The Gospel Of Judas by Simon Mawer

Author:Simon Mawer [Mawer, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781405512640
Publisher: Hachette Littlehampton
Published: 2011-11-23T22:00:00+00:00

8

‘Where have you been?’ Her voice on the phone, quiet and anxious.

‘You know where I was. In Jerusalem.’

‘What was it all about? Why the mystery?’

‘A scroll. They’ve found a scroll.’

‘It’s always a scroll. Scrolls, papyrus, God in heaven can’t you get your mind away from it?’

‘It’s devastating.’ The word seemed both inadequate and absurdly overstated. The scroll was no more than a piece of rag, a scrap of plant pith, a mere scrawl of letters.

‘Devastating? You don’t know what devastating is. Leo, can we meet?’

He saw an abyss before him, and the ground beneath his feet sliding down into the gulf like the scree on the crater of a volcano. The volcano shook faintly and grumbled far away in the depth.

‘Meet?’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake! Look, I won’t give you any trouble, please believe me. But I must see you.’

And in some vaguely defined way, he had to see her. When you stand on the edge of the abyss you need someone there beside you. So they arranged to meet on neutral ground, outside a bar tucked in a mediaeval alley in the centre of the city, just opposite the Palazzo Taverna, 14° secolo. Leo got there first and settled down at an outside table with a glass of beer and a copy of a magazine. Behind a small barricade of potted laurel bushes, the aromatic laurel that the English call bay, the pagan laurel that crowned the heads of heroes, he sat and watched and waited.

The occasional tourist passed by. So did the minutes. The owner of the café – a languid, middle-aged man with a carefully cultivated bohemian look – began a discussion about holidays with the girl who was serving behind the bar. Would she go away with her boyfriend or with him? It started as a joke and metamorphosed into a bitter little argument.

And then Madeleine appeared: a bright, sharp figure at the far end of the alley, walking down the gunmetal grey paving stones towards him. Leo waited to be disappointed in her: in her purposeful stride, upset momentarily as her heel caught between the setts and she almost tripped; in her manner, which was of nervous laughter, the kind that speaks of anxiety and insecurity; in her look, which was pale and tense, as though smiling were a strenuous exercise; in the way she pushed a strand of hair from her eyes and smiled at him with desperation. He wanted to be disappointed, but he wasn’t. He was frightened of her, but he wasn’t disappointed.

‘I’m late,’ she said, sitting at the table. ‘I took a bus and the bloody thing broke down, and we all had to get out and catch the next one, which of course was already full, and then there was this gypsy that someone said had picked his pocket, and God knows what …’

‘What would you like?’

‘Coffee. I want a coffee. Or a stiff gin. I think I want a coffee, but I need a gin.’ She laughed, shaking her head and running her fingers through her hair in a gesture that was purely, startlingly female.

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