Free The Kingdom of the Wicked by Anthony Burgess Page A

or segen, the man of the mountain of the house, whatever that means —’ish liar ha-bayith, I can render it no other way — leading a body of muscular Levites. The Sadducees and some of the chief priests, the lowlier ones keeping out of it, laid the usual charge — preaching resurrection, practising mountebank trickery, collecting a crowd and causing a disturbance — and the sagan or segen, in his fine breastplate and helmet, said: 'Under arrest, you and you and this leaping one also.
           You're to be locked up for the night. You'll be tried at dawn.'
           'We've things to do at dawn,' John roared. 'Baptism of the newly faithful.'
           'Well, you won't be available, will you? Come on.'
           The 'ish har ha-bayith and his dozen or so Levites with their ornamental daggers took Peter, John and the healed cripple to a small and holy prison (necessarily holy: it was not Roman) near the eastern end of the bridge that crossed the Tyropoeon valley. There they were shown into a cold cell with a heavy door and locked in with a heavy key that ground squealingly into a rusty ward. There was a seven — barred wind eye above standing headlevel. The beggar leapt up to see if he could see out of it. 'Stop that,' Peter said wearily. John bawled through the doorbars:
           'Food!'
           'If you want food,' a guard said, 'you'll have to pay for it.’
           ‘Have you any money?' John asked the no longer leaping one.
           'I've not taken much today. And here's a question for you: how do I earn my living from now on?'
           'We always get that question,' the tired Peter said. 'Learn a decent trade. Pottery, carpentry, something.'
           'At my age? Who'd take me on as an apprentice now?'
           'Have you money or have you not?' John bawled.
           'Oh, all right then. But you won't get much with this bit of tinkle.'
           They got stale bread and musty water. They slept uneasily on the cold stone floor. When the dawn cock indiscreetly crew (who of us is worthy, who?) they were let out and led to the council chamber, not far from the jail, the place called the lishkath ha-gazith, or hall beside the Xystos, this Xystos being the polished stone gathering place in the open air on the western side of the hill of the Temple. The beggar leapt most of the way to confirm that his cure was genuine, and Peter in his fatigue said: 'Please. Walk like a man.' Outside the chamber they were kept waiting for over an hour. A man was selling baked fish nearby, and the pungent reek was a torture to their empty bellies. At length they were admitted and they gaped at what they saw. Most of the Sanhedrin was assembled for them, though there were more Sadducees than Pharisees. You always stood a chance with the Pharisees.
           Annas was there, appointed high priest by Quirinius, the legate of Syria some twenty-six years back, deposed nine years later but the main power still of the priesthood, which was all in his family anyway. His son-in-law, Caiaphas, made successor to the old man by Valerius Gratus, procurator before Pilate, they knew too well. There was the son of Annas, Jonathan, and a mild little man named ineptly Alexander. There were priests and laymen muttering in their beards. Caiaphas, president of the court, opening the proceedings by saying:
           'It is claimed that you cured a man well known to be incurable. Is he in the court? Yes, I see he is. This leaping is unseemly. So. By what authority and in whose name have you effected this cure?'
           Peter had prepared no words. Jesus had always insisted on the advisability of keeping one's head and mouth empty so that the bird of inspiration could flutter in, or wind blow in. Peter's tongue felt fire blaze at its root and he said:
           'Rulers of the people, elders, it seems that John here and I are charged with the crime of doing a good deed to a poor cripple