Chapter 12: Black Magic and Its Full Expose
Incidentally, it was either then or a few moments earlier that the magician, together with his faded armchair, vanished from the stage. And we must add that the audience never noticed it, so absorbed it was in the extraordinary things that Fagot was doing on the stage.
But I, dear readers, always keen to every trivial change, instantly noticed his disappearance and pursued after him. I will instruct you in the way of his path. Let my words be a lamp to your feet and light to that path!
The scorching sun was high in the sky, raining heat over the square in front of the gate. Not even the walls of the city provided refuge, leaving the impatient throng vulnerable to the vertical rays of fire. As a small group of foot soldiers tried to pave way among the spectators, Ratkiller trotted from a distance towards the gate with his typical phlegmatic look. Only the devil knows what was inside of him. Behind the executioner trailed the three prisoners, their hands and ankles bound by chains to one another.
The number of spectators constituted about half the city of Yershalayim. Among them, some were loyal followers of Yeshua, who fortunately benefitted from his teachings. Some pitied the convicted man and were enraged that the diabolic Bar-Rabban was condoned instead. Others came out from mere curiosity to watch the execution. But none of them dared to rouse the Ratkiller.
Then, from within the dense crowd of slithered out a familiar face that maneuvered skillfully through the shoulders. Platinum and gold crowns on each side of his mouth, sparkling gray suit, a cane with a form of a poodle’s head… Woland! But how in God’s name could the black magician have come here? One would have never imagined time travel is in within the abilities of this professor.
After lingering for a couple seconds until the procession of prisoners approached, Woland nonchalantly walked up to Yeshua, and as he did, gestured to Ratkiller as if they were old friends. Ratkiller immediately unshackled Yeshua and pushed him towards Woland, who gently greeted the condemned with a fatherly hug and took him to the side. The magician’s hoarse, rumbling voice made it very hard to understand their conversation.
But wait! Why am I the only one shocked to see Woland here? No doubt, his modern suit, the neatly greased hair and the waxed poodle cane could not be seen anywhere in this time. But not a single soul raised any concern at the sight of the foreigner. Not only that. His shady face was not at all disturbed by the sun’s rays, as though a special aura was protecting him. But let us put that aside for now and focus on what Woland has to say.
“My dear Yeshua, why are you doing this to yourself?” Woland hissed in perfect Latin.
“Ah, Aphranius…There is nothing you can do to change my mind. They are all good men. I…” Yeshua barely managed to let his voice out.
“Do you still have faith in these people? Are you really willing to die for these people, who you claim to be “good men”? Your death will not change anything. Every man is a creature of paradox that possesses both light and darkness inside; some of Him, some of me. If I had to pick the dominant power, it would rather be the latter. This, I can prove to you.”
Out of nowhere, a gray sack containing a spherical object magically appeared in his hands. Slowly, using both hands as if it were his life he was holding, he pulled out a globe. It was such an intricate globe, with precise depictions of every geographical elevation and ocean currents. Even “magnum opus” would not do justice to describe its magnificence.
“Ha! I just can’t save myself from utter amazement every time I see this. Such a clever little artifact, I must say. You know, He and I are the only ones to have it! Oh you have to see what this rascal can do,” cried Woland, placing the globe closer to Yeshua to let him take a closer look. Then he suddenly put on a dark smile. “I am graciously willing to share with you what I know.”
The series of events that took place right afterwards in a fraction of a second cannot be explained in any sensible way. Yeshua, shocked by what lay in front of his eyes, stood dumbfounded. The blazing sun, the spectators and Ratkiller were all gone. Instead, thousands of people were packed in a huge room, with their backs toward Yeshua. Some of them were on the floor, busy collecting some sort of foreign bills that were spread all over the place. The people were facing a stage, where a black, stout tomcat and a tall gentleman of incredible height stood. It was the Variety Theater! The two men were in Moscow, Russia!
“Behold! What you are about to witness is the product of what He and I have created!” whispered Woland, whose ecstatic face clearly showed his satisfaction of Yeshua’s reaction. Then, he gave a subtle nod to the men on stage, ordering them to carry out the ceremony.
Fagot, having gotten rid of the master of ceremonies, declared to the public:
“Now that we’ve kicked out the pest, let’s open a ladies’ shop!”
As Yeshua turned his attention to the speaker, his jaw dropped. The tiny bit of energy that kept him on his feet was sucked out completely, and he fell on his knees.
“Bar-Rabban!” Yeshua muttered in disbelief. Although the entertainer was dressed in a checkered suit, a jockey’s cap and a pince-nez, the face was clearly recognizable to Yeshua. The most despised criminal, one who lacked even a glimpse of benevolence, was on stage, enthralling these citizens.
“It’s nothing to be surprised about, really,” commented Woland with a smirk. “He is just one of mine. Now, watch him unveil the nature of your so-called “good men”. I will prove to you how unworthy they are of your sacrifice!”
And all at once the floor of the stage was covered with Persian rugs. … That swindler Fagot, along with the brazen tom, Behemoth, dissolved into thin air, vanished as utterly as the magician had vanished earlier, together with his faded armchair.
The stage, the wall and the chairs started to fade, and they were back in front of the city gate as if the whole thing had been a hallucination. Everything was in the exact same state as when they left it. Yeshua, still on the ground, looked up to Woland.
“This is the reality,” said Woland. There was no deception in his words. The candid eyes of the devil were speaking the truth. He reached down and held Yeshua’s face with his hands. “I will leave the choice up to you. My child, you will always be welcome home.” He kissed Yeshua on the forehead and walked into the city gate.
Strolling down the bare street, Woland felt a sudden impulse to walk into a store where bread was being sold. What drove him to such an abrupt action, nobody knows. Inside, he was greeted by a charming, young woman, who seemed to be the only one working in the place. The interior of the store was quite worn out. A shelf, a desk and several dusty chairs were everything.
“Woman, I can sense that your life is full of innocence and devotion. Truly regrettable that there aren’t more people like you,” said Woland in a tender voice. He stroked his beard for moment with a contemplative face. “Let me reward you with a gift. It will be stolen by the end of the day, but until then, it will ease your burden.” With that, he magically pulled out from his back a long bread knife, neatly sharpened and handed it to her. Before the confused woman could show any sort of response, Woland grabbed a loaf of unleavened bread and exited the shop with a smile. The unexpected but pleasant encounter seemed to have affected him. Soon enough, he was back in the empty Variety Theater.
Chapter 13:The Hero Appears
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