reason that it might not have even existed until three hundred years afterwards. Why pretend that he wasn’t strongly associated with the same rebel movements that the Romans were so desperate to stamp out, all through his lifetime and for years afterwards?’
‘This is the kind of stuff nineteen-year-old theology students discuss in the pub,’ Ben said. ‘You think I haven’t heard it before?’
‘Then maybe our bright young scholars should think about it a little harder,’ Wesley shot back. ‘Simeon did. The evidence, both from the Bible and other contemporary historical sources, all points to the inescapable fact that Jesus was crucified as a political revolutionary. The Roman chronicler Tacitus states as much in his Annals. But Jesus was much more than just another insurrectionist,’ Wesley went on emphatically. ‘The gospels of both Matthew and Luke state pretty explicitly that he was of royal birth, a legitimate descendant of Solomon and David claiming rightful kingship over the nation of Israel and come to deliver his people from the tyrannical rule of a foreign invader – a liberator, wielding a liberator’s sword. He was the Messiah or “anointed one”, whose triumphal entry into Jerusalem was in keeping with the ancient prophecy in Zechariah 9:9 that the rightful king would ride into the city on a donkey. How else could this humble travelling holy man have managed to convince the Roman governor of Judea that his intention was to become King of the Jews, and so needed to be made an example of by putting him to death in a manner specifically reserved for enemies of the state?’
Ben kept his mouth shut. Wesley had waded into an area of biblical research that even some of the most conservative scholars had to admit was murky at best.
‘This Bible stuff never stuck on me,’ Jude said, ‘but weren’t the two other men crucified with Jesus just common criminals? Hardly enemies of the state.’
‘In the original Koine Greek in which the New Testament was written,’ Wesley explained, ‘the men crucified alongside Jesus were described as lestai, which was mistranslated as “robbers”. In fact, in the first century a.d. the term lestai would have signified much more than common crooks, but rather terrorists, insurrectionists, rebels. They were outlaws, like the rest of the disciples. Take Judas Iscariot, for instance. That’s more than likely another mistranslation. Many scholars, your father included, believed that he was actually “Judas the Sicarius”, Judas the rebel or guerrilla fighter.’
‘But Jesus was a pacifist,’ Jude said. ‘Even I know that he advocated love, not war.’
‘As a philosopher he advocated Christian values of tolerance and goodness towards one’s fellow men,’ Wesley said. ‘The same virtues practised by, say, the Templar Knights a thousand years later, although that didn’t stop them from being ferocious warriors when violence was called for. Fact is, Jesus was far from the meek, mild hippy image he’s become identified with in modern times. Did your father ever tell you the story of how he stormed into the Temple and kicked over the moneychangers’ tables? Hardly an act of pacifism, do you think? It must have sparked a full-scale riot.’
Jude had to concede the point. ‘Okay, but Jesus and his disciples didn’t go around with weapons, did they?’
‘Actually, the Bible tells us that they were routinely armed, like any soldier would be. For example, they had swords with them at the Last Supper, even as they sat around eating and talking.’
‘What?’
‘It’s right there in the Gospel of Luke,’ Wesley said. “Jesus” last words to his disciples at the supper are to urge them to arm themselves, even if they have to sell their garments to pay for weapons. The disciples respond by reminding him they already did – “Look, Lord, here are our swords” – to which Jesus replies with approval.’
‘Are you serious?’ Jude said.
‘Sure I am. And there’s more. Now, when the Last Supper is over, Jesus leads his followers to the Garden of Gethsemane, where shortly afterwards the authorities turn up to arrest him. Not just the token handful it would take to round up an unarmed pacifist, either. According to some versions of the scripture, an entire cohort of Roman soldiers was sent to capture Jesus. A cohort is one tenth of a legion. That’s six hundred soldiers, accompanied by troops of the puppet Jewish regime and various officials including the High Priest and his assistant Malchus. No sooner have they appeared, but one of Jesus’ disciples whips out a sword and slices off Malchus’ ear.’
Jude shot Ben a look of incredulity.
‘It’s true,’ Ben told him. ‘It’s there in the Bible.’
‘Now, the Gospel of St John actually names the wielder of the sword as the disciple Simon Peter. Later to become known as St Peter the Apostle, of course, though he may also have been the same man as Simon the Zealot, a well-known militant nationalist of the time. There’s a 1520 painting, The Capture of Christ, that shows him swinging a sword at a terrified Malchus.’ Wesley grinned. ‘I know, I tried to buy it. The painting gives a pretty good idea of what the scene must have been like. What happened next? Six hundred soldiers dispatched to make an arrest, only to be met with armed resistance? There’s bound to have been fighting. Yet even despite what’s clearly written in the Bible, none of this is mentioned in the conventional account of the story that’s preached today.’
Ben leaned forward to cut in. ‘So if I understand, your theory goes like this: when Jesus is captured, presumably along with the two other rebels who are crucified along with him, some of his men manage to escape, taking the sword with them. It remains in the hands of the rebels who continue the armed struggle against the Romans for years after the crucifixion.’
‘Right,’ Wesley said. ‘Imagine what an incredibly important icon it would be to them. The sword of their Messiah, passed from one rebel leader to the next, perhaps in the hope that another true king would emerge one day to lead them to victory.’
‘One rebellion leads to another, leaders come and go, years pass,’ Ben continued. ‘By the time of the major revolt of 66 a.d. and the sack of Jerusalem, the sword is in the possession of the rebel commander whose forces then take refuge at the fortress of Masada.’
Wesley nodded. ‘But now, fresh from destroying Jerusalem, the Roman tenth legion turns up at Masada and surrounds the mountain with thousands of troops and siege artillery. The rebels know there’s no way out, and when they see the Romans building their assault ramp, they realise they’re running out of time.’
‘And rather than let themselves be enslaved or slaughtered by the Romans, the rebels orchestrate their own mass suicide. But first, their commander hides the precious sword within the fortress walls to prevent it from falling into enemy hands.’
‘That’s it,’ Wesley said.
Ben chewed the theory over for a moment or two. It was a compelling story, but there was just one small problem. ‘Even if you can prove that this sword belonged to the Judean freedom fighters of Jesus’ time, I don’t see how you can trace it back to Jesus himself.’
Wesley considered the question, pausing to wet his lips with another sip of wine. ‘I mentioned before the sword that Peter the Apostle used to slice off the ear of Malchus at the scene of Jesus’ arrest. Now, that particular weapon is believed to have passed into the hands of Joseph of Arimathea, the man who gave up his own prepared tomb for Christ to be buried in.’
‘I know who Joseph of Arimathea was.’
‘Fine. Then you know that legend tells how Joseph later travelled to Britain, where he became the first Christian bishop there. Some accounts say that he brought with
