by George Moore
We must go on farther, Azariah said, and after passing into many quiet hollows and ascending many crests the path to which they had remained faithful debouched at last on broken ground with the tail end of the forest straggling up the opposite hillside in groups and single trees. I know where we are now, Joseph cried. Do you not remember, Sir — Joseph’s explanation was cut short by the sight of some shepherds sitting at their midday meal, and hunger falling suddenly upon Azariah and Joseph, both began to regret they had not brought food with them. But Azariah had some shekels tied in his garment, and for one of these pieces of silver the shepherds were glad to share their bread and figs with them and to draw milk for them from one of the she-goats. From which shall I draw milk? the shepherd asked his mate, and the mate answered: White-nose looks as if her udder is paining her. She lost her kid yesterday. He mentioned two others: Speckled and Long-ears. Whichever would like her milk drawn off will answer to thy call, the shepherd answered, and the goat came running to him as if glad to hear her name. White-nose, isn’t it? Joseph asked, and he gathered a branch for her, and while she nibbled he watched the milk drawn off and drank it foaming and warm from the jug, believing it to be the sweetest he had ever drunk, though he had often drunk goat’s milk before. Azariah, too, vowed that he had never drunk better milk and persuaded the shepherds into discourse of their trade, learning much thereby, for these men knew everything that men may know about flocks, having been engaged in leading them from pasture to pasture all their lives and their fathers before them.
After telling of many famous rams they related the courage and fidelity of their dogs, none of which feared a wolf, and they mentioned that two had been lost in an encounter with a leopard — but the flock had been saved. As much as wolves the shepherds feared the eagles. There are a dozen nests in yon mountain if there be one. Take the strangers up the hillside, mate, so that they may get a sight of the birds. And Azariah and Joseph followed the shepherd up to the crags and were shown some birds wheeling above rocks so steep that there was no foothold for man. Or else we should have had their nests long ago, the shepherd said. Now here is a bear’s trail. He’s been seeking water here, but he didn’t get any; he came by here, and my word, he’s been up here after wild bees. The shepherd showed scratches among the dropping resin, saying: it was here that he clawed his way up. But did he get the honey? Joseph asked, a question the shepherd could not answer; and talking about bears and honey and eagles and lambs and wolves and lions, the afternoon passed away without their feeling it, till one of the shepherds said: it is folding-time now; and answering to different calls the flocks separated, and the shepherds went their different ways followed by their flocks.
The sunset had begun to redden the sky, and the shadows of the trees drew out as they crossed the hillside and descended by the steep path into the valley. The ascent that faced them was steep indeed, and Azariah had to rest several times, but at last they reached the slope on which the city was built: but they did not enter the gates yet awhile but stood looking back, thinking of the day that had gone by. We shall remember this day always, Joseph said, if we live to be as old as the patriarchs. Was it then so wonderful? Azariah asked, and Joseph could only answer: yes, very wonderful. Didn’t you think so? and tell me, he added, is it true that God is going to destroy the world and very soon? Why do you ask, Joseph? Azariah replied, and Joseph answered: because the world is so very beautiful. I never saw the world before to-day. My eyes were opened, and I shall be sorry if God destroys the world, for I should like to see more of it. But why should he make a beautiful world, and then destroy it? Don’t you think he will relent when the time comes and the day be as beautiful as it was this morning? Azariah answered him that God does not relent, for He knows the past and future as well as the present, and that the world was not as beautiful as it seems to be, for man is sinning always, though certainly God said all things are beautiful. But perhaps we sinned this morning in the sight of God. We sinned? Joseph repeated. How did we sin? Have you forgotten, Azariah answered, that it was arranged that we should spend the day reading the Scriptures, and we’ve spent it talking to shepherds? Was that a sin? Joseph asked. We can read the Scriptures to-morrow; if the day be clouded and rain comes, we can read them indoors. If the day be clouded, Azariah replied smiling. But was not thy life dedicated to Samuel? Thou hast forgotten him. But the world is God’s world. Joseph answered that he had forgotten his vow, and all that evening, in spite of Azariah’s gentleness with him, he was pursued by the memory of the sin he had committed. In Samuel’s own city he had broken his vow! And Azariah heard the boy blubbering in the darkness that night.
CHAP. III.
HE SHOULD NOT have interrupted the manifestations of joy at his return with: when may I go to Arimathea again? And his second question was hardly less indiscreet: why did we leave Arimathea? His father answered: because it suited us to do so; and Joseph withdrew to Rachel who was never gruff with him. But despite her bias in favour of all he said and did she reproved him, saying that he should not ask as soon as he returned home when he was going away again. I am glad in a way, Granny, but there’s no forest here. Dan left the room, and the boy would tell no more but burst into tears, asking what he had done to make Father so angry. Rachel could not tell him with safety, and Joseph, thinking that perhaps something unpleasant had happened to his father in the forest (a wolf may have bitten him there), spoke of the high rock on the next occasion and of the story of Jonathan and David that Azariah had read to him. You will ask him to come here one night, Father, and translate it to you? Promise me that you will. But I can read Hebrew, Dan replied, and there is no reason for those wondering eyes. Thy Granny will tell thee. But, Father — Joseph stopped suddenly. It had come into his mind to ask his father how it was that he had never read the story of Jonathan and David to him, but his interest in the matter dying suddenly, he said: to-morrow I begin my lessons, and Azariah tells me that I must have a copy of the Scriptures for my very own use. Now where are thy thoughts? In a barrel of salt fish? Father, do listen. I’d like to learn Hebrew from bottom to top and from top to bottom and then sideways, so as to put the Scribes in Jerusalem to shame when you send me thither for the Feast of the Passover. And thou’lt mind that my Scriptures be made by the best Scribe in Galilee and on the best parchment, promise me, Father!
Dan promised his son that no finer manuscript should be procurable in Galilee. But the making of this magnificent copy would delay for many months Joseph’s instruction in Hebrew, and Joseph was so impatient to begin that he lay awake that night and in the morning ransacked his father’s rooms, laying hands on some quires of his father’s Scriptures; and no sooner out of the house than a great fear fell upon him that he might be robbed: the quires were hidden in his vest suddenly and he walked on in confidence, also in a great seriousness, going his way melancholy as a camel, his head turned from the many temptations that the way offered to him — the flower in the cactus hedge was one. He passed it without picking it, and further on he allowed a strange crawling insect to go by without molestation, and feeling his mood to be exceptional he fell to thinking that his granny would laugh, were she to see him.
He was not, however, afraid of her laughing: women had no sense of the Word of God, he muttered. There were nests in the trees, but he kept himself from looking, lest a nest might inspire him to climb for it. But nobody could climb trees with several quires of Scriptures under his arm. He would lose his grip and fall, or else the Scriptures would fall, and if a thief happened to be going by it would be easy for him to pick up the quires and away with them before it would be possible for Joseph to slide down the tree and raise a hue and cry.
The lanes through which his way took him were frequented by boys, ball-players every one of them, and at this time ball-playing was a passion with Joseph and he would steal away whenever he got a chance and spend a whole day in an alley with a number of little ragamuffins. And if he were to meet the tribe, which was as likely as not at the next turning
, he must tell them that he was going to school and dared not stop. But they would jeer at him. He might give them his ball and in return they might not mock at him. He walked very quietly, hoping to pass unobserved, but a boy was looking over the cactus hedge and called to him, asking if he had brought a ball with him, for they had lost theirs. He threw his ball to him. But aren’t you coming to play with us? Not to-day, Joseph answered. I’m on my way to school. Well, to-morrow? Not to-morrow. I may not play truant from learning, Joseph answered sententiously, walking away, leaving his former playmates staring after him without a word in their mouths. But by the next day they had recovered their speech and cried out: the fishmonger’s son is going by to his lessons and dare not play at ball. Azariah would whip him if he did. One a little bolder than the rest dangled a piece of rope in his face saying: this is what you’d get if you stayed with us. He was moved to run after the boy and cuff him, but the quires under his arms restrained him and he passed on, keeping a dignified silence. Soon thou’lt be reading to us in the synagogues! was the last jeer cried after him that day, but for many a day he caught sight of a face grinning at him through the hedge, and the way to his lessons became hateful.
As he showed no sign of anger, the persecution grew wearisome to the persecutors, and soon after he discovered another way to Azariah. But this way was beset with women, whose sex impelled a yearning for this tall lithe boy with the gazelle-like eyes. Joseph was more inclined to the welcome of the Greek poets and sculptors who stopped their mules and leaning from high saddles spoke to him, for he was now beginning to speak Greek and it was pleasant to avail himself of the advantages of the road to chatter his Greek and to acquire new turns of phrases. Why not? since it seemed to be the wish of these men to instruct him. My very model! a bearded man cried out one morning, and stopping his mule he bent from the saddle towards Joseph and asked him many questions. Joseph told him that he was on his way to his lessons and that he passed through this lane every morning. At these words the sculptor’s eyes lighted up, for he had accepted Joseph’s answer as a tryst, and when Joseph came through the lane next day he caught sight of the sculptor waiting for him and — flattered — Joseph entered into conversation with him, resisting, however, the sculptor’s repeated invitation that Joseph should come to sit to him — if not for a statue, for a bust at least. But a bust is a graven image, Joseph answered, and as the point was being debated a rich merchant came by, riding a white horse that curveted splendidly, and Joseph, who was interested in the horse, referred the difficulty they were engaged in to the merchant. After some consideration of it he asked the meaning of the scrolls that Joseph carried in his hand, feigning an interest in them and in Azariah. Who is he? he asked, and Joseph answered: a very learned man, my tutor, to whom I must be on my way. And with a pretty bow he left merchant and sculptor exchanging angry looks.
But the sculptor knowing more of Joseph than the merchant — that he would be passing through the lane on the morrow at the same time — and as the boy’s beauty was of great importance to him, kept another tryst, waiting impatiently, and as soon as Joseph appeared he began to beseech him to come to Tiberias and pose in his studio for a statue he was carving, offering presents that would have shaken many determinations. But Joseph was as firm to-day as he was yesterday. I must be going on to my Hebrew, he said, and he left the sculptor cast away in dreams. He had not gone very far, however, before he met the merchant, who happened to be passing through the lane again, and seeing Joseph his eyes lighted up with pleasure, and after speaking to him he dismounted from his mule and showed him a beautiful engraved dagger which Joseph desired ardently; but a present so rich he did not care to accept, and hurried away, nor did he look back, so busy was he inventing reasons as he went for the delay.
I do not deny, Sir, that I’m past my time, but not by an hour; at most by half an hour. Playing at ball again, and in the purlieus of the neighbourhood, against your father’s instructions! Azariah said, his face full of storm. No, Sir, I have put ball-playing out of my mind; or Hebrew has put it out of my mind, and Greek too has had a say in the matter. The delay was caused by meeting a sculptor who asked me to pose before him for a statue. And what was thy answer to him? That we were forbidden by our laws to look upon graven images. And what answer did he give to that very proper answer? Azariah asked, somewhat softened. Many answers, Sir, and among them was this one: that there was no need for me to look upon the statue he was carving. The answer that one might expect from a Greek, Azariah rapped out, one that sets me thinking that there is more to be said against the Greek language than I cared to admit to thy father when last in argument with him on the subject. But, Sir, you will not forbid me the reading of Menander for no better reason than that a Greek asked that he might carve a statue after me, for what am I to blame, since yourself said my answer was commendable? And in these words there was so plaintive an accent that Azariah’s heart was touched, for he guessed that the diverting scene in which the slave arranges for a meeting between the lovers was in the boy’s mind.
At that moment their eyes went together to the tally on the wall, and pointing to it Joseph said it bore witness to the earnestness with which he had pursued his studies for the last six months, and Azariah was forced to admit there was little to complain of in the past, but he had noticed that once a boy came late for his lessons his truancy became common. Moreover, Sir, my time is of importance, Azariah declared, his hairy nostrils swelling at the thought of the half hour he had been kept waiting. But may we finish Menander’s comedy? Joseph asked, for he was curious to learn if Moschion succeeded in obtaining his father’s leave to marry the girl he had put in the family way. The lovers’ plan was to ingratiate themselves with the father’s concubine and to persuade her to get permission to rear and adopt the child. Yes, Joseph, the father relents. But it would please me, Sir, to learn why he relents. And Joseph promised that he would be for a whole year in advance of his time rather than behind it. He did not doubt that he would be able to keep his promise, for he had found a new way to Tiberias; a deserted way it seemed to be at first, and most propitious, without the temptations of ball-players, but as the season advanced the lane became infested by showmen on their way to Tiberias: mummers, acrobats, jugglers, fortune-tellers, star-mongers, dealers in charms and amulets, and Joseph was tempted more than once to stop and speak with these random folk, but the promise he had given Azariah was sufficiently powerful to inspire a dread and a dislike of these, and to avoid them he sought for a third way to Tiberias and found one: a path through an orchard belonging to a neighbour who was glad to give him permission to pass through it every morning, which he did, thereby making progress in his studies till one day, by the stile over which his custom was to vault into the quiet lane, he came suddenly upon what seemed to him like a small encampment: wayfarers of some sort he judged them to be, but of what sort he could not tell at first, there being some distance and the branches of an apple-tree between him and them.
But as he came through the trees, he decided in his mind that they were the servitude of some great man: varlets, hirelings or slaves. But his eyes fell on their baskets and — deceived by the number and size of these — the thought crossed his mind that they might be poulterers on their way to Tiberias. But whatever their trade they had no right to encamp in the orchard, and he informed them politely that the orchard belonged to friends of his, and that large and fierce dogs were loose about the place. For his warning they thanked him, saying they’d make off at once; remarking as they made their preparations for going that they did not think they were doing any harm by coming into the orchard, having only crossed the stile to rest themselves.
Going with poultry to Tiberias? Joseph said. Not with poultry, Sir, the varlets answered. We are not poulterers, but cockers. Cockers! Joseph repeated, and on reading the blank look in his face they told him they were the servants of a great Roman who had sent them in search of fighting cocks; for a great main was going to be fought that day in Tiberias. We are h
is cockers, a man said (he spoke with some slight authority, the others seemed to be in his charge), and have been far in search of these birds. He pointed to the baskets and asked Joseph if he would care to see the cocks, and as if to awaken Joseph’s curiosity he began to tell their pedigrees. That one, he said, is a Cilician and of a breed that has won thousands of shekels, and a bird in the basket next him is a Bythinian brown-red, the victor in many a main, and the birds in the next three baskets are Cappadocian Duns, all of celebrated ancestry, for our master will have none but the finest birds; and if you happen to know of any good birds, price will not stand in the way of our purchasing them. Joseph answered that he had not heard of any, but if he should — You’ll not forget us, said a small meagre woman with black shining eyes in a colourless face, drab as the long desert road she had come by. Joseph promised; and then a short thick-set man with matted hair, and sore eyes that were always fixed on the ground, opened one of the baskets and took out a long lean bird, which he held in shining fingers for Joseph’s admiration. Listen to him, cried the woman in a high thin voice. Listen to him, for no one can set a cock a-sparring like him. The servants consulted among themselves in a language Joseph did not understand, and then, as if they had come to an agreement among themselves, the foreman said, approaching Joseph and cringing a little before him, that if the little master could assure them they would not be disturbed by dogs, they would like to show him the cocks. A little exercise, the man said, would be of advantage to the birds — to those that were not fighting that morning — he added, and the man whom the woman nicknamed The Heeler, a nickname acquired from the dexterity with which he fitted the cock’s heels with soft leather pads, said: you see, master, they may fight and buffet one another for a space without injury.
