“A distinguished person in Sepphoris has asked me to make inquiries about Joshua.”
“Joseph’s boy?”
“Yes.”
For a few seconds the file was silent. Then the work resumed.
“And this ‘distinguished person,’ who is he?”
“Someone whose existence it is better not to know about.”
“I see. It appears you have acquired strange friends in the city.”
“He is not a friend.” Noah reached out his hand and let the fingers close over the padlock. “Believe me, Grandfather. I do not wish to be the Tetrarch’s spy, but I need to speak to Joshua, if only that he may know his danger.”
Noah lifted his hand from the padlock.
“How is Sarah?”
“She is well.”
The old man nodded, if only to indicate that they understood each other.
“That cloth merchant of Sarah’s should make up his mind. If he waits much longer, she will be past bearing his children.”
“She is only six and twenty, and besides, I do not think it is his mind that needs making up. She seems to think I will perish if she is not there to look after me.”
“Time you remarried.”
Noah could only shrug. He knew what was coming next.
“Your wife has been dead four years,” his grandfather went on. “There must be an end to everything, even mourning. Find another who pleases you, and then you can go on with your life. And so can Sarah.”
He folded a piece of cloth around the padlock and laid it aside.
“God has not blessed us,” he said. “Not you, not me, not Joseph. Your father died younger than you are now. Joshua’s wife too is dead, and I believe grief has turned his mind.”
“Joseph has other sons.”
“Sometimes I believe God has cursed this family.”
“I do not believe that.”
Perhaps the old man felt that the subject had exhausted itself. Perhaps, as sometimes happened, he merely lost the thread of the conversation. In any case, for perhaps a quarter of a minute he appeared to stare at nothing, then he shrugged and changed the subject.
* * *
Noah slept that night in his grandfather’s house. He did not return to Sepphoris, but directed his steps north.
About three hours from Capernaum the road made a long detour around a line of hills, adding several miles to the journey. There was, however, a well-worn path, too steep for wagons but easy enough for a man on foot, which cut across. It was just at the summit of this path that Noah encountered a robber.
Obviously the robber was not experienced at his trade, since he remained sitting on a large stone, a pruning hook balanced on his knees, even when Noah stopped within five paces of him.
“Peace be yours,” Noah said, regarding the man with no emotion more stirring than curiosity. He was young, probably no older than sixteen. The red rims of his eyes showed luridly through the dust that covered his face enough to give him a corpselike appearance. He was obviously a peasant and just as obviously had been on the road for several days. That could only mean one thing.
“Peace be yours,” he answered, and then, apparently as an afterthought, added, “If you have any money, give it to me.”
His hand closed around the staff on his pruning hook, which was perhaps intended to be interpreted as a threatening gesture, but he made no attempt to rise. In fact, he seemed exhausted.
It occurred to Noah that he had merely to step forward a few paces and kick the fellow in the chest to send him sprawling.
“You mean to rob me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“With a pruning hook?”
The youth looked away, as if embarrassed, and Noah almost laughed, but restrained himself out of respect for his feelings.
He did smile, however. He couldn’t help himself. The situation was ludicrous.
“I have bread and cheese and even a little wine,” he said. “Enough to share. You will need to fortify yourself if you plan to lead a life of crime.”
Noah walked up to where the man was sitting and opened his pouch. He held it out, along with his wineskin, but at first the man made no move to take them. He merely stared at them, as if he doubted the witness of his own eyes.
“Come. Eat.”
The words seemed to snap the youth out of his trance. He took the wineskin, upending it to let the contents pour into his mouth. He had nearly drained it before he stopped, after which he let out a long sigh, as if he had been holding his breath, which perhaps he had. Then he took a flat piece of bread from the pouch and began tearing off pieces, which he stuffed into his mouth.
Noah sat down beside him, for the rock was long and flat, almost like a bench. A lifetime of hammering red-hot iron had given him such strength in his hands and arms that at any time he could have broken this would-be brigand’s neck like a stick of kindling wood, but he was not one who thought in such terms, and he felt only pity.
“How have you come to this?” he asked.
The youth paused for a moment, staring out at nothing as, apparently, he gathered his thoughts.
“My father lost his land,” he said finally. “The last few years have been hard, and he had to borrow. A week ago the moneylender came with writing that said he owned the land now. He told my father he could stay and work for wages. He took my sister for a kitchen servant. He had no work for me, so I had to leave. It was either starve or steal, so I thought I would head north and join the bandits.”
“If you join them, all you can expect is to be caught in a few years and crucified.”
“Better a bad death a few years hence than a bad death now.”
Noah seemed to consider this and then nodded. The logic was unassailable.
“But the bandits won’t take you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have nothing to offer them.” Noah shrugged, seeming to imply that the point was obvious. “Look at you. You don’t have a horse, you don’t have a weapon. Why should they trouble to supply you with either when every day ruined farmers make the trek into the mountains, hoping to join them. Probably, they will cut your throat.”
“Then what am I to do?”
“That is the question, isn’t it.”
They sat together for a time without speaking. The wine was gone, which Noah chided himself for resenting. After all, in three hours he would be in Capernaum, where he could drink all the wine he wanted. This poor soul might never taste wine again.
Then a thought occurred to him.
“I have a friend in Ptolemais,” he said. “He is a merchant, and I have done business with him for years. He owns warehouses and a couple of ships. His name is Kreon. He is a Greek but a good sort of man. Just ask for him along the wharves. If you tell him that Noah the metalsmith from Sepphoris sent you, he will give you work.”
“Where is Ptolemais?”
“It is on the coast of the Great Sea. If you walk west, keeping Mount Carmel on your left, and then turn north when you reach the sea, you will find it. You will be there tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
Perhaps the same thought was in both their minds: How was this wretched, spent man to walk to Ptolemais, in one day or even five?
Noah fetched his purse from under his belt and counted out five silver shekels and then, after a moment’s reflection on God’s hatred of avarice, another five. To these he added a scattering of copper coins.
The man glanced at the money resting in Noah’s palm and raised his hand as if to fend it off.
“Keep it,” he said in an offended tone.
“I see. It would have been more honorable to have killed me with your pruning hook and then stolen my purse. I commend your scruples.”
This was received with a cold silence.
“Listen, my friend. By assisting you I find favor with God, so in refusing out of pride you do that which injures us both. Besides, the day may come when you will be able to render me an even greater serv
ice.”
He took the man’s hand and poured the coins into it.
“Take these,” he said. “Rest in the first village you find. The copper will be enough for a bed and food for a few days. Do not show anyone the silver. In Ptolemais, bathe and buy clean clothes so that you do not come to Kreon as a beggar.”
“My name is Samson,” the man said. It seemed to be his way of offering thanks.
“Then be careful in the city, lest they cut your hair.”
7
When Noah arrived in Capernaum, he found he was more tired from the journey than he had expected, and he was hungry. In the market he discovered a wineshop where he could also buy a dinner of fish and millet, so by sundown he was feeling better.
“Come a long way, have you?” asked the proprietor as he cleared away the dishes and poured Noah a second cup of the local beer. It was his business to be sociable, but there was an edge of suspicion in the question. He was a large man who carried the extra flesh that only comes with prosperity. The threadlike scars on his fingers indicated that he had begun life as a fisherman.
“I left Sepphoris this morning.”
“I’ve never been there. I’ve been to Tiberias three times, but never Sepphoris. It’s quite a city, from what people say.”
“I live there.”
The proprietor frowned. Noah suspected that he felt cheated. If he had known, the man would have charged more for the meal.
“Do you know of a place where I could find a bed for a few days?”
“I might be able to oblige you.” His eyes narrowed as he seemed to be straining after a way to accommodate a man wealthy enough to live in Sepphoris. “I don’t know where else you might go—people hereabouts don’t generally care for strangers.”
Noah smiled and nodded agreement. With that settled, it seemed a propitious moment to inquire after his real business.
“I have a cousin,” he said. “The last I heard of him, he was living somewhere here. I wonder if you know of him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Joshua bar Joseph.”
“This cousin, he’s from Sepphoris?”
“No. From Nazareth. That’s a village just south of Sepphoris.”
“And his name is Joshua?” The proprietor appeared to consider all this, and then suddenly the expression on his face changed, as if something unpleasant had just occurred to him.
“You don’t mean the preacher, do you?”
“It seems likely enough. He’s a tall man. He used to be a carpenter.”
“That’s him. He’s been making a nuisance of himself around here for a couple of months now. You say he’s kin of yours?”
Noah had the distinct impression that the price of hospitality had just gone up, so he reached into his purse and took out three silver shekels, one after the other, and placed them in a row on the table.
“You will put me in your debt if you can tell me where to find him.”
* * *
The sun was just at the horizon when Noah saw a man sitting in the sand by the water’s edge, leaning back against an overturned fishing boat. Even at a distance of a hundred paces, he knew it was Joshua.
He sat down beside him. He could make out little except his profile, with its high forehead and eye sockets deep enough that the darkness seemed to gather in them. Joshua gave no sign that he noticed his presence until Noah used his thumb to break the clay seal on the wine jar he was carrying with him. In his other hand were two small cups. He filled them both and offered one to his cousin.
“Where did you buy this?” Joshua asked. “Or did you simply scoop it up from a puddle of donkey piss?”
Noah laughed quietly and threw his arm across Joshua’s shoulders.
“And hello to you,” he said.
For a time they drank in silence. It was a warm evening, and the sound of waves lapping against the shore was agreeable. Neither wished to break the spell with questions that could have only unpleasant answers.
“Where did you buy this?”
Joshua held his cup out to be refilled.
“I don’t notice that you are reluctant to drink it.”
Joshua tasted the wine again and made a face, which was just visible in the gathering darkness.
“That is because it is your wine. Should I ever again have a few copper coins of my own to spend, I want to know what places to avoid.”
“This one is just off the main square. It has a green awning.”
“By chance is the owner a big, stout man?”
“Yes.”
“Noah, you have an unerring instinct for trouble. His name is Ezra and he used to be a fisherman, until he married the previous owner’s widow. She is ten years older than he, so perhaps she wasn’t inclined to be fastidious. For a brief time she listened to my message, and perhaps it made some impression. Needless to say, he is not one of the saved.”
“So I gathered.”
“Does he know you are my cousin?”
“Yes, but for a consideration he will overlook it. I have a bed there.”
“You will probably find yourself sleeping on the roof. The weather this close to the sea can be freakish, so let us pray it does not rain.”
The idea seemed to amuse him, and he laughed. Then, suddenly, the laughter stopped.
“What are you doing here, Noah?”
“I have come as a spy for Antipas. He wants to know if he should have you arrested.”
“No—really. What are you doing here?”
“That is the reason.”
So Noah told him about Caleb. Joshua listened and then said, “I do not know this man.”
“Believe me, it is my hope that you never will. If the rumors are to be believed, he is the one who put the Baptist to death.”
“Then why have you come?”
“Because I have no choice and because if I do not someone else will. I, however, being your cousin, will report that you are a harmless crank who preaches repentance and that nobody listens to you anyway. Besides, I felt you should be warned.”
“I am safe enough here.”
“You cannot imagine how reassured I am.”
“You worry too much, Noah.” Joshua reached back and rapped his knuckles against the hull of the boat. “How long would it take me to have this in the water? And on the other shore Antipas has no authority?
“They might surprise you before you can get to a boat.”
“No. This town is like a drum—the slightest tap is heard everywhere within. Should Antipas send men for me, someone would tell me of it before they had left the main road. The Tetrarch is not popular hereabouts.”
“What are you doing here, Joshua?”
“Getting drunk with you.”
Joshua laughed at his own joke, and then suddenly he stood up.
“Come along,” he said, holding out his hand to help Noah to his feet. “Let’s walk. You can tell me your news. Has Sarah found a husband yet?”
They followed the shore. It was dark by then, but there was a long streak of moonlight across the water, enough to light their way. They took off their sandals and let the waves wash over their feet. It was as if they were boys again.
“How do you live here?”
“Simply.” Joshua smiled, as if it were the answer to a riddle. “I have made the great discovery that a man, no less than a sparrow, needs little to be content. A friend of mine, who is a fisherman, keeps a bed for me. I am invited everywhere to dinner. Enough people listen to me that one or another will supply anything I may happen to need. The Baptist lived on locusts and wild honey and drank nothing but water. I am not so pure a soul as he was, but I am learning. I have stopped worrying about my little wants because I know that I live under God’s protection.”
“And this is enough for you?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “Yes and no. Now and then, when I remember Rachel, I have a twinge of regret, but in time I hope to overcome even that. God took her from me for a reason. Besides, very soon
I will have her back.”
Noah risked a glance at him. There was only moonlight, but he knew that face well enough to sense its perfect composure.
“Do you believe that death is final?” Joshua asked, without turning his head. Noah thought there might be a faint smile on his lips.
“I don’t know.” Suddenly Noah remembered his own dead wife. “I hope not.”
“The Pharisees teach that one day the graves will yield up their dead. The Baptist believed it. I believe it. And I know that day is not far off.”
8
They talked until late into the night. Then Joshua said that he wished to be alone to pray and Noah went back into the town to find his bed at the wineshop.
To do him justice, Ezra provided a cot near the remains of the kitchen fire, and Noah would have slept soundly had he been able to still the whir of thoughts racing through his mind.
The most troubling thing was Joshua’s utter sincerity. It was impossible to listen to him and not be convinced that he believed the will of God had been revealed to him, and such was the force of that conviction that it was very difficult to stand against it.
But when had it ever been any different?
Once, when they were children, Joshua had somehow conceived the idea that Moses was the father of King David, whom he identified with his grandfather’s father, who had recently died and whose name had been David. From this he concluded that his own grandfather must be king of Israel, which he identified with Nazareth. Thus Joseph, and then he, would in turn become kings.
Noah expressed doubts, so eventually the question was referred to his grandfather, who, with becoming gravity, explained everything.
“Can you count to ten, Joshua?”
“Yes.”
“And if you have ten tens, how many is that?”
“I don’t know—a lot.”
“Ten tens make a hundred. And ten hundreds make a thousand. That is how many years since the time of King David. In those days Nazareth did not even exist.
“None of our family will be kings, Joshua, and that is well. For the children of Israel should have no king but God.”
Joshua accepted this, since it never occurred to him that Uncle Benjamin could be wrong about anything, but for three days he would not even speak to Noah.
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