Chapter 15: Goodbye to Ravanna

               
5th Gospel--Told by Jesus' Beloved Apostle

               
A Novel by Richard Jewell

---

Book I: Early Years
Part Three–Adventurer
                                      

Jesus returned alone to Kalinga, Prince Ravanna’s province, with no further trouble.

He almost didn’t get into Ravanna’s palace.

“Go!” the chief guard told him, waving at Jesus outside the great doors as if he were a fly to shoo away.

“I assure you, guard,” Jesus told him, “In spite of my dirt and grime and this tattered robe, I belong here. I am Jesus, the Hebrew your master brought back with him from the West.”

The guard’s eyes popped out of his head. His curved sword clattered. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I recognize you now.” He was trembling. “I will take you to the Prince this minute!”

“Let me wash, first.” Jesus beat some of the dust off his robe. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell your master you refused to let me in.”

The guard bowed low with relief. Hastily he led Jesus into the arching rooms of the palace.

When Jesus had cleaned himself, he went directly to Ravanna, who was lying in state on a couch in the room where he held audience for his many ministers and governors. Two young women bent over his reed couch, fanning him with huge woven fans. Clouds of sandalwood incense smoke were pouring out of two brass bowls on tripods. Jesus went up to the thick silk carpet before Ravanna’s couch and bent his head respectfully.

“Predicted one!” Ravanna exclaimed. He rose from his couch hesitantly, unsure whether to bow to Jesus the god or embrace Jesus the man.

Jesus helped him by striding forward and embracing the Prince, who was glad to return the greeting in the same way.

“Where have you been, my friend?” Ravanna asked, smiling into Jesus’ eyes.

Jesus sat down while Ravanna ordered a feast of pheasant legs and curried rice that was brought on a small bronze table immediately.  Jesus spoke of the things he had done. As he talked, a dark young harem woman with transparent yellow leggings kept refilling his small cup of sweet green tea.

After two hours, during which Ravanna asked many questions and made quick, pointed comments, he rose. “You are no longer the excited young man who came with me on a strange and wonderful journey to India.” He looked Jesus over carefully. “I see before me a tall and handsome man with beautiful, flowing hair. Is this not so, my dakini?” He turned quickly to the young harem woman.

He caught her staring at Jesus. She blushed a deep, earthy red and turned her face away.

“So,” Ravanna said. He stared at Jesus again. “Your eyes,” the Prince continued, “are more intense. Oh yes, they have always been particularly bright, my friend.”

Jesus met Ravanna’s gaze silently.

“But now,” Ravanna said, “they are not so piercing. They are like deep pools of fire and ice that threaten me and give me impossible promises at the same time.”

Ravanna’s voice broke. “Who are you, my friend?” He cleared his throat. “How old are you, now, Jesus?” he asked. “Twenty-two?”

“Almost,” Jesus murmured.

Ravanna lifted a slender wooden goblet of wine to his lips and drank. He set the goblet back on the table beside his tea.

“You look much older,” he said. “I would wager you are even better at being in a woman’s arms than I am. Would you like one more chance at my harem? If you say no, I will understand.”

Jesus remained silent.

Ravanna shook his head. “All that sensitivity and strength in you,” he told Jesus, “and it all goes not to sensual love but rather to that fire I see burning in your eyes!”

“Don’t overestimate me, Ravanna,” Jesus softly said.

Ravanna laughed and shifted restlessly. “Overestimate you! You are a god!”

“I still feel very human,” Jesus told him, leaning forward.

The Prince sadly nodded his head. “Yes, that is part of it, too,” he said. “I see the love in your eyes shining out on me. I am a sentimental fool. I know you must love everyone lke this now, especially the poor and needy, as Buddha did. I wish I were a beggar here in my own palace right this minute. Then you would really love me.”

Jesus shook his head. “I do really love you, Ravanna, as one man for another, as a good friend.”

The Prince turned his head away and stared out through the hanging window beads to his torch-lit gardens beyond, for a long time.

When he regained control of himself, he turned back to Jesus and smiled. “Come,” he said. “Let us sleep. Tomorrow I have a present for you. And we will prepare for leaving together. I will accompany you to the western edges of India.”

The present was a white elephant.

Jesus stared at it, open mouthed, as Ravanna’s elephant keeper brought it in through the front gate of the palace grounds.

Ravanna laughed. “You thought I would give you another gem such as I gave your parents, didn’t you, or perhaps try to sneak a beautiful young woman into your baggage!”

Jesus nodded, looking up at the huge white beast towering over him.

“But an elephant,” said the Prince. “Never!”

“Ravanna,” Jesus said, “how can I bring an elephant to Galilee?”

Ravanna tapped the side of his nose and grinned. He waved his elephant keeper away, out of hearing. “Of course you can’t,” he told Jesus. “I have made a plan. You will offer the elephant to the high priest of Persia.”

Jesus blinked. “But what will the Parthian king, who rules Persia, say to that?” Jesus shook his head. “Won’t the king be jealous? Or have you already given him an elephant, too?”

Ravanna grimaced. “I would not give that fool king even a fang from a snake.” He patted Jesus on the back. “You see, my friend, you will loan the elephant to the high priest. It will not be a true gift. That way, the foreign king who rules Persia and its priests cannot complain of unfairness. Nor will he take the elephant away, for it will still be owned by you, a famous Doctor of the Laws and a subject of the Roman Empire.”

“Politics,” Jesus said, shaking his head.

Ravanna smiled. “Yes, and you would do well to learn about it, too.”

“I already know,” Jesus said. “My country is occupied by the Roman Empire of which I am a subject.”

Ravanna waved his hand. “You are the Messiah of your people. Change that.”

“I wish it could be that easy, Ravanna. I will do it if I can.”

“Surely you will,” Ravanna answered. “Now get on top of your elephant. Try him out. See, he eyes you with impatience. We leave in just a few short days, and you must get to know him.”

The journey was long, for they had to cross all the way from the eastern shores of the great ocean to the far west. They climbed upward into the hills of central India, seeing many wildly colored birds, and beautiful but deadly snakes as long as their elephants and as thick as a strong man’s waist. Their elephants stepped on whatever snakes they could, unless Jesus and Ravanna held the great beasts back.

At night, the hill-country tigers, cheetahs, and leopards prowled about, soundlessly, until capturing their prey. Then their growls and snuffling screeches rang through the thick undergrowth. A strange, small hill monkey even followed them for a time, accepting food that they threw down to it on the ground.

They descended from the hills and soon were crossing the dry and barren desert of Thar. They carefully kept their use of water for washing to a minimum and spent most of their days under the shaded roofs of the little cloth houses strapped to the top of each elephant. To pass the time, they sipped siddhi, a plant substance they made into tea, which helped relax them and was used as a medicinal plant throughout India. It was not until they descended gradually from the desert into the forests of the Indus River valley that anything unusual happened.

They were camped for the night in a little grove of banyan trees that were planted there for travelers and cared for by local inhabitants. The two men, and the company of cooks, elephant keepers, guides, and others who accompanied them, spread their tents between the large prop roots of the banyans. The prop roots, looking like trunks themselves, descended from the branches of the main trunk, a huge, old giant at least five times the length of a man in circumference and one-and-a-half lengths wide.

Jesus and Ravanna were walking after dark along the road to a place where they could look out over the Indus River valley below. In one short day, they would be at the River’s edge and would part company. The moon above them was full, sending streamers of light down through the waving trees and onto the road before them. Behind them a night hawk was calling.

Suddenly, ahead of them, a great pale shape leaped into the center of the dirt road.

“Great Mother of Krishna!” Ravanna softly swore.

It was a great tiger from the central hills. It was white.

The two men were careful not to move.

“Is this another gift of yours?” Jesus asked quietly.

“Do not joke,” Ravanna said. “If that fellow has just come out of the desert as we have, he may be hungry.”

“Look,” Jesus said. “He is cross-eyed.”

“That matters little,” Ravanna said. “Tigers depend more on smell than sight anyway. See how his nose twitches.”

The tiger crouched and sniffed in their direction for several minutes. Then it lay down on its stomach and licked its left paw.

“Cannot you do something to get rid of him?” Ravanna asked.

“I am not an animal trainer,” Jesus said. “Are your legs growing weak?”

“I can stand here all night,” Ravanna told him. “I am a mountain. See, I do not even quiver.”

Jesus turned his head slightly and stole a look at the rigid Prince.

The tiger rose.

“He is coming!” whispered Ravanna.

The tiger padded up to them. His eyes were definitely crossed. It was obvious he couldn’t see them well. He stopped two paces from them and sniffed.

Both men remained absolutely silent. Jesus felt sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

The tiger snorted their scent out of his wide nose, turned, and silently ran back into the forest.

Ravanna sank to the ground. “Buddha’s feet!” he exclaimed. He wiped his brow. “I have never been this frightened in my life.”

Jesus sat down beside him. His whole body felt weak but excited. “It was a sign,” he said. “It reminds me of doves that we sacrifice in the Temple at Jerusalem. The best doves are white, often with black markings like that tiger’s black stripes.”

Ravanna shook his head. “This time we were almost the sacrifice.”

“Exactly,” Jesus said. “I am to give myself to those who need me. Rather than make sacrifices in the Temple, I am to sacrifice my own desires for the needs of others.”

“And your life, too?” Ravanna asked. He was still trembling.

“It won’t come to that,” Jesus said. “Surely it won’t. I can be helpful to people, as a teacher and perhaps more.”

“The tiger did not eat us, it is true,” Ravanna said. He shrugged. “But from what you have told me of your troubles with priests here in India, I say you must learn not to anger others so easily.”

Jesus rested his eyes quietly on Ravanna. “Is this what you would tell me on our last night together?”

Ravanna blushed and frowned. “Fool that I am!” he exclaimed. “Rise, knees! Your friend is leaving and you do not even have kind words on your lips!”

He stood and took Jesus by the arm.

“Let us return to camp quickly,” he suggested. “There, free from all fear of tigers, we will laugh and tell each other stories. Did you hear the one of the street woman and Buddha? Good. I will tell it to you. It sounds just like you. Come.”

The next afternoon they reached the eastern bank of the Indus River. Jesus found a caravan of spice merchants with whom to travel. His white elephant trailed along, looking grand and out of place, behind the merchants’ camels. Several days later, they were on their way into the heart of the upland Persian desert.

---

---
Most recent revision of text: 1 Aug. 2020.