Chapter Text
The lands of Kerioth were always sweltering hot. Hot enough to blister bare feet and burn hands.
It burned as hot as the passion inside of Judas Iscariot.
A young boy, racing across the sands, being called for by his mother to retrieve his sandals so as to not injure himself. A young boy too caught up in his endeavors to hear her.
He knew of the trip they would take to Jerusalem for the Passover Feast, a long trek across the desert, but he was much too preoccupied chasing a neighbor’s cat down the street. The sand and the stone burned his feet, but he was determined to continue listening to the cat purr in his lap.
“Judas! Little Jude, where are you going? I can hear your mother calling.” A woman spoke— he recognized her from the dinners his mother would hold at their home. She was hanging out clothes.
The boy paused in his steps, ceasing his excited giggling. His feet finally set into the sand. It burned and tugged him back down to reality.
“Always racing along, head in the clouds. I’m sure you wouldn’t like being left back in the village while we travel.” She looked down at him with a stern yet soft expression. Judas took the hint to run back to his home, lifting his burning legs and turning and racing home.
Once he reached his home, he quickly opened the door and stepped inside. Everywhere in Kerioth was hot. Everywhere in Judea was hot. But the stone and rug on the floor were cool enough that he wasn’t burned. The stone walls felt nice and cool on his hands.
“Judas, you know having your feet hurt before we travel is not a good idea. We can’t miss another Passover.” His mother walked towards him. She was shorter than other women in the village, with long, thick, dark hair and tanned skin. She crouched in front of him and set his sandals down.
Judas knew the unsaid words behind her voice, always too kind to speak them aloud. Miss another Passover because of him and his sickness. He always seemed to get sick around this season, and the previous year they’d held off going despite his healthy state out of fear he’d grow sick on the way to the city.
“I will be alright, Eema. You know I’m much too quick on my feet for the heat to catch me.” Or the sickness. His mother carded her fingers through his hair, kissed his cheek and stood.
“The day you can outrun the heat is the day I watch you leave Kerioth.”
Judas smiled softly. He didn’t quite understand why his mother’s smile waivered, or the slightly sad look in her eye. He would never leave Kerioth, he’d stay here with his mother and father until he grew old. He’d learn his father’s business and take it over when he passed on.
Like he was summoned, his father opened the door and let it slam shut behind him. It jolted Judas from his thoughts, noticing his mother had left him to wrap loaves of bread in cloth. He looked up at the man and the bag he carried with admiration.
“Why are your sandals inside the house.” The sentence did not seem like a question, more a demand. “You’re old enough to know not to track sand into our home.”
“He was not playing in them, Simon.” His mother spoke up quickly, despite the hesitance in her voice. “Besides, we need to leave soon. We can’t be left behind, not the first year our boy can go since he was born.”
Judas looked around, then back to his father. He smiled once more. “How was your work today, Abba?”
Simon huffed, setting down his bag near the door and kicking off his own sandals. “It was work. I am glad for it to be over for today. Why so curious?”
“Because I want to be just like you when I grow older.” Judas said simply, smiling as he did so. His expression remained happy as he looked down, then back up at the sound of his father’s faint chuckling. That chuckling turned into a guffaw that caused the older man to slightly double over.
“Do you hear that? Our little Jude, a business apprentice.” His father seemed to laugh louder, eyes as dark as ever. It made Judas feel small. “You want to be like me? Perhaps for a while you could be, before the taxes get to you.”
His mother walked back into the room, carrying the loaves of bread and a few bags of things. She seemed protective— defensive, almost— of him. Her hair fell down her back as the breezes from her movements brushed it back. She stepped between him and his father. “Simon. He’s just a boy, let him dream. You should be grateful for how he admires you.”
The man shook his head, smile turning sour. Though it stuck to his face, it seemed more like an ape bearing its teeth than a delighted expression. “Always soft on him. He’s twelve years old, almost a man. I will take him with me to fetch the lamb for Passover when we reach Jerusalem.”
His father turned before his mother could speak to him once more, a clear look back in her direction with a piercing gaze. Judas watched as he left, then looked up at his mother. Her eyes were dark now too, a different sort of dark. Like a sky before a storm. She looked down at him, not speaking. She didn’t need to say a word. Judas’ smile was now a soft frown, and he made the choice to allow the silence. He gently embraced his mother.
…..
The Judean opened his eyes, yawning and stretching. He carded his fingers through his hair and looked up. His mother was asleep next to him. He softly shook her awake. Her eyes seemed to creak open like a rusted door. Something was there behind her eyes, something far off she’d seen during her sleep, but she smiled softly at him despite it.
Judas was the first to speak.
“Good morning, Eema. How was your sleep?”
He hated when his father would speak loudly first thing in the morning, though that was years ago now. He was, what, twelve at his first Passover? Now he was sixteen, and stronger.
“I slept fine, Jude. Thank you for waking me. How did you sleep, dear?” She smiled, a smile that calmed the burning in his mind.
”I slept… not very deeply. Passover always excites me.” He admitted, smiling to himself. His mother’s smile was as infectious as leprosy. He watched as she closed her eyes and slumped her head against the wall.
”I feel tired this morning, Judas.” She began, eyes opening slightly. Judas leaned ever so slightly towards her, listening intently. “Will you fetch us some fruit from the marketplace? All the money you need is on the table.”
“Anything for you, Eema.” Judas smiled brighter. He carefully stood up, placing a hand on her forehead. She seemed a bit colder than usual, not necessarily with any fever he could detect. He leaned down, pressed a kiss to her temple, picked up the coins on the table and left the inn.
The young Judean set his feet out on the stone and sand path of Jerusalem. Not as hot as Kerioth, it was an adjustment. He had no need to run like he did at his home. He felt as though the bustling city matched the burning in his soul, everyone lively and shouting with excitement.
Judas made his way to a fruit stand, weaving through crowds and stands in the market. He approached the stand, looked at the vendor and smiled politely.
“Shalom.” The vendor spoke. He reciprocated Judas’ smile.
“Shalom! I would like to purchase… three pomegranates and two figs.” He rifled through the small bag with the coins inside, not paying much attention to the land around him. He listened as the vendor set the fruit on the counter of the stand.
“Here for passover?” The vendor spoke, smile clear in his voice. Judas nodded in response and handed over the coins, then picked up the fruits.
“Have a good rest of your day. Shalom shalom, friend.”
“Shalom Shalom!” He smiled brightly and quickly walked away. Perhaps making a detour from where he was meant to be going wasn’t a bad idea- he only came to Jerusalem once a year, and he’d never seen much of it. Judas turned and walked aimlessly, to wherever his mind and feet would bring him. He felt as though the burning in his soul was dragging him towards something, so he followed, watching the ground more than the land in front of him. Then, when he was satisfied, he paused and looked up.
The scene unfolded in front of him like a drawing on a scroll. Roman soldiers standing patiently, one of them slamming nails into the feet of a man. A man spread out, hands nailed to a wooden cross. The man was sobbing in pain, visibly taking in ragged breaths and screaming. He was battered and bruised, and had a large cut across his chest. A small group of Judas’ people had formed and watched.
“Excuse me- shalom—!” He stepped forward, looking up at a tall roman soldier. He heard the murmuring of the group, some people calling him foolish for approaching the hulking man.
“What do you want, dog.” The soldier spat back. Judas flinched away from the spit and frowned, then quickly smiled politely. His height and build reminded him of his fath- no.
“What was his crime? Surely- during Passover especially- killing a man like this is… not good!”
The group of soldiers looked at him for a moment in confusion, then began laughing loudly. “His crime? He robbed a man on the highway.”
Judas furrowed his brow. “But what if-“
“A Roman man, Jew. Run along back to your people. Unless, of course, you’d like to join him..”
“No thank you! Shalom shalom-“ The young man quickly turned and began to walk away, holding the fruit tight to his chest.
The soldiers laughed even louder. What was so funny? He was just being polite. Judas looked around, looking for a path home. Nothing seemed familiar. He decided following the burning would work once again… sure it led him to that horrible sight but- he could find his mother. Just continue walking, follow that feeling. Picture the fire leading him to his mother.
He walked to a door, backing up ever so slightly. He was back where he needed to be, back to where he was staying with his mother. Jude opened the creaky door and stepped inside, looking down at his mother. She was asleep, curly hair covering most of her face. The woman looked to be sweating during her sleep. His brows furrowed again and he set two of the pomegranates and a fig on the small table, then sat and rolled the fig over in his hands.
“Blessed are You, Lord our God, who created the fruits of the universe.”