The Ironsmith

by Nicholas Guild

  “This is true. God is our refuge,” Noah said.

  He felt Deborah’s hand turn under his own, and the fingers close around his thumb. She understood.

  “But we are not vessels of light,” he went on, a strange sadness filling him as he contemplated his cousin’s face. “We are not the angels who surround His throne. We are only men and women, and to each of us God in His mercy gave the other, to support us in our imperfection. Even in God’s kingdom we are still only men and women.”

  Joshua made no reply, and the conversation drifted in other directions, but the mood of their little celebration remained somehow darkened. Soon, on the pretext that tomorrow’s journey would be long, it broke up.

  “Shall I walk you back to Simon’s house?” Noah asked, with a cheerfulness he did not feel.

  “No.” Joshua shook his head, as if he had just reached a decision. “I won’t go there—at least not for a while. I need to pray.”

  “Good night then.”

  They parted, and after a few steps Noah stopped and turned to watch his cousin’s departing figure as it faded into the darkness.

  “He has become a stranger,” he thought, “someone I do not know. When, I wonder, did that happen?”

  * * *

  The next morning, at first light, Noah found Deborah’s door already open. He heard the sound of women’s voices within, so, as he was leading a donkey, he called out. Deborah appeared almost at once, carrying a small bundle, presumably of clothes, and a wineskin.

  “I am ready,” she said, smiling in a way that made his heart clench. Then she looked at the donkey and noticed that there were no packs on its back.

  “I thought perhaps you would find the journey less tiring if you could ride.”

  “Would the donkey find it less tiring?”

  “The donkey is accustomed to far heavier burdens than you.”

  “I think I would sooner walk.”

  For reasons he could not define, Noah found himself elated by her answer.

  “Then at least the donkey can carry your luggage.”

  “In that case, I’ll go pack another bundle.”

  She disappeared inside, and when she came back a few minutes later she found that Joshua had turned up with five of his disciples—the Thunder Brothers, Simon, Levi the former tax collector, and Judah.

  “We shall need another wineskin.”

  “Probably two,” Noah answered her. He did not seem pleased by this increase in the number of their traveling companions.

  “And food—we shall need more food.”

  “Oh yes.”

  When she returned with the extra provisions, Hannah was with her. Hannah was in tears as the two women embraced.

  “We shall see each other again in Sepphoris very soon,” Deborah told her. “Noah will make arrangements for your journey.”

  “I shall miss your wedding.”

  “Perhaps. But I shall not miss yours.”

  This brought on another flood of lamentation, and Deborah herself was close to weeping by the time they set off. She said not a word until they were outside of Capernaum and on the road south.

  “Tell me again about this apprentice of yours.”

  Noah found he was almost startled by the sound of her voice.

  “His name is Hiram and he is a good fellow. He is past twenty and has learned as much as he ever will, but he wishes to stay with me until after the Passover. The plan is that he will then set up on his own. I will help him with tools and a little money, which was my understanding with his father when he was apprenticed to me. When he finds a workspace, I will also help him to build his forge.”

  “In Sepphoris?”

  “Yes. Like me, he was born there.”

  “He will be your competitor?”

  This made Noah laugh. “There is work enough in Sepphoris for two ironsmiths.”

  “Do you think they will like each other?”

  “That is up to them.” He brought Deborah’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “In a week or so I will send him up to fetch Hannah. They will have plenty of time to become acquainted.”

  “She is very young. He will not…”

  “No, nothing like that. As I said, he is a good fellow, and he wants a wife. It is a thing one can sense.”

  “Was it a thing you sensed about yourself?”

  There was a playfulness in her words, which Noah was glad to hear.

  “Not until I saw you,” he answered, kissing her hand again.

  They were left to themselves as they walked along. Joshua seemed to prefer the company of his disciples, who made an appreciative audience for his many jests—their talk was constantly punctuated by laughter. During the first hour he never so much as glanced back at them.

  Their party was following a footpath that crossed over a hill. The hill was low and wide, like a loaf of bread, and the main road made a long detour around it. On the other side, Capernaum would disappear from sight.

  “Can one see Sepphoris from here?” Deborah asked, when they had reached the summit.

  “No.” Noah shook his head, struggling to conceal his amusement. “The day will be half gone before we see Sepphoris, and then only as a smudge on the horizon.”

  “Can one see it from Nazareth?”

  “No. There are hills in the way. Are you so eager?”

  “Of course. I have never seen any great city. Sepphoris will be my home. I cannot help but be curious.”

  “It is not so vast a place. As soon as it pleases you, I will take you for a stroll around the walls. Believe me, you will not find the exercise tiring.”

  “You cannot judge what a girl brought up in Capernaum will think vast.”

  “That is true.”

  The road south curved around the base of the hill and then ran straight south for almost as far as the eye could see. It was empty except for an indistinct cluster of movement some five or six miles away.

  “Joshua. I think we should stop here for a few moments. It would be just as well if everyone sat down.”

  Joshua was in the midst of telling a story. He stopped and turned to face Noah, seemed about to say something, and then apparently changed his mind. The expression on his face was somewhere between impatience and bewilderment.

  Noah merely pointed, and Joshua followed the gesture with his eyes.

  “Yes?” Joshua said at last.

  “Sit down,” Noah commanded, and everyone obeyed—even, at last, Joshua.

  “They’re riding horses.”

  Joshua, whose eyesight was better suited to distance, nodded agreement.

  “How many, do you think?” Noah asked.

  “Four … no, five.” Joshua brought his right hand up to about shoulder level and made a gesture as if counting. “Yes, five. And they are keeping their horses to a walk. See how little dust they raise?”

  “Five men on horseback. That means the likelihood is they are either soldiers or brigands.” Noah allowed himself a syllable of bitter laughter. “Not that the distinction is much worth drawing.”

  “What should we do?” Deborah asked. It was clear from her tone that she was not yet greatly alarmed. She put her hand on Noah’s arm.

  “Wait here. Perhaps they haven’t seen us yet, and even if they have, the trail is too steep for horses. I think it unlikely that they will clamber all the way up here on foot on the off chance we might have something to compensate them for their trouble.”

  Simon nodded vigorously. “We have the advantage of height,” he said, almost triumphantly. “Even if they are armed, there are plenty of stones lying about. We could make a mess of them before they came anywhere near us.”

  “We will not resist evil with evil.”

  Joshua looked his disciple full in the face, that he might know the full weight of the rebuke. Simon clearly felt it, for he lowered his eyes.

  For a moment the only sound was the faint stirring of the wind.

  “It is not evil to defend oneself,” Noah said. “And, in any
case, this does not seem the moment to be discussing ethics.”

  “What better time?” Joshua smiled, as if he had made a jest. “God’s commandments exist for occasions precisely like this. And God commands that we resist evil with good.”

  “Then let us hope they do not come up here, so the matter will not have to be put to the test.”

  Noah touched Deborah’s arm and pointed to a large boulder only five or six feet away.

  “I want you to crawl over there and conceal yourself. They are still far enough away that they won’t notice one person’s movements.”

  Deborah nodded and started toward the boulder on her hands and knees. She must have been frightened, but she did not betray any sign of it.

  The thought flitted through Noah’s mind that if he died this day he would miss a lifetime of happiness with her.

  “There is nothing gained from sitting here,” Joshua announced. “We have little enough worth stealing.”

  “There are men in this world who will kill you to steal your sandals.”

  “We all live at God’s sufferance, Noah.”

  “And a man should not try God’s patience.”

  “Nevertheless…”

  Joshua stood up. Almost at once the riders halted.

  “They have seen you. Congratulations.”

  “In any case, they would have seen us soon enough. I think we might as well go down to meet them.”

  Noah started to say something and then thought better of it, for he realized that Joshua was right. The great thing was to keep these men away from Deborah.

  He glanced at her and smiled.

  “No matter what happens, do not move,” he said. “They will not come up here for nothing, so they must not see you. Promise me that you will stay just where you are. Promise me that you will not even turn your head to look, no matter what.”

  “I promise.”

  By then all the men were on their feet. The disciples looked nervous. Judah occupied himself with brushing the dust from the skirt of his tunic. Levi seemed ready to flee in panic.

  “There is nothing to fear.” The expression on Joshua’s face reflected a perfect serenity of mind. “God holds us cradled in His hand.”

  The walk down the hill occupied about a quarter of an hour. Joshua took the lead. No one spoke. Noah observed that Simon clutched in his right hand a stone about the size of an apple.

  “Drop it, Simon,” said Joshua. “Let it go, along with your fear.” He had not so much as turned his head. Suddenly he laughed.

  “Let that be your new name,” he said. “From this day on, you shall be called ‘the Rock.’”

  When they reached the road they had to wait until the horsemen, who seemed in no hurry, overtook them.

  As they approached, it became obvious that these were not soldiers. They were dressed like peasants, which meant, it being a reasonable assumption that a poor man in possession of a horse had probably stolen it, that they were brigands.

  “Good morning,” Joshua said, as soon as they were close enough to save him the trouble of shouting. “God be with you.”

  None of them answered. The lead rider cocked his head a little to one side and smiled in apparent amusement. It was not a reassuring smile.

  When they were about ten paces away, they allowed their horses to drift to a halt. Their faces and clothes were caked with dust, as if they had been on the move for several days. In their gray-brown anonymity, they hardly seemed human. But for their eyes, which were still alive, they seemed as menacing and insubstantial as ghosts.

  A few of them carried swords slung across their backs, so that the hilts were visible over their shoulders, and no doubt the others all had some sort of weapon.

  “These roads aren’t safe for unarmed men,” said the horseman who had found Joshua’s greeting such a jest. He was tall, and so thin that his legs, which were bare up to the middle of his thighs, looked spindly and useless, as if they would collapse the instant they had to bear the weight of his body. “It could be all your lives are worth to be out here unprotected.”

  He seemed to enjoy a reputation as a wit among his comrades, for an appreciative ripple of laughter could be heard behind him.

  “We are not unprotected,” Joshua answered him.

  “No?”

  “No. God, Who sees all, is our protection.”

  The horseman appeared to consider how to respond, and then he shrugged and once more cocked his head to one side.

  “Well, if that is all…”

  “That is all, and it is enough.”

  Joshua took a step forward. His whole posture was like a challenge.

  “Have you so far abandoned yourself that you imagine God has abandoned you?” he asked. “You do not know that He Who made you hears every beat of your heart? This moment His gaze is upon you, and He remembers, if you do not, that He is your father and you are His son. So beware of what you do in the presence of the Father, lest you forfeit His mercy.”

  The horseman leaned forward, if not intimidated, then at least perplexed.

  “Who are you then? Are you a prophet? Are you Isaiah?”

  “No, I am not Isaiah. I am Joshua bar Joseph, born in Nazareth, yet I ask you, in Isaiah’s words, ‘against whom have you raised your voice and lifted your eyes in Pride?’ It is not my life you hazard but your own.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The horseman was already reaching back to draw his sword when Noah stepped forward. He drew a small leather pouch from inside his cloak and threw it on the ground. It landed close enough to the horse’s feet to make the animal start.

  “This is what you seek,” he said. His voice was level, as if he had just made the last decision of his life. “Take it. It is all I have, and these men are poor. Take it. It holds silver. Take the donkey as well, and be satisfied.”

  “How do I know that is all you have?”

  Noah was framing an answer when one of the other riders urged his horse forward a few steps, put a hand on his companion’s arm, and whispered something to him. There was a brief conversation, and then the horseman turned his attention back to Noah.

  “My friend says that you are known to him. He says that you once saved his life. He says that we should let you and the prophet go in peace.”

  All the while the second man smiled at Noah with obvious pleasure, apparently expecting to be recognized.

  It was a moment before he was.

  “Samson?” Noah experienced an instant of disappointment. “Then I gather you did not go on to Ptolemais.”

  “No.” Samson shook his head, still smiling broadly. “I bought food and rested. Then I bought a sword. Then I stole a horse.”

  “And became a brigand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am sorry to hear it.”

  Samson’s friend seemed to take offense at this.

  “There is nothing wrong with being a brigand.”

  26

  Samson and his companions, as it developed, had not eaten since the morning before. They returned Noah’s pouch to him with just enough formality to indicate that he and his friends were no longer considered as among those upon whom it was permissible to prey, but at the same time they regarded with covetous eyes the food sacks and wineskins which burdened the donkey. They would not steal, and they were too proud to beg, but an invitation to share, it was implied, would not be declined.

  The donkey was quickly unloaded.

  Then Noah remembered Deborah and, reproaching himself, called out to her. Instantly he saw her face appear above the boulder behind which she had been hiding, and he gestured to her to come down.

  They met halfway up the trail and embraced.

  “We are safe then?” she asked as they walked down together. “They are not brigands?”

  “We are perfectly safe, but yes, they are brigands. One of them, however, is a friend of mine.”

  “You have friends who are brigands?”

  “He wasn’t a brigand when I knew him befor
e.”

  By the time they returned, most of the wine had been drunk and everyone was on convivial terms. There was much laughter, and Joshua was attempting to explain to Samson about God’s kingdom and how its imminent arrival should make him reconsider his choice of career. Samson listened politely but did not seem convinced.

  The brigand leader, holding the last wineskin by its neck, stood up to greet the new arrival.

  “Aha! I knew you were holding something back.”

  He slapped his thigh and laughed. He was a good fellow and meant no harm. He invited Noah to share the wine.

  “This is my betrothed, Deborah. We are on our way to Nazareth to be married.”

  “Then we should drink to your happiness.”

  On the pretext of seeing to the donkey, Deborah left them. The two men sat down in a patch of shade reluctantly provided by an acacia tree. When the wineskin was offered to him, Noah observed that the brigand leader’s hands were narrow, with long, slender fingers.

  There were at least two hours wanting until noon, but somehow it did not seem wise, under the circumstances, to decline any friendly gestures.

  “Peace be with you.” Noah took a long swallow.

  “Peace be with you,” the brigand answered. “My name is Lemuel, by the way.”

  They sat together in silence for a time, passing the wineskin back and forth.

  “That friend of yours, is he a preacher?”

  “Yes. He was a follower of the Baptist. He is my cousin.”

  “You should tell your cousin to curb his tongue.”

  His voice betrayed no hostility. He was merely offering useful advice.

  “I have told him that many times. He does not listen.”

  “Well, it brought him within a heartbeat of being killed today. Does the man have no fear?”

  “It would seem not. He believes he lives under God’s protection.”

  “God’s what?” This struck Lemuel as funny, and he laughed again. “God protected David, and maybe a prophet or two, but He does not care about ordinary men like you and me and your cousin—what was his name again?”

  “Joshua.”

  “Joshua? I think I have heard of him.” He took back the wineskin and seemed about to drink, but then apparently lost interest. “Well, maybe God does protect him, if he’s lived this long. Yes, maybe He does.”