The Rebirth of Pan | Page 3

to ignore them. The Romans dice for His robe. One of them has a brutal face, and a spear. He has His exchange with the thieves, and then they are taken down and walk away. That doesn't matter.
I watch Him, silhouetted against the blue sky, and try to concentrate on his suffering. When I fear I may lose focus, I look at the crowd. The locals are still for the most part now, but the tourists still mill about. The crowd is silent for the words and prayers but mutters restlessly the rest of the time.
I notice the woman with the white dress and the gold cross again. She catches my eye because she is still among these other fidgeting people. She has a pleasant face. I don't think she's Italian, her hair is too light a brown and she shows too much skin. I notice only now that she is pregnant. I probably didn't take it in before because half the women I know are pregnant, hoping. I've become accustomed to it. But maybe her baby will be the new All Holy. I'd like that. She has a big mouth and she looks relaxed, as if she laughs a lot. She is sad and serious now, looking towards Him. Somehow I can tell she is a Catholic--maybe it is the style of her cross. I am too far away from her now to see it clearly now, but I remember it, gold against her tanned skin. I can tell she is a true believer. She cares. She will do to stand for the three Marys who should be here, much better than the actors. She has a man with her. He holds the same guidebook I have, in French. Somehow I do not think they are French, though. She might be, but not him. He has dark towsled hair falling into his eyes, and a wide grin. He puts his hand on the woman's arm. Unlike her, he doesn't have the look of a Christian. He might almost be one of us. I look away, back to the cross.
More prayers. Vinegar. More suffering. A convincing plea to have the cup taken from Him. Well might He waver, but I am inexorable. What about the sins of the whole world? I almost laugh, thinking this, for my role here is that of Fate, of God. To think I doubted whether I was worthy, when I was chosen, whether one of the others might be better. This is what I am for, this is the focus not only of these past months of preparation but of my whole life. More prayers. No hesitation. The television cameras are still rolling. I'm sure they've recorded me, sitting here. It doesn't matter. I'm not expecting to survive this, one way or another.
Now. I raise the camera. "Lord, into thy hands, I commend my spirit." I am ready. I focus, my finger on the trigger. This is the time and the place we reasoned it would be best to do it. The Son of Man is in my sights. I can already picture how the bullets will tear into his chest, spraying blood. Everything is balanced on this moment. The new age starts here. I move my finger--but nothing happens. It doesn't respond. What the hell? I try to move, to stand, but I can't! I'm paralysed. Completely paralysed, frozen in place. God? You bastard! Where did You get that power from? You shouldn't be able to do this! It doesn't make sense! It's not fair! You'll pay for it! I hate You! I'm here to kill You and I shall.
"Wait." The voice in my head is male, a gentle baritone, with a soft Irish accent. I don't believe this. I should be panicking, but I can't move.
"Who are you, you bastard, let me go!" I'm only half expecting heavenly trumpets, now.
"My name is my word." I knew it wasn't any god really. Only a man with magic would say that, a god wouldn't mind being bound by their name, their names are part of what they Are. I don't know much about magic. I try to run through everything I've heard about it quickly. The power it must take to hold me like this! He surely can't keep it up for long. But how did he know the need?
"Let me go!"
"I can't. You're going to kill him." He sounds so reasonable. He must be a fanatic.
"You can't keep Christianity alive by stopping me!" He can't hold me for long, not against my will. Or at least, I don't think so. This is the first time I've ever felt real magic in the realised world. It is strange.
"Keeping Christianity alive is the last thing on my mind, believe me." The voice chuckles in my head.
"Then