Barabbas was old, nearing death.

Or at least he should be.

The reality of the situation was that the man had received a curse. He grimaced as he touched his sword, his only ally, hearing bandits behind him. When one receives a curse from God, it is far from your average curse, boils, transfiguration, insanity- curses from God are much worse. The bandits approached, shouting their purpose in his direction.

"We know who you are. The Levites have sent us." It was the same message every time, after all. Barabbas turned, short, Roman blade at the ready.

"Tell them they must withdraw, they must never hound me again." It was bad enough they chased him out of his own country, worse yet all the way to India. These men were natives, their clothes silken and gold, black cords stretched between each of their hands, ends wrapped around each finger thirteen times.

"They tell us you are a marked man. They say you have trespassed the covenant, betrayed their god- the invisible one. Is this true?"

"Yes." There was no more to say. Barabbas knew their traditions. These were men of Siva, and the fine robes meant they were sure to die. The strings with which they intended to kill him were used to prevent bloodshed, something they saw as unclean.

"Then you know why we are here. You know why you must die." Barabbas slashed out at the man sneaking up behind him, cutting the cord. He lunged forward to kill the next assailant, and then a third. He was strong, capable, and skilled with the sword, but by his count there were at least fifteen of them. Death would ride, ride on his pale horse and collect Barabbas's soul. Within minutes the man was surrounded. He knew their ways, how they would avoid fighting with any weapon other than cord. But it would not be enough. With but three remaining, the sable string found its way around Barabbas's damned throat and pressed tightly, forcing his faithful iron weapon out of his hand. The crude instrument clicked on the parched, rocky ground as the suffocation brought Barabbas to his knees. One of the men kicked his sword away and the condemned felt himself start to die. A sudden force collided with something above him, but he could not see with the way his head was turned. Before he knew it, he was released, thrown prostrate onto the ground, and he looked up at the man to whom he found himself kneeling. As his throat struggled to cough in the air, bloodshot eyes looked through the thick, unwashed strands of Barabbas's long, black hair, faded with strands of gray. The man looking down wore clothes unlike those of Barabbas, who had long since exchanged his prisoner's garb for native raiment. Strangely, the man reminded him of home, simple robes and familiar Middle Eastern skin, distinct from the dark tones of the men of Southern India. A heavily scarred hand reached down and helped Barabbas to his feet.

"Th-thank you." He choked. "Barabbas."

"Cain." At Barabbas's shudder, the clearly younger man raised an eyebrow.

"You're- but- I thought you were ancient-"

"This is a meeting of two men who have both heard of one another then, we have both great repute. But I cannot be sure, be not hurt by this." He stated politely.

"I wouldn't call it great repute- for either of us. We're both damned. We're cursed."

"And, so, we have attained repute by a certain crowd. But I must be certain you are who I assume you are. Tell me, why are these men chasing you?"

"The priests sent them. Or at least that's what they told me, what they said."

"While it would not be the first time Levites have hired hands and feet, we are likely looking at a private contract. But the lie stands. There must be some reason they told you this, considering they would believe you to die shortly after having heard."

"Years ago, the temple officials had me arrested. I was taken before the governor for some conspiracy charge. I also killed a man, but only when I was trying to get away. You know what they do to guys like-"

"Spare me. Now tell me, what did you say?"

"I said I'd destroy the temple, brick by brick. Somebody must've heard me, listened in."

"Everything is going to plan. Now tell me, was there anyone else with you? He would have been charged with the same crime, only he never killed anybody. I have to be certain."

"Yeah, there was this guy, pale from being beaten so badly, but underneath all that-"

"He was identical." Cain snapped.

"Yeah, an identical man, I could have sworn I was looking in a glass as they lead us down this hallway before we surfaced from the dungeon, came out of the prison."

"What happened next?"

"The governor, he addressed the crowd. He pulled this bullshit tradition out of his ass, I'd never heard of it before. Supposedly, every year, they let a guy go free for Passover and he wanted the crowd to vote. He pointed at the other guy, praised him like a god, said he was blameless, never did anything wrong in his damn life. Then he pointed at me, and he heaped every sin I'd ever committed right on top of my head, stressing the man I killed, saying I was trying to escape justice. He praised the people, shouted about their good judgment, truly I tell you, they teach you how to speak in Rome. The whole time I thought I was a dead man. I thought I'd get my ass nailed to a tree, damned for eternity, the works. I met the man's eyes. He was kneeling on the ground in pain, wasn't even moving his lips, but I could tell he was praying. All hope should have left him by now- but I crouch lower and I could see it in his eyes. Anger, pain, and… love. I… don't know how I could tell really. It was the same expression my old dad used to make when he had to hit me. I was a stupid little bitch in those days, I never cared."

"A crown- did a crown of thorns adorn his head?"

"Yeah…they must have used it to torture him or something, make him bleed."

"How did you get out of there alive? This is of paramount importance."

"Just as I decided this guy… there was no way this guy should die-certainly not on my part…I wish I could say I resigned, given in to death." Barabbas knew not why he opened up to this man in such a way. For years he had been alone, and only now did someone even speak his language.

"You were glad, were you not?"

"I don't like to admit it, I really don't. Not a day goes by I'm not sorry, but I was joyous at the slightest chance I could possibly have. But as the speech went on, I head more and more about his teachings, his words to the people."

"What was the verdict?"

"They killed him. His name was Jesus, just like mine. He was charged of the same crime, and they let me go. People threatened me, but they were determined to kill Jesus. I was out of town before I ever learned what became of him, heard of his fate."

"Jesus of Nazareth was nailed to a tree at Golgotha. He was buried in a donated tomb, and the reports say that there were no bones in it when his followers announced his resurrection."

"His followers… what ever happened to them, what was their fate?"

"They were hunted down and killed in nasty ways, or at least all but one. We'll probably never know of the rest of his life. Chances are, he ran, ran like he always did. The soldiers say he fled when Jesus was arrested in the garden. Unfortunately for the executioners, the religion spread all the same."

"What religion?"

"They call it the Christian Church."

"It's called the church of 'little Christ's'? That sounds insulting, cruel, even."

"Yes, originally it was an insult, but now it is their name." There was a pause, and Barabbas watched the other man turn around, still speaking, only having turned his gaze to the fading horizon.

"Is it true? Is your name really Cain?" came a sudden question from Barabbas.

"Yes. Do you know how long it has been since you were arrested?"

"It…can't have been more than thirty or forty years, even if it feels longer. I stopped keeping track of the days…I don't think I can anymore."

"Barabbas, you have wandered eight centuries. The world has changed since you left it behind.