The palisade was high, and the only entrance was heavily guarded. But that was no deterrent to him. As a master of burglary, he had already defeated much more complex defences. Aided by the deep darkness that no moonlight dispelled, he easily dislodged one of pales of the fence, sneaked through the chink, and moved uphill as silently as a cat on the prowl.

At the hill’s top several figures, shadows under the shadow, stood silently, their limbs nailed to the perpendicular beams of the crosses. Some were already dead, some about to give out their last breath. But the one figure he has been willing to visit was still very much alive. He had to be.

He stopped at the foot of that one cross, and bowed. “Rabbi?” he whispered. “Jesus?”

The figured stirred, as if snatched out of a reverie. “What? Who? Barabbas?” Jesus replied.

“Shush,” Barabbas replied. “Not so loud, Rabbi. Yes, it’s me. I have come to free you.” He put his bag on the ground and fished a pair of pliers from it.

“It’s too late,” Jesus said. “Too weak.”

“I have bread, I have water for you! I can help you out of here. Just lean on me. I know a way—”

“Not worth it,” Jesus breathed out.

“What?”

“They don’t want me. They never did, and they never will. They hate me.”

Barabbas swallowed. “You’re wrong. They just…” he paused, looking for words. “It just takes time for your words to sink in, that’s all.”

“Thirteen,” Jesus said.

“Thirteen what?”

“Thirteen disciples. That’s all I could muster in ten years. Such a puny number. And out of the thirteen, two betrayed me, as I foretold they would. And I’m sure the others would have also, had they been tried.” 

Barabbas sighed. “They’re men, Rabbi. They’re weak, and easily frightened. They do their best to follow in your steps, but they’ll stumble. They’ll fail. But they still need a candle to guide them out of the darkness.”

“I gave them all I could. They lacked fish, I gave them fish. They beseeched me for bread, I gave them bread. I even raised Lazarus from the dead. To no avail. No matter what I did, they rejected me. They’d shut their eyes at noon rather than bask in the light of the sun.”

A hush fell.

“You can’t give up, Rabbi,” Barabbas said. “I know a sailor. He will take you away to any place you want in the empire. You can start anew. You’ll find other, stronger disciples. You will—“

“It’s too late,” Jesus cut in. “That ship has sailed.” 

Barabbas felt, rather than saw, a smile play on Jesus’s lips. “Go now, Barabbas,” Jesus added in a weary tone. “Don’t risk your life for me. One’s better than two. And may my blessings go with you.”

“Is there really nothing I can do for you, Rabbi?” Barabbas asked.

“I’m tired,” Jesus replied. “So tired. They simply aren’t ready. Maybe I will return, later. When they have grown up. It was too soon. And it’s not their fault. They didn’t fail me, Barabbas. No. I failed them.”

“I can’t let you die here, Rabbi,” Barabbas protested. “You need help. You need rest. Come with me, and I shall save you.”

Jesus giggled, then coughed heavily. “I wouldn’t have expected you to say that to me, Barabbas,” he said.

Barabbas didn’t respond. He didn’t move either. Silence wrapped them both in secrecy.

And when, at dawn, the first legionary climbed the hill to check on the sentenced criminals, he froze in amazement when he saw, under Jesus of Nazareth’s dead body, the hunching shape of a sobbing man.