The trip to the Anatolian border took nearly three months, the group stopping at roadside markets in Lebanon and Syria to replenish his parent’s food supplies. When in town they stopped at local inns to bathe and refresh themselves. Informed of this fact early in the trip by his father, Jesus and his consort found that even vampires, regardless of fastidiousness in the taking of victims, were in need of a bath occasionally.
During that time, the couple learned more about their undead natures, finding they could fast for a night or two when their form of food was not readily available, or could even substitute blood from lower forms of life if necessary. Both found such animal fare unappetizing, but it did fill the certain void they felt when pangs of hunger came calling. In these lean times along the desolate Roman highway, they had no other choice available. In their wake, they had left several auroch, ox, boar, and deer carcasses littering the road, drained of blood, bloating and rotting in the sun during the day.
The New Year arrived, 34 of the Common Era coming uneventfully for the travelers while passing through southwestern Syria. A few weeks later they arrived at a large city named Antioch during the evening. The capitol of the eastern part of the Roman Empire, like Rome, Antioch was a city that never slept, inns, taverns, and brothels open all night long. A modern city by the standards of the day, Antioch was a beautiful place, with gleaming marble buildings, ornate fountains, a central forum or marketplace, and was surrounded by thick groves of cypress trees.
“So this is the big city,” Joseph observed, watching shivering patrons standing in line outside a brothel on the cool night, “If you ask me they can keep it.”
“I agree with you,” said Jesus, “I usually prefer the country and small towns too.”
“Hunting will be much better here,” a famished Magdalene spoke up.
“We won’t be here long woman, but I suppose it would be a good idea to take a breather at an inn and get a bite to eat.”
Joseph smiled, amused at the euphemisms his son used to describe cold-blooded murder.
Stopping at an inn, Jesus walked to the office and rented two spacious rooms for the group. “I want the rooms for two days, leaving on the evening after tomorrow.”
“Certainly,” the innkeeper replied, “Breakfast is at seven, dinner at six, you buy lunch elsewhere.”
“I find my own food,” said Jesus with a slight smile, “But my parents will be happy to know hot meals are available.”
“Suit yourself,” said the innkeeper as Jesus handed him money. He pointed to their transportation and added, “You’ll have to stable your horses and wagon across the street.”
“No problem, incidentally sir, can they give the horses a comb and feed?”
“Sure, it’s five sestertii per horse.”
“Thank you,” said Jesus, returning to the wagon. “I’ve rented rooms, numbers sixteen and seventeen,” he announced to the weary group. Handing his consort the keys, he climbed in the seat and added, “Mary, please take mother and father to their room; I’ll unload the wagon.”
“I’ll carry Joseph’s satchel and tools,” the Magdalene replied, lifting them from the rear with ease and closing the door, Joseph watching in amazement.
“By all means, thanks,” said Jesus, taking the reins and driving the wagon to the stable.
“Ten sestertii to park for a day, take the rig to stall six,” the stable manager barked as Jesus entered.
“I’m staying for two; I want the horses fed and groomed too.”
“That’ll cost you twenty-five.”
Jesus pulled coins from a leather pouch tied at his waist, handing him twenty-five orichalcum sestertii coins, obverses bearing the likeness of Tiberius, reverses bearing fasces and the abbreviation ‘SC’. Nodding to the manager, he moved the carriage to a stall marked with the Roman numerals VI. Stepping down, he called a stable hand.
“Unhitch these beasts, comb and feed them,” Jesus ordered a muscular, bronzed Syrian slave.
“Yes sir,” answered the slave, tending the tired horses.
“These are fine animals sir, swift Arabian geldings,” the slave observed, inspecting the horses.
“Yes,” said Jesus, opening a wagon door, “We’ve owned them for the past few months, a trader in northern Judea sold them to me.” Ignoring the sack of worthless clothes, he lifted out his bag of treasure, now weighing 220 pounds, while the slave watered and began to comb down the horses. Walking across the street, Jesus entered a dark alleyway. A lone figure approached, directly in his path.
“What’s in the bag man?” asked the figure, clearly a common criminal.
“None of your goddamned business,” Jesus spat, the man blocking his path.
“Wrong answer,” the man retorted, pulling a dagger.
“Don’t play with me asshole,” said Jesus in his vampire voice.
“Give me the bag.”
Narrowing his eyes in contempt, Jesus waited for him to make his move. It didn’t take long, the man lunging at him with the dagger seconds later. Dropping the bag, the vampiric Christ grabbed his assailant’s arm with his left and held it, breaking his neck with his right. The robber went limp, his dagger falling to the ground. Heaving the fresh corpse over a shoulder, he lifted the bag with his free arm. Kicking the dagger to the gutter, he headed to his room, depositing the bag and body beneath the bed. He entered the adjacent room where his parents and consort were relaxing and announced, “Please come to our room Mary, I have a present for you.”
“Oh goody,” said the Magdalene, “I’ve always liked presents.”
Jesus turned to his parents. “Please be certain to lock the door father; this is not the best of neighborhoods.”
Joseph nodded, barring the door as they left. Returning to their pitch-black room, Jesus opened the door and entered.
“Where’s my present?” asked Mary.
“Under the bed.”
Looking beneath the bed, she pulled the cadaver out by a limp, pale arm and exclaimed, “My supper, why thank you Jesus!” Noticing the lack of bite marks on the neck, she asked, “Didn’t you have some?”
“No, please remember dear Mary, vampires do not live by blood alone. Besides, you were right, there are plenty of meals available here.”
“Who was he?”
“A robber who wanted my bag, so I broke his neck. Enjoy your supper, I’m heading out to find another,” said Jesus, leaving and closing the door behind him.
Strolling down the alley, he passed by the inn’s registration office and headed to the main street. Seeing a drunken whore weaving down the sidewalk with one of her patrons, Jesus recalled his ill-fated ministry and silently observed, This world is indeed a terrible place – my simplistic view of this forsaken mess was really skewed. Dismissing the bitter thought, he continued past, heading for the heart of the city.
His hunt did not take long, for within minutes yet another thief appeared from a side street, brandishing a dagger. Walking up, he growled in Aramaic, “Give me your money or I’ll kill you!”
“I seriously doubt that, and I don’t have any money with me friend,” said Jesus in his native tongue.
“I don’t have friends!” retorted the thief.
“Your statement strikes me as obvious.”
“What?”
“Never mind, forget that I said it,” Jesus answered, annoyed at the thief’s stupidity.
“Give me your jewels,” the thief ordered, waving his dagger.
“I don’t have any of those on me either.”
“What are you, a bum?”
“No,” Jesus replied, thoroughly bored with the situation.
“What are you then?”
“A vampire, looking for someone exactly like you,” said Jesus, freezing his assailant where he stood. Saying nothing further, he plunged fangs in the throat, draining his life from him. Remembering that he should clean up leftover messes to avoid problems, Jesus retrieved the dagger, placing it in his cloak. Lifting the body from the street, he heaved it over a shoulder, looking about for a place to dump it. He spied a public lavatorium, made his way over, and entered. Making certain it was deserted, he checked the corpse for valuables. Tearing off the victim’s tunic pockets in search of the smallest coin, Jesus found nothing. Annoyed by the lack of a payoff, he hurled the body down a latrine shaft, where it landed in the sewer with a loud splash.
“I wonder if he’ll clog the sewer, not that I care,” said a chuckling Jesus, smiling as he left.
Returning to their room, Mary was on the bed relaxing, the emptied corpse on its side at her feet. “They go stale fast, not that it was bad or anything,” she observed, Jesus sitting down on the bed with her.
“Yeah, what can you do,” Jesus replied, “Guess what, I’ve found a really good place to dump bodies.”
“Where?”
“Public lavatoriums, I dropped mine down the shaft of a latrine, the sewer will carry them away.”
“Just like shit, what a great idea! I’ve always said you were a genius, would you like to get rid of this one?”
“Why not, want to come along?”
“Sure,” said the Magdalene, “I love the night.”
They headed to another lavatorium, the second cadaver over Jesus’ shoulder. He propped the corpse up on a commode seat, intent on checking the body for money. A disgusted Mary interjected, “I checked him, he didn’t have as much as a shekel.”
“Figures,” said Jesus, stopping his search, “The other robber had nothing either, the thieves in this city must be poor, stupid or perhaps both.”
“This one certainly was,” she agreed, as Jesus dumped the body headfirst into the latrine.
“Lavatoriums will come in handy in the future,” said Jesus, “It’s too bad they’re not around everywhere.”
“That’s the truth,” Mary replied, looking into the latrine and watching the floating corpse disappear headfirst into the sewer pipe.
Heading to their room, Jesus related the events he observed while hunting for his nourishment. Unlike his new self and atavistically like his old, he was bitterly complaining of the decadence of Antioch, whores and robbers plying the streets like so many flies, concluding that the thief he had killed had mistook him for a bum.
“So what, the entire world’s decadent and there’s nothing we can do about it, so why let it bother you?”
“It doesn’t really anymore,” Jesus answered, not being completely truthful, “I was just making conversation.”
“But you are bothered that a common thief mistook you for a beggar,” Mary countered, with keen insight into his personality.
“Perhaps.”
“You know, if you cut your hair and trim that long beard, maybe people wouldn’t think you were an indigent,” she suggested as diplomatically as possible.
“You think so?”
“When in Rome, one does as Romans do.”
“We’re not in Rome woman.”
“We may as well be,” said Mary, “Antioch’s the capital of this part of the empire and most men here don’t look as unkempt. If you paid some attention to your appearance you might blend in a bit.”
“Really?” asked Jesus, thinking he hadn’t gone to that much trouble while traveling when younger, not recalling the sheltering care his hosts had lavished on him. As a philosopher of some fame, it hadn’t mattered as to his appearance; most figuring he was simply eccentric.
“We can give it a try if you like, I have a brush and shears.”
“Why not,” said Jesus as they entered their room.
Over the next hour, Mary gave Jesus a makeover, cutting off his long hair and trimming his beard, changing his appearance so dramatically that it was hard to for his consort to recognize him.
Observing his reflection in her polished bronze mirror, Jesus declared that he indeed looked better, venturing that it might be appropriate if he were clean-shaven like the Romans were.
“I’m afraid I don’t have a razor or even a strop for one; we could probably pick one up from a barbershop,” said Mary.
“I definitely want to,” agreed a smiling Jesus, looking in the mirror like a budding narcissist, “Thank you very much, you’ve made me look a lot better.”
The Magdalene smiled back. “At the brothel the pimps and whores always let me cut their hair, some said I should have opened a salon,” she not revealing she had been saving money to do so before meeting him in Magdala, as a whore can last only so long.
“You’d have made a lot of money,” Jesus replied.
At the tender age of 24, Mary Magdalene had saved nearly 100 denarii from her honest work of cutting hair for the local pimps and whores, and was on the verge of opening a salon until Jesus Christ came along. After meeting him, she had used the money to buy fish and bread for a multitude attending the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus having thanked her for helping him perform the miracle.
“We’d best cover the window,” said Jesus, glancing to an open window near the ceiling, noticing the sky starting to lighten. Walking to the opening, he added, “It’s facing east, all we’d need is to be fried by the sun while we sleep.”
“Close the shutters, I closed them for your folks in their room to deter bandits.”
“Good idea,” Jesus replied, closing and locking the shutters.
Tired, they moved to their bed for a good day’s sleep.
* * *
The following evening, it was Joseph who was knocking on Jesus’ door, as the couple had overslept, thoroughly enjoying their comfortable quarters. Waking about an hour after dark to the noise, a groggy Jesus rose, rubbing his eyes and making his way to the door in the darkness. Unbarring and opening the door, his father, holding a shielded candle, was taken back for a moment.
“I’m sorry sir, I have the wrong room; I was looking for my son.”
“It is I father,” Jesus announced with a yawn.
“What happened, you almost look like a Roman!”
“Please come in and I’ll tell you,” said Jesus, again yawning.
“Would you light a lamp please, I can’t see that well in the dark.”
Taking his father’s candle, he lit an oil lamp as the Magdalene was rising from slumber. “Good evening Joseph,” she said with a tired smile, sitting up as he entered the room and closed the door.
Joseph nodded to her, again asking, “So son, what happened to your hair?”
“Mary gave me a haircut and trimmed my beard, what do you think?”
“It’s about time,” said Joseph, “You looked strange with all that hair flying about, it’s no damn wonder you had so much trouble in Jerusalem. If you remember I tried to tell you that you know.”
“Yes father.”
“A robber mistook him for a beggar last night,” said Mary.
“That doesn’t surprise me, he certainly looked like one,” Joseph retorted, looking to Jesus and asking, “I imagine you made him pay for that?”
“Well, he was trying to rob me.”
“I don’t blame you, in fact, you’re probably saving a lot of other decent folk from being robbed or even killed by feeding on such people.”
“I hadn’t looked at it that way,” said Jesus, raising an eyebrow.
“See, it all depends on your point of view,” Joseph replied, “From what I’ve seen, the pair of you are simply disposing of people who aren’t any good anyway, so as far as I’m concerned, keep up the good work.”
“Thanks dad,” said Jesus, shocked by his father’s pronouncements.
“Yeah, as to the reason I came by, your mother and I just had dinner and were wondering if you’d like to join us for wine and perhaps a game of latrunculi, that is after you have had your uh, meals,” Joseph offered, inviting the pair to join them.
“You have the board?” asked Jesus, a skilled player of the game.
“Of course, it’s almost a hundred years old, it belonged to my grandfather and I still have all the ivory pieces too.”
“I’d like that very much; what do you think Mary?”
“Why not, there isn’t much to do here anyway, except feed on criminals.”
“We should be by in about an hour dad.”
“We’ll be expecting you,” said Joseph, returning to his room.
“Dad’s really warming up to us being vampires,” Jesus observed with a smile.
“I like your folks, and your father’s a wise man,” said Mary, moving from the bed.
“That’s true, but in the past I never realized how wise.”
“You were too busy telling others how to live, so how could you notice? Not that what you said was bad or anything, but you never had time for anyone else’s opinions.”
“I don’t think my suggestions were that far off, if people followed them the world would be a much better place to live.”
“I won’t fault you there, you did have some damn good ideas,” said Mary, brushing her hair, “But you forgot most people are egotists who couldn’t care less about their own families, let alone their fellow man.”
“I wouldn’t have agreed in the past, but I think that’s the truth now. I was wasting my time preaching to them, and many folks didn’t like what I had to say anyway.”
“People everywhere, especially the rich and powerful, never like hearing the truth about themselves, and you constantly pointed out, rather bluntly I might add, that they were hypocrites. As a consequence, they hated you, and finally killed you for that.”
“Yes,” said Jesus, “I recall you arguing with me heatedly, stating I was wasting my time and just pissing them off. I didn’t agree with you then, but I now believe you were right.”
“Don’t worry dear Jesus, we’re all wrong sometimes,” a smiling Mary replied, taking his hand as they left their room.
They stepped into the night in search of prey. It didn’t take long, for as usual the garbage of humanity appeared, bent on robbery or rape, and were quickly disposed of by undead custodians Jesus and Mary. Shortly thereafter, two corpses coursed their way through the dank sewers of Antioch, and the couple made their way through the cool night to his parent’s room.
“Come in,” said Joseph, answering the door. They entered, and he added casually, “You both look well – who did you kill off tonight?”
“A pair of robbers,” Jesus answered, looking to his mother.
“You look very nice with your new haircut Jesus, and hello Mary,” said his mother. Surprisingly, she didn’t appear shocked or even faint from hearing his candid admissions of murder. At a loss for words, Jesus looked to his father.
“I explained it all to her today,” said Joseph.
“What exactly did you explain?”
“I said you make a point to take only those who cross you, and that I think it’s very commendable.”
“I do most times, but I must tell you mother, Mary isn’t as selective as I when it comes to that. Fortunately, as her master, I – ”
“Jesus!” the Magdalene exclaimed, embarrassed at the revelation.
“So what, shit happens,” said Joseph, his wife looking to the floor and shrugging. “Have a seat son, I’ve set up the board, would you both like wine?”
“Please,” Jesus replied, and took a seat.
Filling glasses, Joseph handed his guests strong Syrian wine, guaranteed to make even the most seasoned drinker happy in a short time.
After several intense games of latrunculi, Joseph gave up. He threw up his hands and exclaimed, “That’s the fourth time you’ve trapped my eagle. I can never beat you at this damned game!”
“I’m sorry father, I used to play a lot with my friend John, he was an expert and the only disciple who could beat me.”
“I have a few tricks left, but I have to head to the lavatorium first,” a drunken Joseph replied.
“They don’t have slop jars in the rooms; I need to go too,” Jesus observed, he also inebriated.
“You still do that?” asked Joseph, raising eyebrows in surprise as they headed out.
“Of course, but only liquids, I haven’t done the other since before I died.”
“Incredible, but I suppose all that blood and wine have to go somewhere,” Joseph replied, walking into the dimly lamp lit lavatorium.
“Guess what father, we’re using a lavatorium down the street to dump bodies,” said Jesus while answering nature’s call.
“You are?” Joseph asked, not caring in the least as to where the leftover corpses went for disposal, as long as they were not found.
“Yes, the sewers carry them away, preventing any possibility of discovery.”
“Like so many turds.”
“Mary said the same thing.”
“You know son, it’s strange to think I may be pissing on someone’s head as he floats by.”
Jesus burst into laughter, falling to the floor in drunken pleasure.
Joseph, laughing, walked over and asked, “Can I help you up?”
“Thanks dad,” said a still laughing Jesus, taking his father’s arm and rising unsteadily to his feet. The drunken pair made their way back to the room, weaving as they went.
They played latrunculi and drank wine until the wee hours of the morning, with Joseph winning two games between trips to the lavatorium, the drunken Christ starting to make colossal mistakes in strategy. Mary and his mother quietly conversed, discussing housekeeping and fashions of clothing, at times gently complaining about their men as well. As the sky lightened, Joseph retired to bed with his wife, Mary helping Jesus to their room, where he collapsed unconscious, face down, on the bed. She joined him after barring the door, settling into sleep next to her snoring partner, having enjoyed the delightful evening.
* * *
“My aching head!” moaned Joseph as he woke at dusk, still drunk, afflicted with a severe, pounding hangover.
“Are you all right Joseph?” asked Mary, knowing the answer.
“No, Syrians brew a mean wine,” Joseph answered in throbbing pain.
His wife had risen earlier, cleaning up from the night’s revelry. Joseph sat up in the bed, holding his head in his hands.
“Give me some wine will you?” he asked with a cough, making his head pound even more.
“Yes dear, this should help,” said Mary, handing him a filled glass while he sat on the edge of the bed.
A seemingly loud knock came on the door, Joseph calling in agony, “Who is it?”
“Jesus.”
“Open the door Mary.”
She opened the door and the couple entered, Jesus carrying his sack of loot over a shoulder.
“It’s almost check out time dad, are you ready to go?” asked Jesus while his mother closed the door.
“Oh God,” Joseph groaned, “What’s the hurry, we don’t really have anyplace to go do we?”
“Are you sick?” the Magdalene asked, looking in his direction.
“I have a hell of a hangover,” Joseph moaned, finishing his wine. He looked to his placid vampiric son, focused and asked, “Aren’t you hungover too?”
“I’ve never felt better in my uh, life,” said Jesus, “That’s strange, in the past when I got drunk I always felt terrible the morning after.”
“Must have something to do with being a vampire,” Joseph replied, falling to the mattress with another groan.
“Probably,” said the Magdalene, looking to Jesus.
“I could fix it for you father, by bringing you to our realm.”
“No, I’ll manage, but thank you anyway. I wouldn’t make a very good vampire, life’s bad enough without that.”
Jesus looked to his father impassively.
“I don’t think your father and I should travel tonight,” said his mother, frowning at her husband.
“You’re right mother, I’ll rent the rooms for another night and we’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Thanks son,” Joseph moaned from his bed as they left.
They returned to their room, Jesus sliding his treasure-laden sack under the bed.
Reaching for a tan robe to wear over his tunic, Jesus advised, “It’s cool tonight woman. I think we should start wearing cloaks and the like when we’re about.”
“But I don’t feel cold at all,” said Mary, surprised that she had not noticed the change in weather.
“Neither am I, but it will look strange if we walk around without warm garments in wintertime, this way we’ll fit in better.”
“You learn fast,” said a smiling Mary.
Putting on the robe, Jesus replied, “I’m heading to the office to pay the rent. I’ll be back shortly, then we’ll go out for dinner.”
“Don’t be long,” said Mary as he passed through the threshold.
Jesus walked to the manager’s office, renting the rooms for another night. Crossing the street, he handed 13 sestertii to the stable manager, telling him to keep the change. During the exchanges, both men complimented his new hairstyle, the stable manager suggesting that he shave his beard to complete the transformation. Jesus acknowledged the suggestions politely and made his way to his room, troubled about his parents, especially his father.
“That’s the second time I offered to make dad a vampire and he’s turned me down on both occasions,” said Jesus, sitting down in a chair.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to be one,” the Magdalene replied, “I imagine some folks aren’t cut out for this kind of life, you know, killing people most every night, and sucking their blood and all.”
“That’s probably true, but he’s an older man, which means he will pass soon.”
“You love your parents don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” said Jesus, looking to the floor.
“Well, you’ll simply have to accept the fact that they’ll be gone one day, as will all who we have known. Both of my parents are dead and I miss them, but they’re gone forever, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“But I can do something about it,” said Jesus, looking to her.
“You haven’t changed one bit; you still think you have all the answers, and believe only your way is best.”
“I do?”
“Yes, it bothers you a great deal that your parents are content being mortal, and don’t seem to mind the fact that they will die.”
Jesus sat a moment, contemplating. “But I could save them from that.”
“You see? You haven’t changed at all, and remember you once thought you could save everybody.”
“No I – ”
The Magdalene pointed at him in emphasis. “That’s bullshit, you still don’t realize some folks don’t want, or even need to be saved.”
“They don’t?”
“Not at all, your parents are content with what they are, and they’re happy, so let it go.”
“But – ”
“No buts, one day you’ll realize that you can’t save the world, especially when it doesn’t even want to be saved,” she added, reflecting on the bitter truth of her statement.
Jesus sat silently, knowing in his heart that regarding such matters, as usual, Mary Magdalene was correct. Later, they headed into the dark night, dressed appropriately for the season, on the hunt for their version of the evening meal. Strolling along, they observed that Antioch was truly a decadent town, walking past packed brothels, accosted with offers by depraved members of both sexes. Ignoring the solicitations, they continued to the heart of the city, knowing they would soon run across suitable victims.
“Antioch’s worse than Sodom or Gomorrah ever was,” Jesus observed, making their way past a barbershop.
“Who cares, let’s buy you a razor,” said Mary, turning and heading for the establishment with Jesus following. They entered near closing time. The Roman owner was cleaning his instruments in a basin, and the Magdalene asked in fluent Latin, “Excuse me sir, do you have razors available for purchase?”
“Certainly,” the barber answered, drying his hands, “Two denarii for a bronze razor, three for a steel one; do you need a strop for it?”
“Yes,” answered Jesus.
“Ten sestertii for the strop, so what’ll it be sir?”
“Buy a steel one,” the Magdalene advised, “You don’t need to sharpen them as often.”
“The lady’s right sir,” said the barber, reaching for a gleaming steel example of a folding straight razor, “I exclusively use and recommend steel razors for my customers, made by Egyptian blacksmiths.”
“Yes, this is satisfactory,” Jesus replied, inspecting the razor, “We’ll take the strop too.”
“Three denarii, twenty sestertii,” the barber declared, wrapping the razor and strop in a cloth.
“Here’s five denarii, would you have a pouch for it?” asked Jesus, handing him money.
“Sure, but it’s only 5 sestertii,” the barber answered, looking at the coins in his palm.
“Keep the change for your trouble,” said Jesus as the barber handed him a leather pouch.
“Thank you sir,” the barber replied, Jesus placing his purchase in a robe pocket, and starting with the Magdalene toward the door.<