Wulf in the Holy Land
CHAPTER ONE
Wulf in the Holy Land
Wulf stood in his armor, feeling the heat of the blazing sun of Jerusalem baking him in his plate-mail suit. Signing on to the Roman army, he had not anticipated the discomfort associated with being a part of the almighty Romans. He thought back across the past few years…
The Roman army had attacked his native land, and seemed invincible. Marching in formation, their short swords outthrust- they were unstoppable. They moved as one, in a unit, whereas his own Germanic tribesmen acted individually, fighting more as one person against others- as free men defending what was their own.
Although the Germanic tribes were, man-to-man, far more formidable than the Roman troops; still, the discipline of the Romans, where each man fought in total concert with his fellow soldiers, ultimately triumphed.
Wulf had been non-plussed to learn that even these stunted weaklings, which is how he viewed the smaller, dark-haired and small-boned Romans, could nevertheless prevail over the proven warriors of his own people!
The secret was in their discipline, wherein each man was required to act in concert with the others in his cohort- in other words, there was none of the self autonomy that was so important in Wulf’s Allemani tribe. These Romans had learned to stifle their individuality.
The Romans were like automatons- robotic servants that duplicated the orders of the “rulers”. This was so alien to Wulf’s world view as to be almost incomprehensible- but, in true barbarian fashion, he adapted almost immediately- turning his blazing blue eyes upon those Roman outlanders, as he still thought of them. He would follow them, at least until he got what he wanted. He signed on, to learn what he could from these Romans…
“We own this land! The People of Rome rule those of Jerusalem, and those of many far-flung regions!” Wulf looked out from under his bronze helm, his blue eyes blazing angrily out at the many brown eyes looking back, all with head-scarves of one sort or another.
“I am not of Rome!” he again shouted. The myriads of brownish folk looked at him as if to say “We know!” Wulf’s reddish mane and blue eyes were a dead giveaway.
“But- although I am not of the hated Romans, you must listen to me: the Romans are determined on domination! At all costs, you will be under their domination! This, you need to know.” His gaze swept over the crowd before him, sweating and dispirited Jews all, looking back at him malevolently, as an occupier. He shook his head lionlike, his reddish-gold mane swept back from his scarred face.
“I have been where you are now. From the far north, the Romans beat us back, again and again! Now, I have joined them, since they have conquered this earth- but I am not of their mind! Neither must you be- live your lives, under their rule, just as I have done. Pay their cursed taxes, and you will be left alone. Do not resist, either the true Romans- or ME!” And with this last pronouncement, Wulf brandished his bright sword above his head, his defined musculature standing out in bold, threatening relief.
Gesturing to his Century, they moved all as one to instant attention, marching off in perfect order. Exact Roman discipline, although the soldiers were of every nation and race of the earth. All was Roman now, thought Wulf, with no great satisfaction, although he it was that had trained these men into such impressive cohesiveness and discipline.
His men quartered, Wulf headed to the town center. Rather than by Herod’s Palace, which centered in the Upper City of the Elite, he headed towards the Lower City, as it was called, of the poor. He wanted none of fine wines, and the witty repartee of Jewish Pharisees and the upper level Roman officers and officials. He wanted to guzzle honest ale with soldiers and citizens, to wash what was supposedly “proper” out of his mind.
There was a tavern he knew, the Minotaur- he headed there. “Ho, Thespius!” he shouted as he entered. The proprietor, a portly man with a blue-black beard and beady eyes, rushed forth, rubbing his hands on his apron.
“Oh, Centurion Wulf- what can I get you? Ale?” He knew what Wulf would desire from long acquaintance, and he gestured to his serving wench, who came carrying a huge flagon with alacrity. “What else, my centurion, do you require?”
A huge plate of roasted beef was brought forth upon Wulf’s next request, and he began devouring it as soon as it appeared. Thespius knew his patron’s habits, and he had signaled his girls to begin preparations as soon as he had spotted the huge Centurion. He stood smiling in front of the Germanic barbarian, since he always paid very well with his Roman coins.
A man ran in the doorway at this moment, richly dressed. Obviously of the Jewish elite, he was stout, and had a small, greasy dark beard upon his chin. He looked about, and his eyes locked on that of the Centurion. “Sir, there is an altercation at the Jewish Temple! You Romans will have to intervene- a young upstart is causing trouble- the Roman Law is being challenged!”
Reluctantly, Wulf stood. He quaffed the rest of his flagon, knowing he must respond. These patrician Jews bothered him as much as the upper class Romans did- everything was about title and rank: nothing like his native tribe where it was all about individual ability and self worth! But still, he had signed on as a quasi-Roman…
Walking along towards the temple, he noticed an uproar ahead. Normally a placid, although somewhat squalid spot; since the moneychangers had taken control of what was supposed to be a religious place- now, there was shouting, and loud protestations issuing forth- Wulf ran inside, assuming a jog upon hearing the noise.
Inside, it was anything but a solemn, holy place.
Men were selling donkeys, and every other animal, including the forbidden pigs of the Hebrew faith. Supposedly religious figures were actively requesting that money be spent to buy not only donkeys, but women and slaves as well. What was supposed to be a holy place had become a marketplace of vice!
Even murderers were advertising their services, along with every other dark means of gaining money. To Wulf’s pristine, northern eyes, it was a snake pit. And he was not alone, for looming overall was a tall figure with golden-brown hair, who was haranguing the moneychangers and priests. As Wulf watched, he overturned a huge table of currency, tumbling it to the ground. A lean man, he was nevertheless commanding, and his voice rang out overall. “My Father’s house is meant to be a place of prayer, but you have turned it to a den of thieves!” And as he spoke, he drew a whip, and attacked those same moneychangers and the other vendors of evil.
And so, thought Wulf, ‘This is who I have been summoned to stop?’
Laughing to himself, reckless as always, he instantly knew whose side he was meant to be on. This was not the Roman Law he had been hired to uphold- this was religion gone corrupt.
Following the lead of the lean man of the golden-brown hair, he grasped a huge table, loaded with gleaming coins and thick cuts of pork, and heaved it over his head, before smashing it to the tiles of the floor. This man he was assisting, who he later learned was called Jesus, looked at him with the most beatific smile Wulf had ever seen, and even held his thumb upraised in approbation.
And then, the two of them were bent on total destruction! They smashed that temple from end to end, and sent all of those commercial idols to perdition. The money was spilled; so also were figures of snakes and demons- false gods and evil idols of malevolence that had penetrated this holy place!
When they were done, the man named Jesus came to Wulf, as he stood with his chest heaving from exertion, speaking to him with a wide smile on his handsome face. “You have helped me on my way. My Father and I shall not forget- you are blessed.” And there was something unearthly about his gaze, when he looked at Wulf- he felt as if he were already in Woden’s Valhalla. He couldn’t describe it, but he knew that he had seen something beyond his tribe, beyond the Romans- something - well, something that changed everything! He knew only that he wanted, nay needed to help this man.
CHAPTER TWO
