12

THE HOLY LAND, 4 BCE

He let out a shrill cry. It was a cry that even Old Threeskull might find frightening. It was the last cry many men, women, and children ever heard. It was the cry of Pestilence, Leader Of The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse. It was the cry of Kronos, Master Of The Night.

There was a horrid grace to his movements. He knew how to kill and he enjoyed killing. No movement was wasted. Like the 20th Century Martial Art Jeet Kune Do, Kronos was a minimum of movement whose aim it was to kill a maximum of targets. A sword shoved back took a fleeing child. A shattered vase sent fragments into the brain of a would-be assassin. A foot kicked out crushed the skull of a fallen fighter, and on its back trip, cut off the escape of a fleeing woman, who would now learn exactly why they had been told to stay still. Now, it would not be quick.

If Kronos was the scalpel, then Silas was the Bludgeon-wielding-Bludgeon. He simply powered through whatever he encountered, and almost always left it broken. His strength was immense, and his path was always strewn with thrown bodies. Though not as casually cruel as the others, he was the most destructive. Like with any giant-type, though, if you escaped his first wave, you had a good chance to flee. While he loved this life, he had a special weakness, almost as pronounced as Kronos' blind spot concerning brotherhood and loyalty.

In a clearing stood a small boy, anxiously ushering away a group of his animals. Silas laughed, and scooped the boy up. He did not resist.

"Please, sir! Do not kill me. My friends need me to take care of them."

"Where Are Your Friends?"

The boy pointed to the small menagerie, including an ox and a lamb.

"They have never laughed at me, or deserted me when times were hard. At least let them go, if you must take me."

In his long life, the brute had often found the same things about animals. He would eat them, as he needed and felt like. But unlike cruel, plump, stupid people, he left their homes be. In fact, he often felt he was doing the animals a favor by clearing away so many smelly people.

"Take them and go far from here. You must always care for them. Now get away from---what's this, a water skin?"

Silas ran his hands over the cured skin-sealed bowls. He suddenly felt ill, as though he had touched something opposite his nature. The boy took his things and friends and fled. When he was far enough away, he offered up a prayer that the wondrous baby he had played for a few nights back was alright. So it was that The Little Drummer Boy survived The Slaughter Of The Innocents.

But so many others did not. Many of those were sent on by the flesh-rending terror that was Caspian. Truly insane, he would later inspire many of fiction's great psychopaths--including one with green hair and chalky skin. With a frustrated cry of a brat who has not found the toy he was looking for, he would tear into his victims, with knife and hand both. No mummification expert was ever more thorough.

At the request of King Herod The Great, the Horsemen scoured Judaea searching for a certain child, prophesied to be the Anointed One foretold by Isaiah. But in truth, they were searching for The Oldest Man Alive. You see, The Four Horsemen were only three. Methos - Death - had vanished without a trace. They thought he might be dead or imprisoned. But in truth, the first stirrings of conscience combined with a weariness with endless slaughter to drive Methos into hiding.

In hiding, he found he could not hide from the inexplicable dreams of a woman with accusing eyes. It would be another 2000 years before he would even begin to fully recognize how his actions had marked that woman--or how she had played a role in his choice to turn away.

They had searched for thirty years, to no avail. Herod had made an honest effort on their behalf, but Methos was defined by his ability to vanish. Only an act of extreme stupidity on Methos' part would end the search in 1995. But here and now, The Slaughter Of The Innocents was the final gasp of what had been called The Demon's Ride. In short order, Silas and Caspian would be captured, and Kronos would leave The Western World behind, settling in Ancient Iceland. In later generations, certain Vikings, finding the Immortal living there wielding Silas' War-Hammer, made certain presumptions about his identity.

Caspian dragged a man through the dirt. Soolaimon-Ben-Moshe was a man who no longer cared about living. The Kaballic student had seen Caspian literally butcher his beloved wife and stepchildren. Caspian cast the shattered wreck in front of Kronos.

"He is a Sorcerer. He can tell us where Methos is."

The man looked up in angry defiance.

"A deep pit of Sheol awaits you all. There, The Enemy, who is called Pagh, Ghidrah, F'lg, D'hk and Ah'rmn will feast upon your fetid souls. I will give you nothing, since you have taken all I have. Those little girls were my heart. I am dead to myself before the last blow. The Lord Is One."

Kronos, to the man's shock, wiped away a tear.

"Look, my friend--you've made me cry. I don't like to cry--its unseemly."

A quick thrust, and Soolaimon - Ben - Moshe was dead. Kronos never took note of a rare pendant that the man wore. A gift from the young man's master, it prevented the wearer from being sensed by other Immortals. The night was long, and the Horsemen departed for yet more barbarism. History says their search did not turn up the child in question, whose family fled into Egypt, there enjoying the protection of the Immortal Tak Ne--later known as Ramirez.

Only minutes after their departure, Soolaimon-Ben-Moshe returned from the dead. Looking around, he grabbed a fellow survivor.

"Those Horsemen! Why did they do this to us?"

"They searched for a child. That child is believed to be The Messiah, come to overthrow Rome and Herod. They did not find---wait--you were dead!"

The man pushed Soolaimon away, shaking.

"Oh, I am unclean, to have touched a dead thing."

"Do I look dead to you?"

"Get back from me! Back I say! DEAD THING!! FILTHY ONE! HE BROUGHT those demons up with Kabballic Sorcery!"

The survivors of five small towns needed a scapegoat--the new Immortal was it.

"DEAD THING!!"

"GET HIM! BURRNNNN HIM!!"

Fleeing for the hills and beyond, the outcast swore an oath as he was turned out in name and prayer.

"That child, for whom those madmen searched, is my enemy! Him, and all his family."

Thunder crackled overhead, as the Child's Family heard the challenge.

MASH 4077th, September, 1952

Radar, Potter, and Hawkeye all sat in rapt attention as Sidney Freedman concluded the story of his first death. Father Mulcahy was taking extensive notes. He would later have to come up with a cover story as to how he got one of 'his' Immortals to cough up so much information. Radar broke the silence.

"So--you and the Lord are enemies, Major?"

Sidney sighed, and tried to understand what his story had meant to Radar.

"No. You see - Walter - I was crazy with grief at that time. So while I don't believe that Yeshua-Bar-Yossef was The Anointed One, I also do not consider him to have been my enemy. Like most people, the only true enemy I had--was myself. Later, I met with a very old, very wise Immortal--The Oldest, as a matter of fact. He knew a thing or two about pointless hate. Later, I apologized to Yeshua's mother, Miryam, for the part I played in his torture and death. Dear woman gave me her forgiveness without batting an eye."

Hawkeye remembered the Reverend Tarnot in Crabapple Cove. Like Father Mulcahy, he had respected points of view like Hawkeye's without being preachy. He remembered listening to him speak about Apocryphal parts of Bible lore.

"Sidney--what part did you play, exactly?"

"You tell me, Hawkeye, since I think you've figured it out already."

Despite having more years of Sunday School under his belt, Potter didn't see where Pierce was headed. The Padre kept quiet, not wishing to overtly influence the dialogue. Hawkeye said it plainly.

"Reverend Tarnot said that a bitter man bribed a Roman soldier, and took his place overseeing Jesus' path to Golgotha. He---you--whipped him mercilessly, then mocked him for good measure."

Potter's eyes glazed over at this, and he continued for Hawkeye.

"You said, 'Get up! Why do you linger?' and then you cracked the whip a bit more."

Seeing how this upset Sherman, Sidney finished for him.

"To which this kind man who had never done me one bit of harm, responded, 'I Go. But You Will Linger.' I did just that, but without my pointless hate. So many would-be saviors in those days--just like now. He came close, though, in my humble opinion."

Radar looked directly at the shrink. He was plainly stunned.

"Major! You're The Wandering Jew!"