Read Online The Thirteenth Apostle by Michel Benoit - Free Book Online

the Eleven had taken refuge in a panic-stricken flock. Jesus had been delivered to Pilate, crucified at noon the day before… It was a catastrophe beyond their worst imaginings.
    He finally made up his mind to move and slowly climbed the steps leading to the first storey, where he pushed open thedoor through which he had watched Judas exit on Thursday evening. A single small light was burning in the huge room. He made out shadows sitting here and there on the floor. Nobody was speaking. These terrorized Galileans, forced into hiding – so this was all that remained of the Israel of the new age.
    A shadow detached itself from the wall and came over to him.
    â€œWell?”
    Peter stared arrogantly at him.
    â€œHe will never accept that we’ve failed,” he thought to himself. “He will never accept having to be in my debt by taking refuge at my home like this, just as he never accepted my privileged relationship with Jesus.”
    â€œWell, Pilate authorized Jesus’s body to be taken down from the cross yesterday evening. As it was too late to give him the ritual treatment, he was placed provisionally in a nearby tomb, which happens to belong to Joseph of Arimathea, a sympathizer.”
    â€œWho transported the body?”
    â€œNicodemus carried the head and Joseph the feet. And some women, acting as mourners – the usual ones, we know them well: Mary of Magdala and her friends.”
    Peter bit his lower lip and punched the palm of his left hand.
    â€œHow shameful! What a… a humiliation! The final homage is always paid to a dead man by the members of his family! Neither Mary, nor his brother James were there… just sympathizers! The Master really died like a dog.”
    The Judaean gazed at him ironically.
    â€œIs it the fault of Mary his mother, of James and his three other brothers, or his sisters, that the preparations for your insurrection were carried out in the greatest secrecy? Is it theirfault that everything went wrong, in just a few hours, in such a tragic and unexpected way? Is it their fault that Caiaphas lied, that Jesus was taken before Pilate yesterday morning? That he was crucified without further ado, without any trial? Whose fault is it?”
    Peter bowed his head. It was he who had teamed up with his old Zealot friends, it was he who had convinced Judas to do the dirty work, it was he who was ultimately responsible for everything. He knew as much, but he could not acknowledge it. Not in front of this man, this usurper, who continued his tirade.
    â€œWhere were you when they laid Jesus on the beam of wood, when they hammered the nails into his wrists? Yesterday at midday, I was there, hiding in the crowd. I heard the horrible noise of the hammer blows, I saw the blood and the water flowing from his side when the legionary finished him off with a thrust of his spear. I am the only one here who can testify that Jesus the Nazorean died like a man, without complaining, without uttering a word of reproach to us, even though we had allowed him to fall into this trap. Where were you all?”
    Peter did not reply. The treachery of Caiaphas, Jesus delivered to the Romans, all these unexpected events had rendered their preparations for the insurrection futile. Like the others, at the very moment the Master was dying in agony, he had been hiding somewhere in the Lower City. As far away as possible from the Roman legionaries, as far away as possible from the western gate of Jerusalem and its crosses. Yes, this man alone had been present, he was the only one to have seen ; he alone would now be able to testify to the death of Jesus, to his courage and his dignity. From now on he would be able to milk this fact for all it was worth, to strut and boast every hour of the day – the impostor!
    He needed to seize back the initiative. He was the leader here. He drew the other man over to the window.
    â€œCome. We need to talk.”
    Peter gazed out into the night for