33 A.D
Jerusalem
The old Jew rushed through the maze of streets that wasYerushaláyim(Jerusalem).Christian guards patrolled the dirt pathways,but the years spent in the city had given him knowledge on how to avoid them.A young,able bodied Jew stood no chance against the patrol,nevermind an emaciated old man who was probably only a few summers away from leaving this hell he had been born into.His bare feet made little noise as he turned corners and ducked behind walls at a pace that even he was surprised by.He ran past his own house and instead stopped at the house of Ismael,his cherished friend.He began to bang on the door with a weathered hand.
 “Ismael!Open up!Ismael!!”
Ismael did not come.The jew pulled away with a curse.If Ismael was not at home,then he was in all probability at the Synagouge.Turning on his heels,his tattered robe flapping around his ankles,he raced around the house and up a flight of stairs.The Synagouge buzzed with the sound of people talking.The Jew raced under the arch at the entrance of the temple .Spent,he doubled over,wheezing.
Synagouges in Yerushaláyim ranged from large,beautifully decorated structures meant for the upper classes to small,plain rooms.This particular Synagouge was probably the smallest in all of Yerushaláyim. The Arch at the entrance had no carvings .The interior consisted of a long room with a pulpit at the end. The Ark,a cabinet holding the scrolls of prayer stood beside the pulpit.The pulpit stood empty for now.Ismael was to step up and deliver the sermon.The Jew spotted him talking to two other men,possibly older than himself.He straightened up and walked towards the men.
“Ismael.”
His friend turned to face him.A smile stretched across his face and his arms spread in welcome.
“Immanuel!Welcome!How-“
Immanuel waved his arms about impatiently,cutting his friend off.
“I must speak with you!Now!”
Ismael’s smile faded.He took his friends arm and gently led him away from the crowd.Satisfied that they were out of earshot,he leaned towards Immanuel.
“What is the matter?What could cause you to be so upset?”
Immanuel glanced around him before answering.
“They say he is dead.” His voice quavered. “How could he die , Ismael?!If he was our saviour,how could he die?!”
Ismael sighed.
“He is dead, Immanuel.It is true.I myself witnessed his execution.”
Immanuel was shocked by the calm manner in which his friend had just admitted to the death of the saviour.
“Was he not the son of god?”
“He was.”
“Then how could he DIE?!!”
Ismael noted the people inching towards them,trying to find out why the old Jew now had tears flowing down his face.He couldn’t afford for them to think the way his friend was.He had managed to isolate them,hide news of the execution.He had managed to retain their faith.And he could not let them lose their way now.
“Immanuel!” He said sharply.”Calm yourself!”
Immanuel no longer cared.He had just lost his last hope.He sank to the ground,weeping.
Joshua,a peasant inched closer.
“Is everything alright?” He asked cautiously.
Ismael nodded curtly.He bent down to his weeping friend and pulled him up gently.
“It will be fine,Immanuel.” He said,soothingly.”Come,my home is not far.We will discuss matters there.”
Immanuel nodded, his sobs stilling as he set off behind his childhood friend.                                                              *
“He was not the son of god.It was a lie.” Immanuel lay on Ismael’s bed.
His friend sat at on a chair beside the bed.
“Immanuel!!You must not say these things lest people hear you!Can you imagine what would happen then?!!”
“We cannot keep this from them!I will not have them believe a lie, Ismael!”
Ismael stood angrily.
“They must believe!If nothing else,let them hold onto this belief!It keeps them going!!”
Immanuel rose.
“No.They must be informed.If you refuse , then I shall do it myself.”
He made for the door.
Ismael moved to block his path.
“No.” He said quietly.
“You will not.”
Immanuel shoved him aside angrily.
“You will have to kill me then,Ismael. Can you do that?In the name of your god,will you stop me?”
Ismael stared at his friend.They had passed many a summer together,running through the city streets stealing bread and wine for their families and ambushing soldiers on their nightly patrols for their weapons and clothes and tending to each other’s injuries.They were friends,as good as any two people ever to form a bond.
Ismael looked into his friend’s weary eyes.
He picked up a knife.
And so died Immanuel,non-believer at the hands of one who claimed to operate in the name of his god.He was not the first,and most definitely not the last.