The Israelite General of Light paced in front of the portal, trying to contain the might that had enabled him singlehandedly to rescue Moses' body from the Prince of Darkness, and to hold off the Persian General of Darkness until Gabriel finished bringing the King's message to Daniel. As never before, Michael longed to unleash that strength against the enemies of the King he loved. On the earth below, the Prince of Light, the King's Son, no less loved than His Father, knelt beside a large rock, engaged in a desperate mental struggle with the forces of evil. So far, victory was His as it had always been before, but it was hard-won, and His enemies were gathering reinforcements to the olive grove where the battle was taking place. That matchless strength of spirit that had never quailed was fading, and, as little as Michael understood about humans, even he could see that the Prince's frail body was in critical condition. If something was not done soon the unthinkable would happen: the Prince of Light would die.
Soldiers crowded all around Michael, pressing as close to the portal as his restless pacing allowed, waiting for one word from him to launch them into action, but he could not give them that word. The orders He'd received were stern: this battle belonged to the Prince. No matter what happened below, no one was to interfere unless He called for help. Every ear strained to hear His call, but so far it had not come.
Now the enemy were drawing back at last to the edges of the grove, and the Prince sank wearily to the ground with His back against the rock. In a choked voice, barely to be heard by human ears had any been nearby, He gasped out a single word. "Gabriel."
Instantly, Michael stepped aside and the chosen helper flew through the portal, faster than ever before, and reached the Prince's side. Gabriel whispered to Him words meant for His ears alone, so no one above could hear them, but they seemed to give Him strength. With Gabriel's aid, the Prince struggled to His feet and made His way toward His closest human companions, who were all sleeping, having disregarded His repeated plea that they recognize the battle going on around them. Michael shook his head over the blindness of those three men and of human beings in general, but his attention was quickly caught by something just outside the grove.
A small band of humans was making its sinister way up the hill, accompanied and vastly outnumbered by the dark shadows of the enemy. It was the largest army of evil that Michael had seen gathered together in the past several centuries at least, and it was headed straight for the exhausted Prince of Light. Then he saw him: the Prince of Darkness himself was coming, leading the army from within the body of one of the twelve men who had been the almost-constant companions of the Prince of Light for the past three years. The call had still not come, but surely it would not be long. Michael must be ready for the hardest battle he had fought since the day of the original rebellion. He whirled toward the soldiers who crowded around him.
In short, crisp sentences, he barked orders to the Captains present, designating which one of their thirteen legions would deal with the unpossessed humans who were with the enemy and which one would get the Prince's remaining human companions out of danger. Then he told off three legions of archers to remain at the portal, which he enlarged with a wave of his hand, and fire unceasingly on the enemy below. After the first volley, three legions of spears were to charge into the fight in a body and break the enemy formation. The other five legions, under Michael's own leadership, would try to reach the Prince and lend Him the support of their flaming swords.
In a moment, all was ready. Michael stood by the portal with his sword blazing in his right hand, waiting for the Prince's call for help. Every soldier's eye was fixed on him, every bowstring taut, every spear aimed, and every sword drawn.
Gabriel flew back through the portal, surveyed the scene, and wordlessly took up his usual post at Michael's side, ready to carry the General's messages during the battle. Slowly, he started to draw his long dagger, then shook his head and shoved it back in the sheath. Something about his downcast face and slow, almost hesitant movements caught Michael's attention, and he opened his mouth to murmur a concerned inquiry, but then the evil forces below entered the grove and surrounded the Prince of Light, and Michael's eyes snapped to His face, watching for the signal that must come now.
At that moment the King entered the room, and everyone sank to their knees before Him. Ignoring them all, He stepped to the portal and looked out, shrinking it so that He alone could see what went on below, and the pain on His royal countenance shook Michael to the core. Then He spoke, and though His voice was pitched very low, it carried to every soldier in the room.
"Do nothing except on My command, Michael."
"Yes Lord," Michael responded heavily.
Hours passed, and Michael's only clue to the course of the battle came from watching his King's face. To his growing horror, it was streaming with tears. Through all the times that His creation had hurt Him by rejecting Him and His life-giving instructions, and all the times He had had to inflict pain on His beloved Israel to bring her back to Himself, Michael had often seen Him weep, but never like this. His tears flowed like a river as He stood there at the portal. Michael could only imagine what awful things must be happening in the olive grove.
Then the King stepped back from the portal and turned to His waiting servants. "There will be no rescue," he commanded, and strode away toward His personal quarters, presumably to create a new portal in which to watch the events more privately. As He left and they rose to their feet, the portal expanded to its fullest extent, so that they could all see what was happening.
The view no longer showed the olive grove where the Prince loved to spend time alone with His Father, but the courtyard of the Roman governor's palace. The Prince of Light walked into the courtyard, surrounded by both Roman soldiers and those of the Prince of Darkness. His hands were bound in front of Him and the evil ones whispered mocking words in His ears, but He walked with His head held high and paid no heed to His Dark enemies. Yet He was very pale, and as His eye fell on the stake in the middle of the courtyard and the dark stains on the pavement, all the remaining color drained from His face. Michael had seen enough of humans to know that such a thing signaled great fear, but surely the Prince of Light could not be afraid!
Then Michael saw the Roman soldiers leading Him toward the stake and fastening His hands to its top, and he suddenly remembered what he had seen happen in this courtyard many times before. The flame of his sword burned fiercely in his hand, but he dared not step through the portal without orders. Instead he gripped Gabriel's shoulder with his free hand and waited for the Prince to cry out to His Father for help, or else to walk through the midst of His enemies and escape as He had done on a few previous occasions.
The Romans took out their scourges and bared His royal back, but the Prince did nothing to stop them. Then the first blow fell. His body jerked with the pain, and all His watching soldiers cried out in sympathy and horror, but still He made no sound.
The beating continued for what seemed hours to Michael, until it almost appeared that there was more blood on the ground than in the Prince's body. Everyone in the portal room was weeping by now. Michael could not imagine why the order had not been given to stop this brutal torture of their pure and spotless Prince.
Pure and spotless—! Suddenly Michael realized what he had been seeing, or rather not seeing, ever since the King had expanded the portal. The Prince's Light was gone! His soul was as Dark as that of any other human being on the face of the earth. To human eyes that Light had always been invisible, but Michael and the rest of the King's soldiers could see it, and they had always thought it more a part of Him than His human body, or even His powerful voice. To find it gone was the worst shock of this terrible day. No wonder He had not been rescued, but how could this have happened? Michael turned to Gabriel and saw at a glance that he too had noticed. Gabriel nodded toward Michael's sword, and he choked on a sob as he sheathed it.
Several soldiers saw the defeated action and let out a cry of protest, but Michael simply pointed to the Prince and sank to his knees, overcome with grief, and one after another saw what he had seen and told others, until the whole room knew that the Prince of Light was full of Darkness now.
When the beating was over, the Romans led their prisoner into the barracks and tormented him further by making a mockery of the royal title He held, but Michael no longer waited desperately for a signal he knew would not come. Now he knelt on the floor, weeping as he watched, and hoping only for some clue to the reason for it all.
Finally, the Prince was led back to the governor, who seemed to take pity when he saw the terrible state He was in. Perhaps hoping that the Jews would feel the same way, He led the Prince out to the judgment area and showed Him to the crowd.
Every soldier in the portal room gasped in fresh horror at their reply: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" The Jewish leaders would have no argument, no lightening of the sentence they demanded. Nothing the governor said moved them, and the Prince said nothing at all. When the governor saw that he could not persuade them, he was silent for a long moment. Michael wondered if it were possible that he would exert his Roman authority to release the Prince against the will of the crowd. Then one of the Dark shadows behind the governor leaned forward and whispered in his ear. He shuddered, and Michael knew all was lost.
"Have it your own way," he said, and nodded to his soldiers to take the Prince away, as a collective wail went up from the portal room.
The deed was done, and the incomparable Prince of Light hung on a cross like the thing of Darkness He seemed to have become, dying a shameful, brutal death, with His rightful title posted like an insult above His head: THE KING OF THE JEWS. The Roman soldiers gambled for His few garments, leaving Him with nothing at all to cover Him, and those who passed by mocked Him for supposedly not being able to save Himself. Their words stung the watchers in the portal room, since even now they would gladly have taken His place if He had given them a choice in the matter.
One of the robbers dying beside Him was staring intently at Him, as well as he could through the pain of his body. The robber looked around at the jeering people, up at the sign above the Prince's head, and back at the Prince, and a spark of Light was kindled in the depths of his soul. Michael had seen that same spark many times in the souls of the King's people, and its appearance had always been cause for great rejoicing among those watching in the portal room, but now all he could manage was a half-smile through his tears. Another human soul had been snatched from the jaws of Hades, this one just barely in time, yet who could rejoice when the Prince no longer had even that spark, let alone the brilliant Light that had shone from Him for all the four thousand years of Michael's life?
Then the newly-forgiven robber turned to the other and rebuked him for joining in the mockery of the Prince. Having silenced his former companion, he asked the Prince to remember him when He came into His Kingdom. Michael saw incredulous looks on the faces of all the humans who heard the request, even those who had the spark of Light in their souls, and he could understand why. The Prince was dying. For any human being to believe in His coming kingdom in spite of that fact showed very great faith, and Michael marveled at the man.
Through His physical and spiritual agony, the Prince managed to gasp a promise that the man would be with Him in Paradise that day, and this time Michael really did smile. He could not help it; the joy on the man's face transcended even the torture of the cross, and no soldier of the King could be unmoved by it. Besides, the Prince had as good as said that He would Himself be in Paradise that day, which eased Michael's half-acknowledged fear that the Darkness of His soul would prevent Him from entering.
A few moments later one of the Roman soldiers, drunk on sour wine, stumbled into the Prince's cross, shaking him badly. The Prince bit back a cry, but His Father did not. The King's cry of bitter agony echoed across the halls of Heaven, and the light of the sun blinked out.
For three hours all was dark below, except for the sparks in a few human souls. Finally, out of the Darkness came a voice Michael knew well, though he had never thought to hear such despair in its tone.
"My God!" the Prince shouted. "My God! Why have You forsaken Me?" A moment later, he added in a far weaker voice, "I thirst."
Someone dipped a soldier's bath sponge in vinegar and held it up to Him on a stick. While He sucked moisture from it, apparently thirsty enough to accept even this shamefully disgusting drink, Gabriel turned hastily to Michael.
"He will die in a minute," he said, ignoring the gasp of mingled relief and sorrow that greeted his words. "Michael, the instant He passes, the Temple veil has to tear open, and we must have a major earthquake in the Jerusalem area. Rocks splitting, tombs broken open, that sort of thing. I'll take care of the veil, but I can't do the earthquake alone."
"I'm on it," Michael replied, and nodded to one of the Captains to accompany him with his legion. In a few seconds the legion was stationed around the city, ready to shake it at the critical moment. Michael had managed to place himself quite near Golgotha so that he could hear most of what went on.
No sooner was he in position than he heard a soft but triumphant gasp from the Prince. "It is finished!" Then in a louder voice, "Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit."
A second later, Michael felt his heart seized by a horrible sense of loss, such as he had not experienced even when a third of his companions chose to become his bitter enemies. He knew it meant that the Prince was dead. He pushed aside the sluggishness that came with the emotion and threw himself into creating the earthquake Gabriel had said they needed. As he did so, he imagined the Prince's broken body hanging naked on that cross, His spirit gone, and he wept at his work.
When Michael and the legion returned to the portal room, the soldiers there seemed strangely excited. He asked why, but they only pointed to the portal. When he looked out at the hill and the three crosses, he saw what had caught the others' attention. The new believer gasping for breath on the cross, the Prince's closest human companion weeping on the hilltop, the Prince's mother sobbing in His companion's arms, in fact every human being in whom he had seen the spark of Light, now shone with a Light equal to his own! Then the centurion in command of the crucifixion looked around in the returning sunlight at the dead Prince, the broken boulders, and the people slowly picking themselves up off the ground, and that same Light began to shine from him also.
Michael stared, astounded beyond belief. How could sinful human beings have the Light of the holy ones? A joyful laugh startled him, and he turned to see Gabriel step through the portal, sheathing his dagger.
"Why do you think I tore the Temple veil?" he asked.
"How can you laugh?" Michael asked brokenly.
Gabriel's face softened and he put his hand on the other's shoulder in reassurance. "Michael, you don't understand. His task is done. We don't have to grieve anymore."
'"It is finished,'" the General quoted softly. "He sounded so triumphant when He said that. But what is finished?"
"This!" Gabriel gestured to the shining humans beyond the portal. "All the King's people have been made holy! The King no longer sees them as the sinners they choose to be, but as the saints He has made them, through the Prince's blood. The deed my dagger sufficed to accomplish in the earthly Temple was only a symbol, a picture for the human priests to see. The real deed was the tearing of the heavenly veil, and it took the death of our Prince to do that. Access to the King's presence is finally available to humans!"
Michael gripped his companion's arm. "Gabriel, where is He now?"
At that, the messenger's joy subsided visibly. "I don't know. I think He's still dead."
"Not for long! Can you imagine death holding its Creator back once His task is done?" He shook his head over the absurd idea. "Keep watching. He'll be back soon."
Early on the morning after the next, Michael was startled at his duties by Gabriel's shout from the portal room.
"He's alive!"
Then he heard the King's joyous voice calling, "Michael!"
In an instant, Michael was in the portal room, kneeling before the King. "I am at Your service, Lord!" Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Prince standing beside His empty graveclothes, smiling broadly, His soul shining as brightly as ever. He folded the napkin that had covered His face, laid it aside, and walked out through the wall of the tomb, bypassing the sealed and guarded door. Michael grinned as the view shifted to the outside, where four oblivious Romans stood vigilantly guarding the now-empty tomb.
"We need another of those earthquakes you are so good at causing," the King explained, grinning back at His General. "This time, keep it to the garden itself, but get that tomb open, and scare the guards a bit while you're at it. My Son's friends need to be able to get in there to see that the body is gone."
"Yes, Lord. Shall I scare the guards with the earthquake or the sight of me?"
"Oh, both."
With that, the King walked out, leaving Michael thrilled over the rare opportunity to let himself be seen by living humans. He exchanged a quick thumbs-up with Gabriel and flew through the portal. As he landed, he suddenly became visible to the guards, who shook with terror. Hiding his smile, Michael strode heavily toward the tomb, causing the garden to quake violently with every step.
They had done a decent job of sealing the place against human grave-robbers, he had to admit, but then, Michael was neither human nor a grave-robber. With a quick shove, he rolled the stone away from the door, breaking the seal. Then, just to add to the impression, he sat down on the stone as if on a judgment seat. That did it; the guards fainted dead away. Michael laughed softly. "If only the soldiers of Darkness would respond to me that way!" he thought.
A second later, he hastily became invisible as he heard human footsteps approaching. It was several of the women Michael had often seen with the Prince over the past three years. They were weeping bitterly for their dead Lord, not yet realizing that the tomb was empty. Remembering that he was safely invisible, Michael allowed himself a broad grin of anticipation. Any moment now, the women would discover the glorious truth, and the General could hardly wait to see their joy!