yehovah.’‘Yehovah...’ Lucifer stared blindly

around him in horror, then dragged himselfdesperately through the dirt away fromJether. His robe fell from his neck onto thepitch.’ He cannot ... He breaches His ownEternal Law...’, he gasped.

‘Two thousand years ago,’ said Jetherquietly, ‘on Mount Moriah, a covenantwas sealed between Yehovah and one ofthe Race of Men – one named Abraham,willing to sacrifice his son. Yehovah, inturn, was lawfully released to sacrificeHis own son on your planet. There is nobreach of Eternal Law – Yehovah’sconception of Christos’ egg standslawfully sealed by the High Courts of theFirst Heaven. It would have served youwell to pay heed to the pathetic Hebrew

rituals you so despise. Jesus of Nazareth’sblood is undefiled!’

‘Un ... defiled...’ Lucifer echoed,falling facedown into the lava, his blooddraining from his body and mixing withthe dirt.

‘There will be no hellish trophies, nodancing in the streets of the Damned.’cried Jether. ‘He has shed undefiled bloodon behalf of the Race of Men. He met theclaim – fulfilled Eternal Law.’

Michael knelt directly over Lucifer.‘His soul exchanged for the souls of theRace of Men.’ He reached down andgrasped Lucifer’s tangled hair in his fist,twisting his head to his, looking fiercelyinto his clouding bloody gaze.

‘The highest point of Mount Moriah –its summit is called Golgotha.’ He let go

of Lucifer’s head; it smashed to the dirt.‘...brother!’

‘...Golgotha...,’ Lucifer hissed, chokingon his blood, his shoulders heaving withfear and rage, the awful dreadfulness ofMichael’s words slowly sinking in.

Jether rose and turned to Lamaliel.‘Stem his bleeding with medicinal

gossamer,’ he instructed. ‘He will healslowly – the iniquity he carries impedesthe healing process. But heal he will. Hemust face the First Judgement.’

Michael stood, grim but triumphant. ‘Heis no longer lawful ruler of the Race ofMen. We will now commandeer the Arkof the Race of Men and transport it back tothe First Heaven. From this momentLucifer is their usurper king. Our Kingawaits us in the Black Necropolis!’

* * *Facing Jesus outside the Golden Gates ofthe Black Necropolis stood a hooded,hunched figure dressed in pale garments ofshantung. Beyond the gates lay the greatgolden Ark of the Race of Men, chained tothe Black Sepulchre with massive ironmanacles.

Thousands of flickering black tapersflamed from the Unholy of Unholies,exuding their soporific perfume of blackfrankincense into the chamber.

The figure spoke from under his hood.‘The veil to the Unholy of Unholies is tornfrom top to bottom. It signifies a breach inthe regions of the damned.’

He stepped back.‘You are not welcome here, Nazarene,’

he murmured.

‘Nisroc...,’ Jesus said.The hooded figure nodded.‘I have many pseudonyms, Nazarene.

“The Pale Horseman,” “Death,” and “theReaper” are the ones commonlyacknowledged by the Race of Men.’

He raised his pale, hooded eyes toJesus.

‘Your voice is familiar, Nazarene. Ithas resounded in my selpuchres oncebefore...’

‘Lazarus...,’ Jesus answered softly.The pale horseman nodded.‘I, Death, could not hold him. One who

held power and sway over my kingdomhad spoken.’ He raised his hood. ‘Onegreater than I.’

Jesus looked long into his pale gaze.‘I, Death, am subject to the precepts of

prevailing Eternal Law and to Yehovah’scouncils.’ Nisroc circled Jesus. Hovering.‘What is Your claim, Nazarene?’

‘My claim, Nisroc the Prudent, is forthe Keys of Death.’ Jesus declared. ‘Andthe Ark of Covenant of the Race of Men.’

The pale horseman nodded. At last hespoke.

‘Ah, the title deeds.’ He closed hishooded eyes. ‘Only the undefiled canclaim the Ark. That one does not existamong the Race of Men.’

Jesus stood silent.‘Your hands, Nazarene,’ he said gently.

Jesus put forth His palms.The pale horseman stared in horror at

the large jagged wounds, then reached outhis long, bony finger and thrust it into thebloody wounds in Jesus’ side.

‘Aah...’ He staggered, losing strength.‘Your blood is undefiled...’ He stared

up at Jesus in dread, his hand burningcrimson as if by some peculiar holy fire.’You are Christos!’ He uttered inrecognition, falling, trembling, prostratebefore Him.

‘If one undefiled from the Race of Menis willing to shed His lifeblood on behalfof the Race of Men...’ the pale ridermurmured, ‘and become a substitute forjudgement, the said Race of Men – past,present, and future generations – will bereleased from eternal judgement by thedeath of that one. A soul for a soul. This isbinding Eternal Law...’

He rose.‘For those of the Race of Men ... if they

accept the great sacrifice.’

He took a ring of keys from his waistand unlocked the golden gate. ‘AtGolgotha,’ he proclaimed, ‘all these Youhave secured.’

Michael strode into the throne room, hisgenerals close behind, followed by Jether.They bowed low before Jesus.

‘Your Majesty...’ Michael removed hishelmet and knelt before Jesus.

‘Lucifer is captured,’ he gasped. ‘He isin chains; his generals are incarcerated.The keys of hell are in our possession.’

Michael raised his head, catching sightof the pale horseman. He rose to his feet,fierce, and raised his sword. Jether placedhis hand gently on Michael’s arm.

He shook his head.‘He is subject to Eternal Law; he will

face the great judgement,’ Jesus stated

softly. ‘It is not yet time.’Michael frowned. Jether stared at the

old, wizened figure, his mouth open inwonder. ‘You have conquered death,Nazarene.’

Nisroc removed the ring of hugeglowing golden keys from his waist. Itwas encrusted with diamonds andengraved with the seal of Pedition –Lucifer’s seal.

‘The Keys of Death and the Grave.’Nisroc knelt and handed the keys to Jesus.As Jesus took them, the engravingstransformed into the royal seal of theHouse of Yehovah. The pale rider bowedto Jesus, then lifted his hand inacknowledgment to Jether. Then vanished.

‘He was my mentor,’ Jether whisperedin wonder, almost to himself. ‘Nisroc the

Righteous. He fell with Lucifer...’Jesus walked through the golden gates

of the Black Sepulchre. Facing them,chained to the Black Necropolis, was thegreat golden casket with two carved goldseraphim on either side, the Ark of theRace of Men containing the title deeds tothe planet earth and the solar systems.

Michael drew in his breath in awe.‘This day justice is served in the courts

of heaven,’ Jesus said quietly. ‘The Raceof Men has been freed from the reign oftyranny. Commandeer the Ark, Michael.’He turned to Jether.

‘Jether, faithful steward, prepare thechalice.’

Michael drew the sword of justice fromits sheath and raised it high. ‘We returnthe Ark of the Race of Men to the First

Heaven!’ he cried.At the far door stood Gabriel. He

bowed before Jesus.‘Hell’s armies have surrendered, Your

Excellency.’ Gabriel held out a scroll toJesus. Jesus took it and read, then walkedtowards Gabriel, His hands outstretched.He clasped Gabriel’s hand in His andraised it, His voice echoing throughouthell, shaking the very core of the earth.

‘The Keys of Death and the Grave areYehovah’s – Release the righteous dead!’

* * *Lucifer stared out through the jagged ironbars of his holding cell in the penitentiary,at the unending millions of freed captivesthat marched past in triumphal procession,led by Gabriel and his conquering armies.

The crimson banners of the cross, the newemblem of the First Heaven, flew high,held by the newly released prisoners, therighteous dead.

Lucifer shielded his eyes from thefierce purple light that blazed intenselylike the noonday sun, illuminating everyshadowy recess of the shadowed regionsof the underworld.

He lay sprawled on the floor, stilldreadfully weakened from his wounds, hiswrists and ankles manacled with the heavyiron fetters that had once chained Jesus.The manacles tore into his bruised flesh.

He was naked, his robes and crownstripped from him, leaving only a narrowloincloth. His neck was bandaged in thesilk medicinal cloth of the ancient ones,dipped in myrrh.

Humiliated before his subjects and hisarmies ... and before his prisoners. Hishands shook with rage; his nails bit deeplyinto the flesh of his palms. A hundred ofMichael’s elite sentinels patrolledoutside, guarding the cell.

A dark, shrunken apprentice youngling,freshly released from the swelteringunderground laboratories of Lucifer’scrypts, ran past the cell, shrieking darkobscenities; Lucifer’s crown balancedawry on his head. A second younglingswaggered up and down outside the cell,enveloped in Lucifer’s oversizeceremonial robes, sneering at his shackledmaster.

Lucifer put his head to the bars. Hewatched, frozen, as the sons of Noahmarched past, then Abraham, the prophet

Daniel, and King David. A tall, lean formlingered outside his cell. Looking downon him.

Lucifer’s face contorted into an evilsnarl. He raised himself on his elbows.

‘Be gone, Baptist,’ he hissed frenziedly.The Baptist turned his head to Lucifer,

his fierce eyes blazing with righteousjudgement. ‘The King of Glory hastrampled on death and hell. You areconquered, Satan.’

From the far side of the penitentiary,through the bars, he could see the leering,mocking faces of hell’s inmates. Theirvoices rose in derision and his cell filledwith their strident disparaging shrieks oflaughter as they ridiculed their impotentking. Powerless, Lucifer’s clasped hishands over his ears to block out the

derisive voices. His body trembledviolently in rage.

The cell door opened, and Luciferlooked out from under his matted hair tothe tall imperial form who strode over towhere he lay. ‘You trespass, Nazarene!’he seethed, struggling to raise himself to asitting position.

The Prince of Glory stood over theprince of the damned. Imperial. Majestic.

‘Son of Destruction...’ Jesus seizedLucifer fiercely by his hair and wrenchedhis face upward, His own countenanceblack as thunder. ‘I held out to you in theFirst Heaven the silver sceptre of Mygrace, but you would not touch it.’ Hisvoice was soft but relentless. ‘Now I holdout the iron rod of My wrath.’

Lucifer stared into Jesus’ eyes, his own

face contorted with fear and loathing. Hecursed slowly and deliberately in a dark,guttural evil angelic tongue, then spat inJesus’ face.

Jesus looked at him a long while, silent.Lucifer’s spittle ran down His cheek.Then He flung Lucifer to the floor beforebending and writing in the black pitch dustof the cell floor in a strange angelic script,then strode out of the cell.

Lucifer clawed his way towards thewriting. Letter by letter, he read, thenplaced his hands over his ears. Thenscreamed, a blood-chilling, spine-tinglingscream that reverberated through hell’sdeep dark recesses. ‘You will know myvengeance, Nazarene!’

Then he fell to the floor as one dead.Michael waited outside the cell door.

‘You have My instruction.’ Jesus’expression was fierce; gradually His eyessoftened. ‘We have one final task.’ Jesusclasped Michael’s shoulder. ‘Meet Me atthe Northern Gate of Tartarus.’

Michael looked at Jesus not daring tobelieve. Jesus held his gaze, thendisappeared into the marching crowd.

Michael removed his helmet andentered the cell. Lucifer was huddled inthe far corner, banging his head in rageagainst the bars.

‘He has stormed my kingdom,’ Lucifersnarled. Michael looked down at him withcontempt.

‘The Race of Men no longer fear me,’Lucifer wailed, his arms clutching historso, rocking back and forth like onedemented. ‘You chose your path, brother.

You reap its rewards.’‘My dominion is stormed ... my

kingdom conquered.’ Lucifer whimpered.Michael turned to Raphael, who stood

awaiting his command.‘Deliver him, chained, to Nisroc, the

keeper of death,’ said Michael. ‘He is tobe incarcerated in the black sepulchreuntil he is summoned to the grand councilsof Yehovah in the First Heaven.’ Michaelturned back to Lucifer. ‘To be bound overfor the First Judgement.’

* * *Michael descended down into the lowerregions of the underworld, through thenether regions, past the penetentiaries,down deep beyond the very core of hellitself, until he entered the outer boundaries

of the bottomless chasm located in thevery deepest parts of hell, Tartarus, itslocation adjacent to the Lake of Fire.Unlisted in the tenets of the title deeds.Under Yehovah’s jurisdiction.

None of the Race of Men would everenter these austere and forbidding gates.This was the prison of the damned angelicfallen host who had left their first estateand co-habited with human women aeonspast in the days of Noah – and corruptedthe Race of Men. Held in chains ofdarkness in pits of gloom a thousandleagues beneath the Abyss.

Until the judgement.Ahead, through the terrible unremitting

gloom, Michael discerned the hundrednoble angelic legions of the First Heaventhat guarded Tartarus and the Lake of Fire

day and night under Uriel’s command. Inthe distance stood a tall imperial form,waiting outside the northern-most gate tothe bottomless pits of gloom. The entranceto Tartarus – through the lowest shaft ofthe Abyss.

The black stone was riddled withorange cracks from the blazing furnacethat raged a thousand leagues below them.Uriel stood silently at attention, his legionbowed before their King. Jesus noddedand Uriel walked over to the huge circularlock that had been carved out of thecolossal granite boulder a mile wide.Reaching down, he placed the enormouskey to the shaft of the Abyss into the lock.Ever so slowly, it started to turn. Ahundred angelic warriors grabbed the ironrivets of the boulder, pitting their great

strength against the cavernous door.Slowly it opened.

Billowing black smoke erupted fromthe shaft entrance of the blazing furnace.The warriors were momentarily knockedoff their feet by the blast of heat from theflowing river of fire and lava – the moltencore.

Gradually, the smoke from the twistingshaft thinned out. The walls of the cavernsglowed red hot with deadly coals and theair reverberated with the clamouringscreams of the incarcerated.

‘I curse Yehovah! I curse Christos!’ Athousand whispering, vile obscenitiesgrew in intensity. ‘...curse His holypresence.’

Jesus raised His hand and immediatelythe blaspheming faded except for the

sound of one lone voice from a thousandleagues below, faintly audible above theroar of the blazing furnace.

‘Christos!’ The tortured scream drewnearer, carried towards them on thesmoke. ‘...have mercy on my tormentedsoul.’

Jesus walked over to the entrance untilHe stood directly in the path of thetwisting blazing furnace. Untouched.

‘Christos...!’ The chilling screampierced the air.

He closed His eyes.‘Zadkiel!’ He cried, ‘The Son of Man

commands you – Come forth!’

And so it was that day that I heardLucifer’s agonized scream of defeat.The Son of God, the Son of Man, inall His glorious and terriblemajesty – the eternal Christ, theMessiah – had entered his hellishdomain and conquered his kingdom.It was a terrible, blood-curdlingscream. Lucifer understood hisunparalleled folly: that he had beenthe pawn to crucify the Prince ofGlory. That by the shedding of Hisundefiled blood, Jesus of Nazareth,the Christ, the Father incarnatemade flesh, had opened a doorwayto the Race of Men that they could

be reconciled to the great Creatorof their soul, Yehovah. Lucifer’sdominion had been stormed; hiskingdom had been conquered –forever ... at Golgotha.

And so he screamed.No one will ever know what was

written in the dust that day.No one will ever know what

transpired in that moment betweenthe Prince of Glory and the princeof the damned ... only that after itoccurred, Lucifer harboured aninsatiable vengeance against theNazarene and the sons of the Raceof Men.

Chapter Forty-one

Jotapa

The vast desert sky was still strangelycrimson. Jotapa sat outside the tent, herface heavily veiled in mourning. Only hereyes, red and swollen from weeping, werevisible.

Ayeshe placed a bowl of steaminglamb’s meat before her.

‘You must eat, princess,’ he saidquietly.

Jotapa shook her head vehemently. Sheclutched Ayeshe’s hand in hers so tightlythat her rings bit into his fingers. Wincingin pain, he very gently removed his hand

and covered her tenderly with a softblanket.

‘Please, princess,’ he pleaded, ‘eat.’Jotapa waved him away.‘We have no victory to tell my father of

– just a brutal tale of the Hebrew’storturous, bloody death. And worse, histomb desecrated, his body stolen...’ Shecollapsed in desperate sobbing until herhead finally dropped onto her chest, hereyes closed in exhaustion.

A strange breeze stirred. A gentle handrested on her shoulder.

‘You must not grieve, princess.’Jotapa stirred. A weary anger blazed in

her bloodshot eyes.‘He is dead. He whom I loved is dead,

and you dare tell me not to grieve,Ayeshe.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘You forget

your place,’ she muttered. ‘My father shallhear of your indiscretion.’ And like apetulant child, she pulled the blankets upover her head, bursting again into a loudsobbing.

‘Jotapa.’ She froze under the blanket,staring curiously out with one eye at thestranger bending over her, His facecovered in an Arab head-dress.

‘Daughter of Aretas, king of Arabia.’Jotapa’s eyes widened in recognition as

Jesus moved directly in front of her, Hiseyes radiant.

Tenderly, He removed her veil, pickedup the bowl of lamb’s meat, and held it toher lips. She stared transfixed into Hiseyes. Her own never moved from His.

‘Eat, princess...’He smiled. Then He removed his head-

dress.She stared at the beautiful countenance

before her, spellbound by His beauty.He was the same, the very same. She

frowned. And yet, not the same at all.She studied Him: His deep eyes with

the long black lashes, the strong, noblefeatures, the thick dark hair that fell inwaves down past His strong shoulders.Yet something had changed irreversibly.Then she looked down at His hands,marred by two fresh gaping wounds. Hermind reeling in shock, again she reachedfor Him.

‘No, Jotapa. You cannot touch Me.’ Heshook His head gently and moved back. ‘Imust ascend to My Father and My God –to your Father and your God.’

Tears streamed down Jotapa’s soft,

pale cheeks. ‘You go to see Your Father,’she whispered.

Jesus nodded, tears of yearningstreaming down His face, in this, Hisgreatest hour after thirty-three years apart.Jotapa watched Him with infinitetenderness as He looked up at the nightsky with intense desire. Suddenly, aviolent desert storm blew up fromnowhere and the stinging desert sandslashed fiercely against Jotapa’s cheeks.Clutching her blankets tightly to her,fighting against the violent winds, shestruggled towards the entrance to the tent,where she turned.

Jesus stood in the midst of the ragingstorm, His face and robes lashed by thesand, staring upward at the open heavens,which parted before Him. Radiant with

yearning.Jotapa stared out from the safety of the

tent entrance. She could swear that shehad seen figures in the sky. She turnedinside to call Ayeshe.

‘Ayeshe!’ she cried, then turned back.The storm had stopped as suddenly as it

began. Jesus had vanished.‘He is gone to His Father, Ayeshe,’ she

whispered in wonder.She sighed, new hope illuminating her

eyes. ‘And I go to mine!’

Chapter Forty-two

The Carnelian Chalice

Jether stood by the fountains in the Towerof Winds. The zephyrs blew his long,silvery hair and beard as he stared out atthe vast armies of heaven, returningthrough the twelve entrances of the greatpearl gates from their victory againstLucifer’s armies.

Gabriel strode through the gardenstowards him, his face radiant.

‘Well done, noble Gabriel!’ Jetherembraced him fiercely.

Gabriel bowed deeply before Jether.‘I have escorted our King back to the

First Heaven. He prepares to meetYehovah. He bids you come to Him withthe Carnelian Chalice.’ Tears rolled downGabriel’s cheeks; he wiped them awaywith his hand uncaring.

‘He is in His garden.’* * *

A cherub took Jether’s stallion whileanother ushered Jether into the thick,swirling white mists of the First Heaven’sEden. Jether carried an enormousCarnelian Chalice in his hands. On its lidwas engraved a simple golden cross.

He walked past the golden trees andthrough the narrow pearl arbour coveredwith pomegranate vines laden with lushsilver fruits, breathing in the headyperfume of the magnificent hanging

blossoms in the Gardens of Fragrance thatexuded the aromas of frankincense and ofspikenard. He trod over beds of gladioliand frangipani trees, across lawns ofgolden bulrushes and buttercups with finecrystal stamens in their centre towards theintense shafts of blinding crimson lightradiating from far beyond. Across thevale, he came to an inconspicuous grottoat the very edge of the cliffs of Eden,surrounded by eight ancient olive trees.

He pushed open the simple woodengate.

Standing in the centre of His garden,His face only faintly visible through therising mists, stood Jesus. He was clothedin shining white garments; His gleaminghair fell past His shoulders.

Slowly He turned, and Jether fell to his

knees, his arm shielding his face from theglorious white light emanating from thefigure’s countenance. ‘Christos,’ Jetheruttered in ecstasy.

Gradually, the white mists faded. Jetherstared down at Jesus’ feet, the jaggedwounds still fresh. ‘Christos...’ hewhispered.

‘My task is accomplished.’ Jesus’voice was soft. ‘I have paid the penaltyfor the Race of Men.’

He looked around at the great olivetrees.

‘It was here that Lucifer kissed Me somany aeons past ... before his treason,’ Hesaid softly. ‘It was fitting for what was tocome.’

Jether nodded. ‘It was here that itbegan, when he was told of the advent of

the Race of Men.’Jesus gazed out as the shimmering rays

settled to reveal, a hundred feet ahead,across a vast chasm, the magnificentRubied Door, ablaze with light, embeddedinto the jacinth walls of the tower – theentrance to Yehovah’s throne room. Hegazed out at the shimmering rainbow thatrose over the crystal palace.

At length, Jesus spoke. ‘And it is herethat it is completed.’

Jether knelt before Jesus, the CarnelianChalice in his outstretched hand. ‘Everydrop of blood that was spilt at Golgotha,’Jether whispered in reverence. ‘The bloodsacrifice for the souls of the Race of Men.Undefiled.’

Jesus took the chalice from him. ‘Rise,faithful servant of Yehovah.’

Jether rose to his feet, following Jesus’gaze out towards the great Rubied Door.Slowly the colossal door opened, andwith it the lightning and thunder grew inintensity, and a tempestuous wind blew.

‘You will be summoned, to the GreatWhite Throne, in Eden, on the plains ofthe Great White Poplars.’ Jesus raised thechalice in ecstasy, His eyes gleaming inadoration.

‘My Father awaits Me.’ He vanishedinto the white, rushing mists. Then Hereappeared across the chasm and walkedinside the Rubied Door.

Chapter Forty-three

Mourning

Aretas sat at his desk, his head in hishands. ‘So the reports are true,’ hemumbled. ‘He is dead.’

Jotapa knelt before him, her face pale.‘Yes, Papa,’ she said softly. ‘It is true Hedied, but...’

Aretas ran his hands through his stillthick, silvering hair. Wearily he looked upat Jotapa. Though she was dressed in herblack mourning veils, her eyes shone withan ethereal glow.

Aretas’ leathery face was haggard; hemust have been without sleep for days,

Jotapa thought, and his eyes werestrangely swollen. She wondered if he hadbeen weeping.

‘I had...’ He struggled to speak, thenswallowed hard. ‘I had hoped...’ His handfell heavily on the table before him. ‘Nomatter ... It was a fool’s dream.’ Aretasraised his head. Suddenly, he seemed old... much older than his sixty-seven years.Jotapa stared at him. Silent, her eyes widewith grief.

‘You did believe...,’ she murmured. Shelooked at her father in wonder.

‘I see now that I was foolish,’ Aretasmurmured. ‘It was emotional ... anillusion.’ He looked in her eyes, graspingfor hope. ‘You saw Him ... die.’

Jotapa nodded. ‘Yes, Papa, He died.’‘But He lives.’

She reached out to Aretas, but he shookher off him, a terrible fury clouding hisfeatures.

‘Desperate tales!’Jotapa drew her face close to his.‘I saw Him, Father.’Aretas’ countenance grew dark like

thunder. Jotapa persisted.‘Your friend Abgar, prince of Armenia,

has written to Lord Tiberius saying thatthe Hebrew is risen, that He has appearedto many,’ she said, her face flushed withexcitement.

‘Many graves and tombs were opened,Papa – over twelve thousand; it is the talkof all Jerusalem. Simeon, the high priest ...his sons, blood brothers Karinus andLeucius ... their graves were opened.Annas and Caiaphas joined with Gamaliel

and Nicodemus and found them in the cityof Arimathea – alive! Alive, Papa!Resurrected. They swore by the God ofIsrael that they had arisen from the dead.They wrote of what they had seen – thatthey were in deep, shadowy darkness andsuddenly Hades was alight with royalpurple light shining on them. John theBaptist was there, and the prophet Isaiah!The Hebrew resurrected them, Papa!’

Aretas stood to his feet, hunched and inthat moment very, very old.

‘I cannot take it.’ He stared at her infury. ‘These lies sicken me. Leave mealone!’

Jotapa ran, clutching his robes, but hepulled himself away from her.

‘Leave me, Jotapa!’ he cried. ‘Get out!’He pushed her away from him. She

tripped over the hem of her garments andfell to the floor. Aretas stormed into hisbedchamber, leaving his daughter sobbingon the marble floor.

The doors ricocheted shut behind him.

Chapter Forty-four

Echoes of Eternity

The seven pale lilac western moonsglimmered softly on the horizon of theFirst Heaven. Indigo lightning struck theseventh spire, far above the rock face ofthe Holy Mountain. Seven hiddenchambers in the mountain ascended intothe inner sanctum of the labyrinths.

The secret entrance to the throne room,accessible only by the ancient ones fromfrom the seventh spire, was barely visible,wreathed in the glistening mists that roseand fell in the dawn zephyrs.

Michael stood a thousand feet below, in

the gardens that lay behind the rubiedentrance to the throne room, outside thewestern labyrinths of the seven spires.Seven scorching columns of eternal whitefire blazed fiercely and unrelentingly atthe seventh entrance to Yehovah’s palace,underneath the immense flaming rainbow.

‘Jether was summoned to the seventhchamber before the western moons arcedin the heavens,’ Michael said.

Gabriel tethered his white steed to oneof the great gnarled willows thatflourished on the lawns of the westernlabyrinths. ‘Yehovah delivers Hispronouncement concerning the fate ofLucifer,’ he said.

Michael clutched his gauntlets in hishand. ‘His Judgement hastens.’

‘The First Judgement,’ replied Gabriel.

‘The judgements of the damned...’‘And the one who instigated their

damnation at the start,’ Jether said softly.The princes turned.Jether stood at the base of the

labyrinths, holding a flaming eternal torch,his head and crown covered by his whitemantle.

‘It is time, Michael, chief prince of theroyal house of Yehovah – Hecommissions you to leave for Perditionimmediately. You will return with Luciferbefore the grand councils of Yehovah, forthe First Judgement. At the Great WhiteThrone, in Eden, on the plains of the GreatWhite Poplars.’ He placed his hand onMichael’s shoulder.

‘Bring Lucifer to his old chambers inthe West Wing. Ephaniah will be waiting

with his ceremonial regalia.’Jether pushed the mantle back from his

head wearily.‘He damned the Race of Men in earth’s

Eden. Heaven’s Eden will be where he isjudged.’

* * *Lucifer stood, his hands and feet shackled,outside the huge golden doors of theWestern Wing of the Palace ofArchangels. Michael pushed open thedoors, then pushed Lucifer through into thecentre of the enormous chambers. Michaelnodded to Sandaldor, one of his HighCommand, who immediately unshackledLucifer’s hands and ankles, then bowedand took his place with twelve ofMichael’s command outside the doors.

Lucifer stood in the centre of the enormouschamber, dressed only in a stark greytunic, studying his old chambers.Everything was untouched, exactly as ithad been the night before he wasbanished. The magnificent frescoes, hiscollection of pipes and tabrets – his violand bow still lay on his writing table. HisSword of State was placed back in itsmagnificent jewelled sheath. Theenormous rubied palace windows wereflung open, and the sounds of the angelicorations from the Mount of Assemblyechoed throughout the chamber.

He stared up at the soaring vaultedceilings with their spectacular panoramasthat covered the ornate carved ceilings ofthe chambers, then walked to the tallcasement doors that led onto the

shimmering white beaches in front of thePalace of Archangels. A company ofwhite-winged stallions thundered pastacross the beach and soared into thefirmament past the twelve pale bluemoons that were now rising from theEastern horizon. Michael watched, silent,as Lucifer stared after them inexhilaration. Lucifer turned, catchingMichael’s gaze. He walked over to thewriting table, then stood beneath thehundred blazing frankincense tapers andinhaled deeply.

He stared at his ceremonial regalia laidout before him. The ceremonial silver halfgreaves, intricately carved with theemblems of Perdition. His ceremonialjacket of embroidered white silks, hisgauntlets of soft white leather. The silver

and gold medals. The great diamondcrown.

‘It is all as it was...’ Lucifer murmured,a strange smile flickering on his lips.

He picked up his viol, thrumming theviol’s strings as he walked back out ontothe balcony. He drew the bow across theviol’s bridge with nimble fingers, his eyesclosed in rapture.

A dazzling, pulsating light fell acrossLucifer, blinding him and completelycovering the pearl balcony. He let out anagonized scream, the viol smashing to themarble floor. He stumbled into thechamber, then fell to his knees,desperately making futile attempts toshield his eyes from the blazing light.

Michael slammed the casement doorsclosed and drew the immense velvet

drapes over the latticed windows until thechambers were engulfed in semi-darkness.He stared down at Lucifer, who laytrembling in horror on the floor.

‘Nothing is as it was, Lucifer.’Michael rang a golden bell that hung

from the velvet curtains.An old, wizened angelic courtier

entered through the door and bowed.‘Ephaniah,’ Michael said. ‘Dress mybrother as you used to in aeons past in hisceremonial regalia of the House ofYehovah. Then deliver him to Sandaldor.He is to be judged. To stand before ourKing.’

Michael strode through the huge goldendoors which slammed behind him.

Chapter Forty-five

The First Judgement

The magnificent translucent Pearl Gates ofEden in the First Heaven slowly opened,revealing the vast, lush white plains thatwere filled with thousands upon thousandsof great white poplars. Each exuded asoft, milky radiance. Their trunks andbranches were a transparent white, thediamond markings on the trunks spawnedreal diamonds. Their healing leaves werea pale green, white on the underside, andtheir branches hung heavy with glisteningwhite blossoms with diamond stamens thatwere filled with spikenard. The exquisite

fragrance filled the plains. A fittingmemorial to the One who had beenanointed in lavish devotion by one of theRace of Men.

The Great White Plains radiated withthe soft white light that hung in the blazingwhite mists rising from the immense lushlawns of white lilies and foxgloves thatgrew below the poplars.

In the very centre of the plains stood athousand colossal ivory columns, holdingup a great canopy of the finest spungossamer. Beneath this diaphanous roof,millions of the angelic host were seatedon carved silver thrones divided by agreat nave of glistening sapphire panes,leading to the great White Sacrosanctaltar. On the altar stood the CarnelianChalice.

In the centre of the nave the waters oflife, bright as crystal, cascaded from thethrone room, watering Eden and the GreatWhite Plains. Hundreds of stately whiteswans drifted down the flowing streamtowards the Crystal Sea.

A hundred angelic heralds blew theirshofars.

‘We herald the holy council of theancient ones, stewards of Yehovah’ssacred mysteries,’ they proclaimed.

The blinding white mists cleared,revealing Jether and the twenty-threeancient kings of heaven. They walkedsolemnly, majestically, through the soaringPearl Gates towards the twenty-fourgolden thrones that stood behind the greatcarved white altar. Jether seated himselfon the centre throne, the twenty-three

remaining ancient kings following hislead.

Again the herald blew the shofar.‘Gabriel the Revelator, prince of

archangels,’ he proclaimed, ‘long may youreign with wisdom and justice.’

The angelic host’s refrain reverberatedthrough the chamber as Gabriel followedthe kings through the gates, carrying thesword of justice

‘Michael the Valiant, chief prince ofarchangels, long may you reign withjustice and valour,’ the angelic hostproclaimed.

‘Lucifer the Light-Bearer, fallen princeof archangels, son of destruction.’

The entire assembly fell silent. As onethey turned towards the pearl gates.

Lucifer stood next to Michael in his full

white ceremonial dress of the FirstHeaven. His long raven hair was plaitedwith white pearls and diamonds. Hisceremonial jacket glistened withembroidered white silks, and his gauntletswere of soft white leather. He wore hissilver and gold medals on his chest. Heheld the royal golden sceptre of Perdition.On his head rested a great diamondcrown. His wrists were manacled withheavy silver shackles, as were his ankles.Michael held his arm in a vice-like grip.

Lucifer turned his head to him.‘This is scandalous, brother.’ He

looked at Michael with thinly veiledloathing. ‘You treat me as an insurgent.’

‘The insurgent we know you to be.’Michael pushed Lucifer forward roughly.Lucifer turned his head mockingly to the

angelic host. Every head stayed bowed;every mouth kept silent. There was nosound on the vast plain. Doggedly, step bystep, Lucifer walked up the great nave ofgleaming sapphire panes that led to theGreat White Throne. Michael’s knights inarms fell into step behind them, solemnlybearing the banners of the royal house ofYehovah. Michael and Lucifer stoppednext to Gabriel, a distance away from theancient elders and the place of the throne.Michael and Gabriel bowed low and kneltin the burning mist that poured over thewhite plains. Lucifer’s attention wasstrangely drawn to a tall noble figureexuding a glorious light, standing to hisright. Slowly the figure turned his head toLucifer, holding his gaze fiercely for along moment. ‘Zadkiel...’ Lucifer gasped.

He turned to Michael, bewildered, thenbowed his head, his hands trembling withfear and rage.

‘Behold, O God our defender, and lookupon the face of thy chief princes, for oneday in thy courts is better than a thousandelsewhere.’

Jether watched Lucifer intently. Luciferstood imperious, refusing to kneel. Hestayed silent for a long moment, his facedown, then closed his eyes. Ashen.

‘His memories return to the days beforehe fell, to his days of glory,’ Jethermurmured to Lamaliel in wonder.

‘When he was Light-Bearer – all-glorious,’ Maheel murmured.

A great thundering and lightningsounded, and the blazing white light of theplains transformed to dazzling sapphire,

then to amethyst. ‘Yehovah descends,’ theherald announced.

Lucifer stared ahead, expressionless,though Jether noted that his handstrembled visibly, uncontrollably as theGreat White Throne descended.

Before Yehovah’s feet, the sevenblazing torches burned as seven flamingcolumns of white fire, and in the midst ofeach torch were the flaming coals of theSpirit of Yehovah. A rainbow descendedalso, which stretched across the whiteplains, surrounding Yehovah’s presence.

Ear-splitting peals of thunder shook theplains of Eden.

Then all was still.Lucifer stared ahead to the Great White

Throne, pale. He bowed his head from theradiance.

There, seated on the Great WhiteThrone of incandescent light, was the Onefrom whose presence, and from the sightof whose face, earth and sky fled away –the great King of the universe, Yehovah.

But now, a second throne, to Yehovah’sright, became faintly distinguishablethrough the glowing mists. Then, throughthe Pearl Gates, twelve holy Watchers inceremonial dress walked in procession upthe nave, holding the golden casket carvedwith golden cherubim on their shoulders.The Ark of the Race of Men. They placedit down directly on the altar before thethrone.

Gabriel nodded. Raphael walkedforward with a large golden key resting ona velvet cushion. Gabriel picked it up andreverently opened the casket. The twelve

golden codices filled the ark, their coversembedded with jacinth, diamonds,sapphires, chrysolite, and multitudes ofother precious stones. ‘The earth and itssolar system, the Second Heaven abovethe earth, is this day returned to Yehovah,throughout eternity of eternities,’ hedeclared.

Jether stood. ‘According to EternalLaw, the Ark of the Race of Men is nolonger property of Lucifer, Son of theMorning. It is once again restored toYehovah’s keeping. The great and terriblesacrifice at Golgotha has delivered theRace of Men from the rule of the son ofdestruction...’ He paused. ‘...if they acceptthe great sacrifice.’

He bowed his head in supplication, thenturned to a man, great of stature, his body

glowing with a radiance unnatural to theRace of Men.

‘Yehovah calls Adam, the firstborncreation of Yehovah.’ The tall man,perfect in his symmetry, walked out fromthe angelic host and flung himselfprostrate before the thrones.

Then a glorious imperial figure walkedmajestically through the white fires, fromthe throne at Yehovah’s right hand. Themists started to fade as the breathtakingform became visible. It was Jesus.

‘I accept the great sacrifice ofGolgotha,’ Adam uttered in awe.

‘Rise, Adam, first-created son of man,’Jesus declared.

Adam rose from the floor. Gabrielremoved the lid from the CarnelianChalice, and Jesus dipped His forefinger

in the sacred blood.‘The Race of Men, lost by the tree of

transgression,’ Jesus said softly, anointingAdam with the sign of the cross in blood,‘is regained through the tree of the crossof sacrifice.’

Jesus smiled, clasping Adam tenderlyto His breast. Tears flowed down Adam’scheeks.

‘He is reinstated,’ murmured Xacheriel,‘through the blood.’

Jesus raised His hands to Yehovah.‘The First Judgement commences,’ Heproclaimed.

Zadkiel rose, followed by twenty-fourWhite Holy Watchers, who carried sixmonstrous silver and garnet casketsengraved with the seal of Perdition. Theyplaced them before the altar, then raised

the lids, revealing six hundred and sixty-six enormous codices sealed with the sealof the House of Perdition.

Lucifer’s expression darkened.‘The Books of Iniquities of the Race of

Men seized from the archives ofPerdition,’ Zadkiel declared. Jesusnodded and immediately a hundredyoungling scribes swiftly lifted thecodices from the caskets until all sixhundred and sixty-six codices lay upon themammoth white altar.

Jether walked over to Jesus.‘Every generation of the Race of Man is

registered, Your Majesty. Lucifer and hisarchivists have meticulously recordedevery darkened act, every act of iniquityof the Race of Men against Yehovah.

‘Open the Books of Iniquities,’ Jesus

commanded. The youngling scribesswiftly opened the books.

‘I, the slain lamb execute the FirstJudgement.’

Lucifer stood silent as Jesus picked upthe Carnelian Chalice and held it over theopen books, watching him.

‘Former prince of the world of men,you are already condemned, and sentenceis already passed upon you.’

Lucifer’s hands shook visibly, theappalling comprehension of Jesus’ actionsdawning.

‘Every drop of blood shed at Golgotha– I shed for the Race of Men – for theirreconciliation with Yehovah – for theirdeliverance from hell and the Lake ofFire.’

Jesus held the chalice high–

‘Noooooo!’ Lucifer screamed, his eyeswild with horror. ‘Every man’s soul ismine – to burn with me in the Lake ofFire!’ Michael grasped his arms in an irongrip, his fingers digging fiercely into hisflesh. Lucifer stared, riveted at theCarnelian Chalice. Droplets of sweat ranfrom his temple onto his cheeks.

Jesus poured the blood from theChalice over the Books of Iniquities. Aseach drop of blood fell down, the pagesblazed ferociously with intense blackflames that contorted to a blazing whiteinferno.

Jether dropped to his knees. ‘The FirstJudgement.’

‘The Lamb that was slain,’ Gabrielmouthed in wonder.

Michael grasped Lucifer’s hair, then

brought his mouth up to Lucifer’s ear.‘Slain by your own hand.’ His whisper

reverberated in Lucifer’s head. Luciferstared down in dread at the darkeningcrimson stain on his right palm. Heclutched his hand in agony from thesearing pain.

The angelic host all across the plainsfell prostrate.

Gabriel fell to his knees. ‘Jesus ofNazareth has died as the Lamb – He arisesthe great conqueror!’

‘All power, honour, dominion abovethe earth, under the earth is Yours,’

‘All hail – King of kings – Lord oflords – Your reign is forever!’ themultitude of angelic hosts thundered.

‘Yehovah would issue His decree.’A great thundering issued from the

throne, through the mist – the roar of athousand waters. Then the mists rose andthe gracious, noble voice resoundedthrough the plains.

‘We receive the blood sacrifice ofGolgotha for the Race of Men. All whoreject My Son remain under the kingshipof Satan and his damned – never to enterthese gates. All those of the Race of Menwho receive the great and terrible bloodsacrifice of My Son shed at Golgotha, Inow set free from the tyranny of Satan. Ideclare Myself their Father and their God.I shall set My royal seal upon their heads.’

The mists rose and, through the goldenhues, the dim outline of a form of immensestature could be seen through the goldenundulating mists. Torrential waves ofcompassion and unending mercies flowed

from His being like a vigorous livingdeluge over the plains. And then, for amoment, a moment so fleeting, Yehovah’sface became visible. The whole of heavenfell prostrate, as though dead, in the verymajesty and awe of Him. Lucifer stayedstanding for a moment, then collapsed likestone onto the sapphire floor.

Only Jesus stood. Tears falling downHis cheeks, staring ... staring into thebeautiful noble face. For His beauty wasindescribable, and to those few who hadever looked upon His face – they couldnot but hear His name and weep. His hairand head were white like snow from thevery radiance of His glory, Yehovah’seyes were burning luminous black orbsthat reflected His infinite tendercompassions, His unending mercies, the

gentleness and the beauty of truth. Ofjustice. Of holiness. Of indissoluble love.

‘This is My vow.’ Yehovah’s wordsissued from His being like ripples ofgolden radiance. ‘My solemn promisefrom age to age – from the eternity ofeternities.’

And then He smiled. A brilliant tendersmile. The understanding of the ages inHis smile.

‘For the Race of Men is exceedinglybeloved by Me.’

Yehovah disappeared back into themists.

Heaven was silent.Finally, Jether stepped forward and

motioned the angelic host to rise.‘Let it be recorded by the scribes of the

First Heaven: the decrees of Yehovah as

Eternal Law. The First Judgement readsthus: All members of the Race of Men,past, present, and future generations, whoreceive the seal of the blood sacrifice ofGolgotha, are released from the rule ofSatan, son of destruction. All are releasedfrom the defilement of the fall of man. Allwho are sealed have access to Yehovah’scourts beyond the Rubied Door and aresaved from the flames of the Lake of Fire.’

The angelic host erupted in a jubilantroar.

Jether looked to where Lucifer stood,his head cast down, shielding his eyesfrom the brilliance of Yehovah.

‘Yehovah calls to account Lucifer, sonof destruction – Satan, tempter, Adversaryof the Race of Men.’

Lucifer lifted his hate-filled eyes

towards Jether. Michael clasped hisshoulders with both arms. Lucifershrugged him aside.

‘I can walk,’ he spat.Slowly, determinedly, he walked. His

eyes were downcast as he placed one footbefore the other on the polished sapphirepath. Michael walked behind him. Luciferwalked, trembling in terror and rage untilhe stood directly before the throne.Raphael unshackled his hands.

‘Christos...,’ Lucifer whispered indread.

The King spoke in a voice at once softand filled with the authority of theuniverse. ‘Son of destruction.’ Lucifer’shead was bowed, his arm shielding hisface from the light that blazed from Jesus,Great King of Heaven.

Lucifer lifted his head, inch by inchuntil he was staring directly at Jesus.

‘Ceased is Lucifer, the golden one.Yehovah has broken the staff of thewicked, the sceptre of rulers.’ Jesusreached out His hands and removedLucifer’s sceptre. ‘Thy pomp is broughtdown to Sheol.’ He looked straight intoLucifer’s eyes. Severe. Forbidding. Henodded to Gabriel. ‘Complete theJudgement, then deliver him back to thefallen. He walked back to His throne anddisappeared into the thick swirling mistswith Yehovah.

Raphael and Ariel stripped Lucifer ofhis white ceremonial garments until hestood before the altar clothed in only awhite loincloth.

‘You have lost, brother,’ Gabriel said.

‘You no longer have authority over theRace of Men.’

Lucifer grasped Gabriel’s tunic andpulled him towards him. ‘Unless men giveit to me...’ Lucifer hissed. He drewGabriel closer until their faces touched.

‘My brother Gabriel,’ he whispered,‘your fallen brother, Lucifer, is yet also aprophet.’ Lucifer raised one hand towhere the righteous dead sat. The entireassembly fell silent. Michael turned fromhis position at the Gate exchanging aglance with Jether. Jether nodded.

‘I foretold you, compatriots, before myunmerited banishment, that we would seeour angelic sanctuary desecrated by thesereplicated mewling, inferior beasts.’Gabriel felt Lucifer’s hot putrid breath onhis cheeks. ‘Here they are in your midst! It

is a travesty!’ Lucifer flung Gabriel away,then raised his arms to the angelic host.‘Mark me well, my revered angeliccompatriots...’ His eyes flamed with anunholy fire as his voice rose in decibels.

‘If truly we serve Yehovah, we willprotect Him against His splendid andoverwhelming love for them.’

‘Bind his mouth!’ commanded Michaelstriding towards Lucifer, ‘that his odiouswords fall to the ground, not on our ears.’Michael seized him by the neck and boundhis mouth. Uriel marched towards him, hisdagger sharpened and ready. Luciferstruggled violently. Michael seized hishead in a vicelock. With six deft swipesof Uriel’s blade, Lucifer’s long ravenlocks fell to the floor. He was shorn.‘How art thou cut down to the ground...,’

whispered Jether.Lucifer stared into Michael’s eyes with

a shocking violent hatred.‘...and the noise of thy viols; the maggot

is spread under thee,’ Michael saidthrough gritted teeth. ‘And worms coverthee. Deliver him back to the kingdom ofthe fallen!’

Raphael and his generals draggedLucifer up the nave towards the gates,struggling violently. With his one freedhand, he ripped the binding from acrosshis mouth.

‘You shall pay for this, Michael!’ hecried. ‘Nazarene!’ he screamed, ‘Youshall pay for this for eternity-y-y-y-y...’

The great pearl gates of the white plainsclosed behind Lucifer forever.

‘It is over,’ murmured Michael wearily.

Shaken. Suddenly emotional, Lucifer’s cryringing in his ears.

‘It is over,’ Gabriel echoed in relief.‘He is the master of resurrections.’

Jether turned from the gate to the brothers,his expression guarded. ‘Only whenLucifer lies burning in the Lake of Fire onthe eastern shore, then and only then shallit be truly over.’

* * *

2021Manhattan, New York

Lilian surveyed the vast open-plan livingroom of Jason’s Manhattan penthouse. Itwas stark, almost utilitarian – its oneredeeming feature, the plush white ‘Nina

Campbell’ sofa that Julia had fallen inlove with when they had first moved toNew York City. Strange, Lilian reflected,Jason had rigorously erased everymemory of Julia ... except this one glaringomission.

Lilian smiled. It had been she whocoerced Lawrence into introducing hisyoung niece, pretty fledgling Londonjournalist Julia Cartier, to her stubbornyoung son freshly out of Harvard andattending film school in New York. Andhow she had loved Julia instantly, thefiery, talented young writer. Julia was sogood for Jason – that she was sure of.

They had married young. On Julia’snineteenth birthday. Jason was justtwenty-two. And on his twenty-thirdbirthday, his portion of the De Vere trust

fund became his to do with as he wished –200 million pounds at his disposal, to bereleased in tranches of ten million by theDe Vere Foundation board of trusteesevery five years until he turned forty,when the remainder would be his.

And the world had become Jason andJulia’s proverbial oyster.

Jason and Julia’s divorce had shakenLilian badly. Jason had never fullyrecovered from Lily’s accident. Lilianknew that he drank too much. Never –never enough to jeopardize his work, butquite enough to affect his marriage.

He had used his vast personal fortune toleverage the New York merchant banks inhis quest for new media companies. Hispersonal media empire, Vox Media, wasfunded by one of the more than nine

thousand active hedge funds of the trilliondollar (and growing) industry. Most of thefunds were based in New York, and thehedge fund board was made up almostentirely of his father, James De Vere’sclosest friends. Charles Cussler, Jason’sgodfather had been an invaluable ally.

Media Acquisition had become Jason’ssole obsession. Jason was stubborn ... asstubborn as his father James De Vere hadever been. Oh, yes – how alike they were.Both prickly, selfish, driven, irascible,and, most of all, stubborn, but both Jasonand James were true, Lilian hadconcluded. There was no guile in Jason.

Lilian walked over to the drinkscabinet, and picked up the one of the twosolitary photographs in the apartment.Jason and Adrian at Adrian’s recent

presidential inauguration.She smiled. Jason was starting to look

like that actor from the previous decade –what was his name...? Harrison Ford.Jason would loathe that comparison.

And Adrian. Handsome, gifted,generous Adrian. Lilian replaced thephotograph.

He had been such a sunny toddler.Always smiling. A people magnet sincethe age of two. He never sulked. Neverpushed for his own, never pouted orfought to get his way. What an easy childhe had been! And he was funny. Liliansmiled to herself. Side-wrenchingly funny.A joy.

Adrian had entered his teens andsuffered through some of its the awkwardphases, but otherwise he had sailed

through school at Gordonstoun, achievingfirst class grades at Oxford University,completing a faculty exchange year atGeorgetown University in D.C.specializing in Arab studies, beforeentering the world of British politics. Attwenty-nine, Adrian De Vere had becomeone of the youngest British PrimeMinisters in the history of the BritishIsles. He had served two full terms andresigned last spring to concentrate on hisbid for the European presidency. Jameswould have been so proud. Lilian sighed.

But James De Vere never lived to seeAdrian invested. He had collapsed from afatal heart attack in his study at their homein the Oxfordshire countryside. He wasdead even before the ambulance arrived.And then less than eighteen months later,

Melissa ... and the baby. Lilian shivered.Adrian and Jason had always been

close. Very close and since James DeVere’s death, they had grown even closer.But even Adrian couldn’t persuade Jasonto forgive Nick.

Nick. Lilian’s expression softened. Herbeloved youngest son. Her baby. Shebelieved in her heart that he was thegreatest victim of the accident. He hadnever recovered from the crippling guiltand Jason was determined that he neverwould if he had anything to do with it.

Nick had been a glorious child. A quiet,handsome boy with a gentle spirit, anhonours student, a first-rate archaeologystudent at Cambridge – but then came theaccident. She had watched as her blue-eyed boy had drunk the nights away to

forget, dissipating his substantial trustfund on cocaine, heroin and God knowswhat else. He was beautiful enough tobecome prime celebrity fodder for theruthless British paparazzi, and he gavethem plenty of material. Then he gotAIDS.

Lilian moved to the penthouse balconyand stared out at the view across thewater, deep in thought.

Eighteen months before James De Veredied, he had frozen Nick’s trust fund inhorror at discovering Nick had broken hisengagement to his glamourous Britishmodel fiancée – Devon – for a fling with aGerman archeologist – Klaus von Hausen.James was old school. And frozen itwould remain, for when James died,Jason, as eldest son, joined the

foundation’s board of directors. And herefused to sign.

‘Mother,’ Lilian turned. Jason stood atthe drinks cabinet, freshly showered. Hepoured her the tomato juice she loved,then himself a whisky. He came up besideher and passed her the glass. They stoodin silence for several minutes. At ease.Finally Jason spoke.

‘I saw Julia.’Lilian nodded. She waited.‘At Adrian’s event in Aqaba.’ Jason

slugged down the whisky.Lilian gently removed the whisky glass

from her eldest son’s grasp and took hishand. ‘I miss Lily.’ He shrugged.

She looked deeply into his eyes, thenover to the only other photograph in theapartment. A holiday photo. Jason, Julia

and Lily on the beach together in France –laughing, relaxed – a family. Jasonfollowed her gaze.

No words passed between them, butLilian read her son completely.

Chapter Forty-six

The Dread Councils ofHell

Lucifer limped through the great bronzeportico of the eastern wing of hischambers, out into his ornamental tropicalgardens. His hair had grown back in adark stubble on his scalp. His sapphireeyes were clouded with a thin, opaquefilm. His wrists and ankles were stillbruised and scabbed from the shackles ofpast events.

‘Cerberus,’ he crooned, feeding his pethellhound a sweetmeat from his palm.

He moved his palm across the horizon,resting his weight on his silver cane, thenleisurely massaged his bruised wrists,surveying his newly erected fortress,which lay light years beyond hell and theshadowed regions, beyond the southernpolar caps of Mars, in the Second Heavenunder the escarpment of the brooding ice-capped crags of Vesper.

It was a monstrous structure,constructed entirely of molten silver andalabaster. He stared out at the greatportcullis and battlements, then smiled.The ice citadel of Gehenna was almostcomplete – his winter palace. Not a traceof hell’s fires would ever cross histhreshold again to humiliate him. He mustembrace eternal winter until his allottedtime was up according to Eternal Law,

until the final judgement. The Lake ofFire. He shuddered.

Marduk stepped over the threshold,bowing low before him.

‘Sandor ... Diablon,’ Lucifer spokewithout turning. ‘All of my warriors whosurrendered to the Nazarene andMichael’s armies – they are delivered tothe Abyss?’

Marduk smirked.‘All the fallen that were conquered are

delivered to the Abyss, sire. To the moltencore. As are the insurgents among theranks of the wicked dead.’

‘My edict has gone out?’ He turned.‘Your edict has gone throughout the

penitentiaries of hell, great Majesty. Therewill be no whisper of the Nazarene’s visitto the courts of the damned. It is

punishable by the Abyss.’‘Well and good, Marduk. The missives

are sent?’‘The stygian missives are circulated to

all the dread fallen, sire. The satanicprinces of Babylon and Grecia – theprincipalities of Belphegor. To the fallenarchangels of Astaroth ... The Thrones ofFolcador, the Warlocks of Ishtar.

All the great principalities of evil andterror above the earth and under the earthgather for the dread assembly ofvengeance, my lord.’

‘Tell Charsoc my winter palace must beprepared for their coming.’ Lucifer lookeddown at the lapis floors beneath his feet.

‘As soon as it is prepared, demolishthis palace, that there be not one stone leftstanding – that there be no trace of the

Nazarene’s presence remaining in mykingdom.

‘It shall be done, my lord.’Lucifer put his hand to his head, running

his fingers over the new growth of hair.They gleamed black with a malevelantevil. Vengeance.

‘Every trace, Marduk. When the councilis over, the Nazarene will have ceased toexist!’

* * *Jether and Michael looked up from thewaterfalls of nectar, far beyond thehorizon, to a lone figure who stood in thegardens of the labyrinths outside theseventh spire, gazing out towards Earth.‘He is returned again from Earth,’ saidMichael.

Jether nodded.‘It draws Him continually.’Jesus stood silent, watching the earth as

it spun slowly on its axis. The lightningsand thunderings from the spires at the topof the mountain struck continually allaround Him. His face betrayed a deepyearning.

‘He is torn,’ Jether murmured. ‘By twoworlds – ours in the First Heaven, and theworld of the Race of Men.’

‘We cannot feel what He feels,’Michael whispered. ‘We have not beenone of them.’

Gabriel knelt in supplication under thegreat willows. He raised his head.

‘I have watched each dusk as Heleaves,’ he murmured. ‘He returns eachdawn.’

‘He visits those who accept Hissacrifice, who long for His appearing. Heyearns for His subjects; He is their King.’Jether’s voice was soft.

They watched in silence as Jesuswalked towards the rubied lightning boltsthat flashed from the secret portal that ledfrom the seventh spire directly before theGreat White Throne.

‘He goes to requisition Yehovah. He istouched by their infirmities.’

Jesus walked into the glorious source ofthe thunder and lightnings, His headraised, surrounded by an unearthlyradiance, His face exultant with therapture. Then vanished.

* * *The Great Silver Battlements of the

citadel of Gehenna glistened in the ninemagenta ice suns that rose from the murky,cold skies above the ice-capped crags ofVesper in the Second Heaven.

The wild, barren ice wastelandsstretched for miles, surrounding the greatforbidding fortress. Freezing arcticblizzards and tempests from Mars circledthe citadel continually, venting their furyon the alabaster battlements of Lucifer’swinter palace.

Gargantuan white vultures circled thebleak plains, their wingspans reached ahundred feet, their mangy feathers grimywith dried blood.

The menacing satanic princes arrivedone by one in their chariots of the damned,each pulled by twenty dark-wingedgriffons. From Babylon and Ethiopia,

Grecia, and China they came. FromSiberia and from Persia. From Gog andMagog. Their great and terrible armiesassembled on the ice plains of Gehenna toexecute their bidding.

Thousands of the sinister Black Magirode across the plains on their headlessthree-humped camels. Close behind flewthe Witches of Babylon and the dreadWarlocks of Ishtar on the backs ofwerewolves and dragons, their facesraised in ecstasy to the ice blizzards.

From above the skies they came –thousands of dauphin scribes with clovenhoofs, flying towards Gehenna, and fromunder the earth they came, Hera and theBanshees of Valkyrie, riding on Leviathanand giant serpents. The Wort Seers ofDiablos and the Necromancer Kings. All

across the plains, as far as the eye couldsee, the fallen were gathering.

Answering the call. To hold high courtin the Dread Councils of Hell.

Lucifer turned from the window facingthe great hall and smiled.

‘The disciples of hell are assembled,’he said. ‘Let the gathering commence.’

* * *Lucifer stood under the vast open dome inthe centre of the Great War Chamber ofGehenna, his eyes closed, his robeblowing violently in the dark blizzardsthat blew in from the White DwarfPinnacles. The nine magenta ice suns weresetting, and in their place rose the sevencomets of Thuban, their flaming hoarfrosttails blazing above the bleak ice plains of

Gehenna. Hundreds of ferocious snowhellhounds, each with six heads andglowing red eyes, patrolled the plains inpacks.

He bowed his head, his armsoutstretched, as six enormous black seraphwings extended from his spine. A secondlater, he was in the ornately carved highplace of the war chamber, a thousand feetup. He stood, resplendent in hisceremonial robes, crowned withtranslucent rays of light in the carved hornpulpit that hung from the high place in thecentre of the dome. His back was turned tothe hundreds of thousands of fallengathered in the war chamber. A greatoration came forth from his lips. Thesound was as the sound of celestial pipesand of flutes and clarinets and of every

pipe ever heard in the universe. Adiscordant song of the damned burst forthfrom the host of the fallen in response.

The monstrous bells of limbo pealed,rung by the Banshees of Valkyrie fromtheir perches in the basilica belfry.

Lucifer lifted his sceptre, his magentavelvet robes billowing in the violent icetempests.

He turned to face the damned gatheredin the great war chamber – the greatassembly of powers of evil and terror –the rulers of the dark world. His intensesapphire eyes blazed fiercely.

The great prince of Babylonia stood.‘We have heard, O great Satan, that yourkingdom is plundered,’ his voice wasspun like silk. ‘The Gates of Hell spoiled,the keys to hell and death purloined.’

He sat caressing the razored edge of hisjewelled scimitar, an inscrutable smile onhis face

The menacing Dragon Warlord of Chinastood in his robes of crimson dragon robesilks. ‘Word has reached us, the fallen,that your empire has been pillaged.’ Hisbeady yellow slit eyes glinted withmutiny. ‘The crypts of hell are ransacked.’He sat, folding his broad hands across hischest, fingering his great iron mace.

‘Word has reached us under the earth...’The ancient leader of the Harpies flewbefore the throne, her body of a wingedmonster, her head of an ugly old crone.‘...that your power is dissipated,’ shewarbled, her wings flapping.

The Dread Warlocks of Ishtar stood asone body. ‘Persuade us, iniquitous Light-

Bearer, dark seraph, that thy kingdom stillstands,’ they hissed in their dark treacled,seditious voices. ‘Or should we chooseanother to rule over us?...’

The dark, subversive whispers ragedthrough the assembly of the damned. Thestooped Darkened Councils and magi satunder the high place, their cowled hoodsconcealing their faces. Marduk arose fromthe bench of the Darkened Councils andbowed his head in reverence.

‘You have been summoned to the DreadCouncils of Hell, princes of darkness andgreat powers of the damned, by the oneand only true king of this world, Lucifer,crowned Satan.’

Lucifer surveyed the assembly. Theroom fell silent.

‘A dreadful day has dawned in the

regions of the damned.’ His voice shookwith rage.

‘A day so dire, that none couldconceive it.’

‘The Day of the Nazarene.’ No onestirred.

‘Golgotha,’ a voice whispered.A great shudder of terror ran through

the entire assembly.‘Golgotha!’ the banshees shrieked,

clasping their ears.‘We lose our strength!’ the Witches of

Endor cried.‘Golgotha,’ The warlocks of Ishtar

clutched their throats. Retching.‘Golgotha!’ the Wort Seers of Diablos

rasped.Lucifer stood, his sceptre raised.‘We would settle the score – we seek

revenge!’ he cried.The entire assembly stood to their feet

as one.‘We seek revenge, O Satan!’ they cried

as one voice.‘Draw and quarter the Nazarene,’

Hecate, the ancient crone, shrieked, hertwisted green fingers clasping her throat.‘Steep Him in wolfsbane.’

‘Boil Him in burning pitch!’ shriekedanother.

‘Cut off His hands and feet and feedHim to Leviathan,’ hissed the Lord of theWarlocks.

Lucifer raised his hands to quiet theassembly.

‘No!’ he cried. ‘You will have yourbloodshed later – I vow it. There is amore expedient way, but first...’

He cast his eye across the chamber.Twenty-four fallen satanic princes, his

generals, wearing black armour andgolden crowns, walked before him,bowing deeply.

‘I seek for loyal followers...’A thousand of Lucifer’s Black Horde

stepped forward and sealed the greatgates.

‘Devoted disciples.’He nodded to Balam. Instantly fifty of

his menacing Black Guard surrounded thegreat prince of Babylonia. The ShamanKings took savage hold of the dragonwarlord.

‘Throw the craven traitors into theAbyss!’ Lucifer cried.

Huldah and his Shaman Kings draggedthe prince and the warlord through the rear

hall, out to the ice wastes.‘Wait ... I shall gift you with five

hundred crimson-bellied dragons!’screamed the warlord.

Lucifer looked straight ahead incontempt.

Their blood-curdling screams of terrorechoed through the bleak ice wastelands,filling the chamber. Then a sombre silencefell.

Lucifer surveyed the assembly intriumph.

‘Should you choose another to rule overyou?’ he whispered.

He strode down the hall, studying thefaces before him intently, and stopped infront of the old harpy crone. Again henodded to Balam.

‘No-o-o-o-o-o!’ she screeched as two

of the Black Horde grasped her wings andcarried her off. Her demented screamingfilled the Chamber, then died away.

‘Who else casts doubt on me?’One by one the damned stood to their

feet all across the Chamber.‘O fallen one, Satan, tempter, nemesis

to the Race of Men,’ they chanted inunison, ‘we declare our allegiance. Thereis none so great as you.’

‘We declare our allegiance. Weworship you,’ echoed the damned.’

Lucifer smiled.‘I call upon Charsoc, dark apostle,

sorcerer.’Charsoc rose from his throne at the

head of the Dark Grey Magi and bowed.‘Mighty Emperor,’ he said, bowing

again to Lucifer. He turned to address the

gathering. ‘My revered compatriots of thedamned, I recite the articles of EternalLaw: “If one undefiled from the Race ofMen is willing to shed His lifeblood onbehalf of the Race of Men, and become asubstitute for judgement, the said Race ofMen, past, present, and future generations,will be released from eternal judgementby the death of that one.” This is bindingEternal Law.’

Lucifer raised his head, a sinister smileon his face.

‘For those of the Race of Men ... only ifthey receive the great sacrifice.’

Charsoc nodded, his face ripe withevil. ‘Each time one of the Race of Menaccepts the Nazarene’s sacrifice, he isbranded with the seal of Yehovah – theseal of the First Heaven on his forehead –

the seal of the Nazarene. It is a seal thatdenotes his transferral from the kingshipof Satan to the kingship of Yehovah.’

Charsoc nodded to his liege Lord. ‘Theseal is not visible to those of the Race ofMen,’ he hissed. ‘It is visible only tothose of the First Heaven and to the realmsof the damned. It represents the shedblood of Golgotha.’ Charsoc surveyed thefallen. ‘It bestows on its wearer the samepowers as the Nazarene.’ A ripple ofhorror spread like wildfire through thechamber.

Dagda, brother of Nakan, now grislyking of the Necromancers, stood up andlumbered to the front of the hall. ‘I haveseen the seal only once,’ he croaked. Hisvoice was thick with iniquity. Heshuddered, clutching his black cloak to his

cumbersome frame with his fleshypigmented hands. ‘It smoulders on theirforeheads like a hideous luminous furnacein our spirit realm and renders us, thedamned, powerless against such a one.’

Lucifer paced up and down, his handsbehind his back. ‘It greatly compromisesour power in the realms of men. If athousand, a hundred thousand, a million ofthe Race of Men were to wear the seal, itcould decimate the realms of the damned.’

Sethunelah, the ancient leader of themacabre Black Magi stood. ‘The Spirit isnot strong with the Race of Men.’ Hisvoice was a soft nightmarish slither. ‘Theyare formed of the mud, and the dust ofearth clings to them. They live by theirminds, their souls consumed with theaffairs of men. They do not comprehend

affairs of the Spirit.’ He smoothed hisblack robes with pale bony fingers. ‘We,the fallen, must feed on their weakness.’

Failenn, queen of the demon witches,rose from the back of the assembly.

All eyes were riveted on her. She worea long, flowing diaphanous dress of whitegossamer, her porcelain skin visiblebeneath it. Her floor-length auburn hair,woven with lilies, fell thick and gleamingdown her back. She walked towardsLucifer, her voice beguiling, honey-tongued yet poisonous as hemlock. ‘Lurethem with our enticements, my lord.Persuade them with our intellects.’ Sheflung around, transformed in an instant intoa hideous, hunched crone with wrinkledgreen skin like a toad’s, a long, twistedchin, gnarled and clawed hands. ‘Deceive

them with our enchantments!’ her chillingscream rang out. Lucifer rubbed hisfingers together in pleasure.

The Dread Warlocks of Ishtar stood, allten thousand speaking as one voice.

‘Venerated Excellency.’ Their darkdepraved tones echoed through theChamber. ‘We must dethrone the Nazarenein the minds and souls of the Race of Menuntil they consider Him as just one ofthemselves – no greater, no lesser. Wewill humanize them. Secularize them.They will call Him virtuous. They willcall Him good ... but they will not callHim God.’

‘They shall call Him noble,’ theBanshees screeched.

‘They shall call Him good,’ cackled theWitches of Babylon.

‘They shall not call Him God!’ theNecromancer Kings cried.

‘They shall call Him noble,’ the DemonWitches wailed.

‘They shall call Him good,’ theWarlocks of Ishtar rasped.

The entire assembly stood.‘THEY SHALL NOT CALL HIM

GOD!’ they roared.Lucifer and Charsoc exchanged

glances.‘And if he is not God,’ Lucifer

murmured, ‘he is dethroned ... in the heartsand souls of the Race of Men.’

A great cry broke out across the WarChamber. ‘Dethrone the Nazarene!’

‘Dethrone the Nazarene!’Lucifer stood, an evil smile on his lips.‘We shall erase His name and face

forever from the records of the Race ofMen. The terrible sacrifice shall be amere myth for the weak and stumbling andthe babes in arms. The sacrifice onGolgotha shall be in vain, for they shallnot heed it.’

Lucifer raised his voice to the heavens.‘Mobilize all armies of the damned to

deceive the Race of Men. Above the earthand under the earth, rulers of the darkplaces. Powers. Principalities. Thrones.Satanic Princes, Shaman Kings, Warlocks,Witches, Magi, Harpies – all who aresubject to you – are my loyal subjects. Weshall next convene at the turn of the seconddecade of the second millennium of theRace of Men.’

He ran his pale fingers slowly throughthe dark stubble on his head.

‘The Nazarene shall wish He had neverstirred the wrath of the son of destruction.’

* * *

AD 33Five Years Later

Jotapa stood outside Aretas’ chambers,folding and refolding the now crumpled,tear-stained missive that had arrived fromJerusalem only an hour before. Five yearshad passed since the Nazarene’s death onthe cross on Golgotha.

Ghaliya was now with other believersin Jerusalem and communicated withJotapa faithfully. The Hebrew’s death hadnot been in vain. Zahi and hundreds likehim had insisted on staying with the

disciples in Jerusalem. The Hebrew’sfollowers had multiplied in number allover Palestine and Asia Minor.

Two years ago, Zahi and Duza had leftJerusalem, travelling to Phoenicia and theisle of Cyprus, journeying throughThessalonica and finally arriving inAntioch, in Syria. Jotapa smiled throughher tears. Zahi knew her exotic tastes andwould send her colourful and outlandishtrinkets from the marketplaces of the citieswhere they toiled, preaching of theHebrew’s Father and of the First Heaven.But four months ago, the trinkets andmissives had stopped.

And today she had received the awfulconfirmation from Ghaliya.

First, the brilliant and gifted youthStephen with the tight black curls, whom

Zahi had loved and tutored at nights in allthe great languagues of Arabia, had beenstoned to death outside the city ofJerusalem. But worse news was to follow.Written in the swarthy fisherman Peter’shand, the missive was only barely legible– but legible enough to send her runningfrom the room, screaming.

The faithful Ayeshe had soothed herwith the ancient Arabic lullabies, butneither of them knew how to break theappalling news to the king, Aretas.

‘I have to do it, Ayeshe,’ she hadwhispered. ‘It is a daughter’s task.’ And atlast Ayeshe had agreed.

Since the night of the conversation ofthe Hebrew’s resurrection, Aretas hadwithdrawn from Jotapa, from Arabia, andfrom his God. His body had weakened

alarmingly, and though physicians hadcome from all over Arabia, Persia, andIndia with their potions, still Aretas grewfrailer. Jotapa knew that both Zahi andDuza prayed for his soul faithfully, that hewould remain steadfast in his faith in theHebrew. And now this last hideous blow.

She paced up and down outside hischambers incessantly, then finally noddedto Aretas’ royal guard, who at onceopened the huge golden doors.

Aretas stood, aged and frail, leaning ona cane, his hands behind his back, staringout at the fountains in the Royal Pavilions.

He turned.‘Jotapa.’ His expression was soft.‘I have missed your fellowship,

daughter.’‘As I yours, father,’ Jotapa replied

softly.He looked down and saw the tear-

stained missive clutched in her hand. Hisface turned to stone. Without a word, helimped across the marbled floor andsnatched it out of her grasp.

Unfolding it, he quickly scanned thecontents. He uttered a terrible, almostnoiseless scream, the papyrus flutteringfrom his hands to the floor, he stumbled tothe window in a daze.

‘My beloved tender Zahi...’ He staredout of the windows, tears streaming downhis face, unheeded.

‘Crucifed upside down!’ He turned toJotapa, his face ablaze with a terriblefury.

‘Tell me, Jotapa, WHERE is the loveand mercy of the God of the Hebrew? It is

a farce!’ he raged, slamming his fist on thetable. ‘A desperate myth for gulliblechildren as they build their dirt castles onthe desert floor ... My son, dead,’ hewhimpered.

‘Never – Jotapa!’ He snatched up thecross from the altar and smashed it downon the table. It shattered into three pieceson the marble floor.

‘Never will His name be spoken againin the house of Arabia. Never will theHebrew’s name be heard.’ He turned, hiseyes flashing dangerously with rage.

‘Never again will a Hebrew be ourfriend.’

Jotapa watched helplessly as Aretasbeat his feeble fists against the wall, hisarms flailing.

‘My son is dead,’ he lamented, his eyes

glazed and unseeing. His frail bodycollapsed under him, and he slid down thewall to the floor. ‘Zahi...,’ he moaned.

Chapter Forty-seven

The Rubied Door

Aretas lay sleeping, propped up by sevenfringed vermillion satin pillows. Jotapasat next to him, his frail veined handclasped in hers. He was restless, thrashingfrom side to side, his silk bedclothessoaked with his perspiration for the fourthtime that day. He drew deep, raspingbreaths.

Ayeshe smoothed his brow with old,veined fingers. Too often before, he hadheard the death rattle as life ebbed out.Simple as the old Bedouin was, he knewthat King Aretas was dying. It was all

connected with the Hebrew. Of that,Ayeshe was certain.

Jotapa rose from his bedside, re-lit thesputtering lanterns, then poured outanother draught of medicinal potion intothe king’s goblet. The potion, the latest ofa dozen this month alone, had arrived bycamel that dawn from the caliph of Persiain the east.

Aretas’ old compatriot, Abgar ofEdessa, had journeyed across desert andplains to visit him, but Aretas wouldtolerate none of the Armenian king’sstories of how the Hebrew had healed himwhen he lay dying; indeed, Aretas had sentthe great and generous king away, grievingfor the loss of their old friendship.

Ayeshe shook his head.‘His malady is a sickness of his soul.

The potion will do nothing!’ Ayeshe threwhis hands up in the air, muttering darkly inSyriac under his breath. ‘It is all to dowith the Hebrew.’

Jotapa sighed. ‘He is slipping awayfrom us, Ayeshe. He has become ashadow of the great king of Arabia heonce was.’

‘He has not forgiven the Hebrew fordying on the cross or for taking hisfirstborn son from him.’

There was a soft knock at the door.Jotapa frowned. It was late, only a fewhours before dawn. She reached for one ofthe lanterns and walked across to thebedchamber door, softly opening it,gasping as a brilliant light radiatedthrough the entrance.

In the centre of the brilliance, facing

Jotapa, stood Jesus.She dropped to her knees.Her gaze moved upward, from the hem

of His indigo silk robe to the platinumsash around His waist.

His face radiated a light so brilliant thatHis head and hair seemed white as snow,but as the shimmering waves of lightsettled, she could make out the deep,flaming dark mane. Resting on His headwas a golden crown, set with three greatrubies.

She stared mesmerized at the high,bronzed cheekbones, the blazing cleareyes that flashed from hues of blue toemerald to brown like flames of livingfire. The great King of Heaven. Her King.Beautiful beyond imagining.

Jesus walked slowly over towards

Aretas. He stopped beside the bed, Jotapawatching from the door. He gazed down atthe sleeping king with a look of infinitetenderness and compassion.

‘My friend, Aretas,’ he murmured,bending over him, gently stroking thethinning silver hair on the dying king’shead.

‘Blessed are all those who have notseen Me and yet still believe,’ hemurmured in wonder. ‘He looked down atAretas with a deep compassion in Hiseyes – a compassion that understood aking’s confusion, that forgave a king’sscepticism, that washed away a king’sbitterness, that embraced Aretas the man,Aretas, the friend who had protected Himas a babe in arms.

Jotapa gasped as her father’s eyelids

fluttered. Slowly his eyes focused. Hefrowned, and gazed long and hard intoJesus’ face. A fleeting recognition lit hisfeatures.

He shook his head in disbelief, and asmile of incredible joy broke over hisface. He stared, enraptured, his eyes neveronce wavering from Jesus’ face.

‘It is You,’ he gasped, attempting toprop himself up with feeble arms.Clumsily he clasped Jesus’ strong handsin his two frail ones. Then he frowned. Heturned Jesus’ hands around until the palmswere facing him.

He stared at the harsh, jagged wounds,then cupped his mouth with both hands,horror-struck, the tears coursing down hisface.

Jesus smiled and nodded. Aretas buried

his face in Jesus’ hands, his tears fallingon the gaping wounds. Jesus clasped thefrail old man to His breast, deeplytouched. Jotapa looked up through hertears, laughing exultantly in sheer,abandoned joy.

‘My Hebrew friend,’ Aretas murmuredthough his wracking sobs. And Jesuswept. Jotapa stared, transfixed as ashining white seal slowly materialized onAretas’ forehead in the sign of a cross.

‘Come, My friend,’ Jesus said. ‘Thereis something I must show you.’

With infinite gentleness Jesus easedAretas out of the bed and, clasping himtightly around his waist, led him over tothe huge palace doors that opened onto theexotic oriental gardens. He pulled backthe heavy pale rose silk curtains.

There, at the base of the marble steps,stood Zahi, radiant, his arms outstretchedto his father.

Aretas looked back to Jesus, his eyeswide and questioning. Jesus nodded.

Jotapa moved towards him, tearsstreaming down her face.

‘You are taking him?’‘If it is his wish,’ Jesus said quietly.Aretas looked at Zahi, then at Jesus,

then back to Jotapa. ‘It is my wish.’ Heturned to Jotapa, torn.

‘I would go with them, Jotapa,’ hewhispered. ‘I would visit the land of theRubied Door.’

Jotapa flew into Aretas’ arms. Heclasped her tightly to him. She held him asthough she would never let him go, hertears staining his night-robe. Finally, she

looked up at him, her words hardlydistinguishable through her sobs.

‘I will miss you, dearest Papa ... Go,’she sobbed. ‘Go and be with those youlove.’

Aretas kissed her fiercely on the head,as he had done when she was a child.

‘You will make a great queen ofArabia!’ he declared, then turned to Jesus,who nodded.

And unaided, he strode through thegrand doors, down the marble stairstowards his firstborn son, whose armsstretched wide to greet him. He turnedonce more to look back at Jotapa, and thenhe was gone.

Jotapa turned from the doors to findAyeshe, his face awash with tears.

They were alone in the room.

Then Jotapa looked towards the king’sbedstead.

Aretas lay dead, the most incrediblesmile on his countenance. And the threepieces of the Hebrew’s cross wereclutched in his right hand.

* * *

2021London

Jotapa, princess of Jordan, slowly foldedher namesake’s final missive and replacedit back in the bundle of ancient papers.She wiped the tears from her cheeks withthe palm of her hand and rose, fingeringthe small silver cross at her neck.

Her dark hair fell loose past her

shoulders, onto her long silk negligee. Shewalked over to the large double windowsand flung open the curtains, her bare feetsinking into the penthouse suite’s plushcarpet. The black London taxis were stilltravelling over Westminster Bridge. Shestared out past the London Eye, over theThames River towards Big Ben and theHouses of Parliament, gazing up at thestrange white apparition above the Londonskyline.

* * *

2021Alexandria, Egypt

Nick stood bare-chested in his jeans onthe balcony of the grand old Cecil Hotel,

on Saad Zaghlou Square, gazing out at theuninterrupted view of the eastern bay andthe yacht harbour. He inhaled deeply,smelling the salty sea air from theMediterranean.

Tonight he indulged in the raresentimentality that, as an Englishman inEgypt, he relished the fact that bothSomerset Maugham and Noel Coward hadlingered there on a balcony before himand that even the British Secret Servicehad once maintained a suite in the oldCecil Hotel for its operations. As good areason as any to stay there. Plus the addedinterest of the hotel’s Moorisharchitecture, a constant memorial to theformer seat of Alexandria’s lavishextravagance.

Nick smiled idly at the incessant

hooting and vociferous haggling thatdrifted up from Alexandria’s legendarycafés and patisseries, even though it wasnearly one in the morning. He had flown infrom Rome to Cairo on the late flight, thendriven straight down the major highwaythat linked Cairo and Alexandria, arrivingin the old city just an hour earlier.Tomorrow at dawn he would visit what heconsidered the only real antiquities site inthe area tomorrow – Kom el-Dikka, wherea small Roman theatre had been excavated– before driving out to the desertmonastery, where Professor Lawrence StCartier would be waiting for him.

Nick raised his eyes for what must havebeen the sixth time that evening towardsthe full moon that glowed high in theEgyptian night sky, at the strange white

apparition – then turned and walked insideto the disappointingly nondescript hotelroom. He sighed, studying the predictablewallpaper and the mass produced coverleton the bed. Then lay back heavily on thehard mattress, closing his eyes. His bodywas failing rapidly now; he could feel it.He stared down at the ribs now partiallyvisible through his chest. He had lostanother eight pounds this past fortnight.His faded jeans hung loose on his hips,held up only by an expensive soft leatherbelt buckled at its tightest notch.

He knew the exact day and hour when ithad happened. It was a Sunday night inAmsterdam. They were rich, young, andbored. Celebrity fodder. Seven of themhad used the same needle that night – fourguys, three girls – their whole lives in

front of them. The heroin had been a kick– the virus lived on long after theadrenaline faded. It was the deadlieststrain of AIDS yet – pernicious, invasive.

The sixth had died last Monday. It wasall over the British papers. She had been amodel. From Manchester. The world ather feet. Her parents were devastated.

Nick felt for the remote and switched iton. He changed the channel on Nilesatfrom some obscure homegrown Egyptiandrama, punching the remote until he foundAl Jazeera.

There on a replay, beaming fromDamascus, was his brother Adrian DeVere. Thank God for Adrian. Nick knewhe could never have made it this farwithout him. He studied his elder brother.Adrian must have taken Julia’s advice and

hired a top stylist. He was tanned, lean,his dark hair gleaming, looking every bitthe sophisticated Hollywood star – exceptthat he was newly appointed president ofthe European Union and the youngestinitiator of a Middle East peace accord inhistory.

Nick yawned, exhausted, then fell intorestless dreams of monks and antiquities,of his brothers, Jason and Adrian DeVere, the remote still clutched in his hand... and of the Jordanian princess.

* * *

2021Washington DC

Jason De Vere watched from the roof of

the Chamber of Commerce building asMarine One took off from the WhiteHouse lawn for Camp David. Thepresident and the Chinese foreign ministerhad left the gala party half an hour ago,followed by the last of the Capitol Hillsenators and the group from the Chineseembassy. Only the usual Washingtonstragglers and media wannabes still hungaround, warded away from Jason by hiswell-paid, extremely efficient minders.

He put down his whisky glass heavilyon the makeshift banquet table and walkedacross the roof, past the media tentsbelonging to VOX Communications, hispersonal media empire. The Chinese andforeign film crews had all derigged; onlythe BBC and SKY were still rolling uptheir cables.

Jason smiled. A rare act. Elated. Twoyears ago, VOX had been ready. Alreadyowning majority shares in broadcastplatforms throughout the USA, Europe,Asia and the Middle East, he had boughtout Direct TV, followed three months laterby FOX News and its British equivalent,SKY, finally clinching the acquisition of21st Century Fox. And yesterday VOX hadsigned one of the biggest global broadcastbuyouts of all time, with Beijing – thegreatest risk Jason De Vere had evertaken, all things considered. He nowappeared to be unstoppable. Not bad forthe ripe old age of forty-four.

He looked out at the White House,where he could see the familiar outline ofsnipers on the roof. His mobile rang.

‘Yes,’ he answered tersely. ‘No, we

won’t budge. It’s as high as we go. Myposition is unchanged.’

He ran down his messages. No personalcalls. In fact, he hadn’t received a singlepersonal call since his divorce from Juliahad been finalised thirteen months ago ...except from his mother ... and Adrian.

Julia. Jason froze.He had been shocked. More than

shocked. Stunned at the intense rush ofemotions on seeing Julia last week inDamascus. Their meeting had deeplyunnerved him. Bewildered him. He stillloved her; that much he now knew. But hedidn’t dare run the risk of having to dealagain with such highly charged emotions.He would never see Julia in person again– never, he vowed inwardly, unless it wasa matter of life and death.

He replaced the phone in the case at hiship and stared out one last time at theview of the White House, which wasfeeding live to M Street uplinking to VOXsatellites worldwide. Then once again atthe strange white image still hung highabove the Washington skyline. He ran hisfingers through his close-cropped greyinghair. Julia would hate it. That thought gavehim a childish rush of pleasure.

He glanced at his watch and frowned. Itwas Adrian’s birthday tomorow. Hisfortieth.

He made a note to phone France in themorning.

* * *

2021

Le Mont-St-MichelNormandy, France

A tall man, impeccably dressed in aSavile Row suit, stood staring out of theenormous cherrywood balcony doors ofthe European summer palace library. Inhis hands he held a parchment with strangeAramaic letterings. He stared past thehundreds of military police patrolling theperimeters of the double chain-link fence,past the circling gunships overhead, hisgaze transfixed on the waxen apparition,visible against the full moon, in thedarkening skies above the Atlantic.

A Jesuit priest, dressed in the flowinggarb of his order of the ‘Black Robes’,walked towards him, his antique silver-

knobbed cane tapping evenly on thepolished mahogany floors. He stopped afew paces behind the man.

‘The White Rider.’The man nodded. His raven hair was

fashionably long, falling just below hiscollar, gleaming blue-black in themoonlight.

‘Our sign is in the heavens.’He turned slightly, the outline of his

chiselled features suddenly visible in themoonlight. His profile was arresting ...strangely beautiful.

‘We have waited over two thousandyears for our revenge.’

The man stared out at the monumentalview across the bay. Moving into thestream of moonlight, he gazed in thegeneral direction of the apparition. His

hands trembled with contained rage as helit a black taper, held it to the parchment,and watched it burn.

‘And now we avenge our dishonour,’Lucifer murmured. ‘Our humiliation at thehands of the Nazarene.’

Lucifer smoothed his Jesuit robes,caressed the carved silver serpent on thetop of his cane and gave a slow, malicioussmile. ‘...We avenge Golgotha.’

Chronicles of Brothers– Book Three –Son of Perdition

The fate of unborn millions will nowdepend, under God, on the courage ofthis Army. Our cruel and unrelentingenemy leaves only the choice of braveresistance or the most abject submission.We have, therefore resolved to conqueror die.(GW1, General Order to the Continental Army, 2 July,1776)

World Trade Club107th Floor

World Trade Centre NorthManhattan, New York

Chapter One

They Cast No Shadows

It was 10th of September, a day like anyother, the Jesuit priest reflected. Atprecisely 8.46 am tomorrow the entireworld would change.

This fact he also pondered as he gazedout of the vast expanse of glass at thebreathtaking panorama of the Manhattanskyline from the private club room thatsoared a full quarter of a mile in the airabove New York.

He stared silently across thespectacular vista of the Manhattanharbour, his eyes fixed on the incessant

passage of sleek 757 and 747 airlinersarriving and departing from La Guardia,JFK and Newark Airports.

Finally the priest drew his gaze awayfrom the skyline and turned.

His face, although strangely scarred,was imperial. His features striking. Thewide brow and straight patrician noseframed imperious sapphire eyes that helda haunting, mesmerising beauty. His thickraven hair was silvering at the edges.

On an average day he wore itfastidiously pulled back from his highcheekbones into his customary braidbound by a simple black band.

On an average day, he wore the flowingBlack Robes of his Jesuit Order.

But today was not an average day andthis dusk the Jesuit priest’s gleaming

raven tresses fell loose to his shoulders,skimming the exquisitely tailored bespokeDomenico Vacca suit, its high armholesand barely a thread of excess fabricaccentuating the deliberately honed bodybeneath.

The priest caressed the carved silverserpent on the top of his cane. He slowlysurveyed the men seated before him.

The Council of Thirteen, the highestorders of the Committee of 300, the BlackNobility of Venice. The Supreme MotherCouncil of the 33rd degree masons of theScottish Rite.

He scanned the faces of the Chairmen ofthe Club of Rome, the Federal Reserve,the Bilderberger Group, the InternationalMonetary Fund, the Bohemian Grove, theLucius Trust, his gaze finally resting on

the Frater Superior and Grand Tribunal ofthe Ordo Templi Orienti.

The Grand Masters of the Illuminati.The secret illuminatus who controlled

the American government.Who controlled every government of

the Eastern and Western world.A slight smile flickered across his lips.Who were in turn controlled by him.Lorcan De Molay.

Chronicles of Brothers – Book 3: Son ofPerditionOrder now onwww.chroniclesofbrothers.comor from Waterstones, Amazon, Bordersor your local independent book store

Table of ContentsCopyrightDedicationQuoteThe CharactersFrom ‘The Fall of Lucifer’The

Chronicles of Brothers – Book 1PrologueChapter One

Prince of PerditionChapter Two

Aretas of PetraChapter Three

BrothersChapter Four

The First HeavenChapter Five

HerodChapter Six

ChristosChapter Seven

The RevelationChapter Eight

The Seventh StoneChapter Nine

The Hordes of HellChapter Ten

AlexandriaChapter Eleven

Monastery of ArchangelsChapter Twelve

MeggidoChapter Thirteen

The GatheringChapter Fourteen

AD 26

Chapter FifteenBetrayal – AD 27

Chapter SixteenTerms of Engagement

Chapter SeventeenThe Vale of Temptation – AD27

Chapter EighteenFlight – AD 27

Chapter NineteenZahi

Chapter TwentyKerf Kenna – AD 27

Chapter Twenty-oneAD 27

Chapter Twenty-twoGerasene

Chapter Twenty-threeSubterfuge

Chapter Twenty-fourThe Veil

Chapter Twenty-fiveThe Hebrew

Chapter Twenty-sixDark Choices

Chapter Twenty-sevenGalilee

Chapter Twenty-eightMandragora

Chapter Twenty-nineLazarus

Chapter ThirtyLower than the Angels

Chapter Thirty-oneJudas

Chapter Thirty-twoThe Trophy

Chapter Thirty-three

GethsemaneChapter Thirty-four

The WitnessChapter Thirty-five

Antonia – AD 30Chapter Thirty-six

The Place of the SkullChapter Thirty-seven

GolgothaChapter Thirty-eight

The VeilChapter Thirty-nine

Hell’s GatesChapter Forty

Warrior KingChapter Forty-one

JotapaChapter Forty-two

The Carnelian Chalice

Chapter Forty-threeMourning

Chapter Forty-fourEchoes of Eternity

Chapter Forty-fiveThe First Judgement

Chapter Forty-sixThe Dread Councils of Hell

Chapter Forty-sevenThe Rubied Door

Chronicles of Brothers – Book 3: Son ofPerdition

They Cast No Shadows