Once in the past fugitives had stood on the other side of the sea, their enemies behind them. And Joseph lifted up his arms and called upon the God of his forefathers to divide the waters of the sea once again and make a passage for them. Belief in the God of ancestors is strong. He appealed also to his ancestors themselves and entreated them to come to his assistance, for are we not one with them and strong in the same faith? But the sea lay in calm repose and divided not. Six horsemen came riding over the sand, shouting for joy at the thought of their reward, when they saw those they had so long pursued standing by the water, unable to proceed farther. Quickly they approached the shore, and were about to let fly the stones from their slings against the couple who had the little King of the Jews with them, when they saw the fugitives descend the wave-dashed cliffs and go out upon the surface of the sea. The man led the ass on which sat the woman with the child, and just as they passed over the sand of the desert, with even steps, they passed over the waters of the sea.

Their pursuers rode after them in blind rage, urged their horses into the sea, and were the first to reach—not Egypt, but the other world.



CHAPTER VI

The family of the poor carpenter from Nazareth stood on the soil of ancient Egypt. How had they crossed the sea? Joseph thought in a fishing boat, but it had all happened as in a dream. He opened his eyes, and sought the mountains of Nazareth, and saw the dark grove of palm-trees with their bare trunks and sword-shaped leaves, and he saw the gate flanked by enormous stone figures which, lying on their bellies, stretched out two paws in front of them and lifted huge human heads high in the air. He saw the triangular form of the pyramids rise against the yellow background. Strange odours filled the air, as well as shrill noises made by fantastic figures, and every sound struck hard and sharp on the ear. Joseph's heart was heavy. His home was abandoned, and they were in a strange land in which they must certainly be lost.

Mary, who was always outwardly calm, but inwardly bound up passionately in the child, looked at Joseph's stick, and said: "Joseph, it is a nice thought of yours to deck your staff with a flower in token of our safe arrival." Then Joseph looked at his stick and marvelled. For from the branch which he had cut at Sinai there sprouted a living, snow-white lily. Oh, Joseph, 'tis the flower of purity! But what was the use of all the flowers in the world when he was so full of care? He lifted the child in his arms, and when he looked at his sunny countenance the shadows were dispersed. But they experienced shadows enough in the land of the sun, where men had built a splendid temple to the sun-god like that which the Israelites at home had built to the great Jehovah.

Things did not go very well with these poor Jews during the long years they remained in this land. They did not understand the language; but their simple, kindly character and their readiness to be of use told in their favour. In that treeless land carpentry was at a discount. They built themselves a hut out of reeds and mud on the bank of the Nile near the royal city of Memphis, but in such a building the carpenter's skill did not shine. Still it was better than the dwellings of other poor people by the riverside. Joseph thought of fishing for a livelihood; but the fish-basket that he wove was so successful that the neighbours supplied him with food so that he might make such baskets for them. And soon people came from the town to buy his baskets, and when he carried his wares to market, he got rid of them all on the way. So basket-making became his trade, and he thought how once the little Moses was saved in a basket on the Nile. And just as his work was liked, so also did Mary and himself win affection, and they confessed that life went better on the banks of the Nile than in poor little Nazareth, for veritably there were fleshpots in Egypt. If only they could have crushed their hearts' longing for home!

When the little Jesus began to walk, the mothers who were their neighbours wished him to make friends with their children and play with them. But the boy was reserved and awkward with strangers. He preferred to wander alone at evening-time besides the stream and gaze at the big lotus flowers growing out of the mud, and at the crocodiles which sometimes crawled out of the water, and lifting their heads towards the sky, opened their great jaws as if they would drink in the sunshine. He often remained out longer than he ought, and came back with glowing cheeks, excited by some pleasure about which he said nothing. When he had eaten his figs or dates, and lay in his little bed, his father and mother sat close by, and spoke of the land of their fathers, or told ancient tales of their ancestors until he fell asleep. Joseph instructed the boy in the Jewish writings; but it was soon apparent that Joseph was the pupil, for what he read with difficulty from the roll, little Jesus spoke out spontaneously from his innermost soul. So he grew into a slender, delicate stripling, learned the foreign tongue, marked the customs, and followed them so far as they pleased him. There was much in him that he did not owe to education; although he said little, his mother observed it. And once she asked Joseph: "Tell me, are other children like our Jesus?"

He answered; "So far as I know them—he is different."

One day, when Jesus was a little older, something happened. Joseph had gone with the boy to the place where the boats land, in order to offer his baskets for sale. There was a stir among the people: soldiers in brilliant uniforms and carrying long spears marched along; then came two heralds blowing their horns as if they would split the air with their sharp tones; and behind came six black slaves drawing a golden chariot in which sat Pharaoh. He was a pale man with piercing eyes, dressed in costly robes, a sparkling coronet on his black, twisted hair. The people shouted joyfully, but he heeded them not; he leaned back wearily on his cushions. But all at once he lifted his head a little; a boy in the crowd, the stranger basket-maker's little son, attracted his attention. Whether it was his beauty or something unusual about the boy that struck him, we cannot say, but he ordered the carriage to be stopped, and the child to be brought to him.

Joseph humbly came forward with the boy, crossed his hands on his breast, and made a deep obeisance.

"That is your son?" said the king in his own language.

Joseph bowed affirmatively.

"You are a Jew! Will you sell me the boy?" asked Pharaoh.

And then Joseph: "Pharaoh! although I am a descendant of Jacob, whose sons sold their brother Joseph into Egypt, I do not deserve your irony. We are poor people, but the child is our most cherished possession."

"I only spoke in kindness about the selling," said the king. "You are my subjects, and the boy is my property. Take him, Hamar."

The servant was ready to put his hand on the little boy, who stood by quietly and looked resolutely at the king. Joseph fell on his knees and respectfully represented that he and his family were not Egyptian subjects, but lived there as strangers, and implored the almighty Pharaoh to allow him the rights of hospitality.

"I know nothing about all that, my good man," said the king. Then, catching sight of the boy's angry face, he laughed. "Meseems, my young Jew, that you would crush me to powder. Let me live a little longer in this pleasant land of Egypt. I shall not harm you. You are much too beautiful a child for that." He stopped, and then continued in a different tone: "Wait, and look more closely at Pharaoh, and see if he is really so terribly wicked, and whether it would be so dreadful to live in his palace and hand him the goblet when he is thirsty. Well? Be assured, old man, I shall do you no violence. Boy, you shall come to my court of your own free will, you shall share the education and instruction of the children of my nobles; only sometimes I shall have you with me, you fine young gazelle. Now go home with your father. To-morrow I will send and ask, mark you—only ask, not command. He who is tired of plundered booty knows how to value a free gift. You hear what I say?"

When the crowd heard Pharaoh speak to these poor people with such unwonted kindness, the like of which they had never heard before, they uttered mad shouts of joy. As the king proceeded on his way in his two-wheeled golden chariot, a long array of soldiers, cymbal players, and dancing girls following behind, the palm-groves resounded with the cries of the people. Joseph fled with the boy down narrow streets so as to avoid the crowd that wanted to press round him and look at and pet Pharaoh's little favourite.

The same evening an anxious council was held in the little hut. The boy, Jesus, was drawn to Pharaoh without saying why. They were terrified about it. The two working people had no idea that their life was becoming too narrow for his young soul, that he wanted to fortify himself with the knowledge to be obtained from the papyrus rolls of the ancient men of wisdom, with the intellectual products of the land of the Pharaohs. And still less did they imagine that a deeper reason led their boy to desire to learn something of life in the world.

Joseph admitted that the manuscripts in the royal collection counted for something. But Mary put little trust in the writings, and still less in Pharaoh.

"We've had," she said, "a painful experience of the good intentions of kings. Having escaped the violence of Herod with difficulty, are we to submit to that of Pharaoh? They all play the same game, only in a different way. What Jerusalem could not accomplish by force, Memphis will accomplish by cunning."

Joseph said: "My dear wife, you are not naturally so mistrustful. Yet after what we have gone through it is no wonder. This legend of a young King of the Jews has been a real fatality to us. Whoever started it can never answer for all the woes it brings."

"Let us leave that to the Lord, Joseph, and do what it is ours to do."

When Joseph was alone with her he said: "It seems to me, Mary, that you believe our Jesus is destined for great things. But you must remember that a basket-maker's hut is not exactly the right place for that. He would have a better chance at Pharaoh's court—like Moses. And we know that the King of Egypt is no friend of Herod. No, that is not his line; he really wishes well to the child, and no one can better understand that than ourselves. Did he not say that our darling should be treated like the children of the nobles?"

In the end she decided to do what was best for the child. He was past ten years old, and if he wished to go from the mud hut to the palace, well, she would not forbid it.

Jesus heard her words. "Mother," he said, and stood in front of her, "I do not wish to go from the mud hut to the palace, but I want to see the world and men and how they live. I am not abandoning my parents to go to Pharaoh—although I go, I remain here with you."

"You remain with us," said his mother, "and yet I see that even now you are no longer here."

But she would not let him know how it was with her. He should not see her weep. She would not spoil his pleasure. And then they discovered that after all he was not going very far away, only from the Nile to the town, and that Pharaoh had promised him liberty; he could visit his parents, and return to them whenever he so wished. But he would no longer be the same child who went from them. Mary reflected that that was the usual case with mother and son; the youth gave himself up more and more to strangers, and less and less of him remained to his mother. There remained to her the memory that she had borne him in pain, that she had nourished him with her life; she had a claim on him more sacred and everlasting than any other could have. But gradually and inevitably he separated himself from his mother, and what she would do for him, and give him, and be to him, he kindly but decidedly set aside. She must even give him her prayerful blessing in secret; she hardly dared to touch his head with her trembling hands.

Next day at noon a royal litter stood before the hut. Two slaves were the bearers, one of whom was old and feeble. When Mary saw the litter she exclaimed that she would not allow her child to lie on so soft a couch. The boy smiled a little, so that two dimples appeared on his rosy cheeks, and said:

"Why, mother, do you think I would ride on those cushions? Now, let the sick slave get in, and I will take his place."

But the leader of the little procession was not agreeable. The boy could do as he liked, stay, or go with them.

"I shall stay," said Jesus, "and go to Pharaoh when I please." The litter returned empty to the palace.

The next day the boy made up his mind to go. His parents accompanied him through the palm-grove to the town. He walked between father and mother in his humble garb, and Joseph gave him good advice the while. Mary was silent and invoked the heavenly powers to protect her child. Only the boy was admitted through the gateway of the palace; father and mother remained behind and looked fearfully after their Jesus, who turned round to wave to them. His face was glad, and that comforted the mother. The father thought it incomprehensible that a child could so cheerfully and heedlessly part from the only creatures who cared for him; but he kept his thought to himself.

The boy felt curiosity, satisfaction, and repugnance all at the same time, when he gave himself into the hands of the servants, who led him to a refreshing bath, anointed him with sweet-smelling oil, and clad him in a silken garment. But he desired to learn what life in the royal palace was like. And gradually its splendour began to enfold him. The Arabian tales which his father loved to tell him contained marvels and splendours, but nothing to be compared with the magnificence and brilliance that now assailed his senses. Marble staircases as broad as streets, halls as lofty as temples, marble pillars, brilliantly painted domes. The sun came through the windows in every colour there is, and was reflected red, blue, green, and gold by the shining walls. But more fairy-like were the nights, when thousands of lamps burned in the halls, a forest of candelabra shone like a conflagration kept within bounds; when the courtiers seemed to sink into the carpets and divans and silken and down coverlets; when the sweet-smelling incense rose from the golden censers and intoxicated the brain; when a hundred servants made ready the banquet of indescribable luxury, and carried it in silver dishes, alabaster bowls, and crystal goblets; when youths and maidens, with arms entwined, crowned each other with wreaths of roses; when the fanfares sounded, and the cymbals clashed, and song gushed from maidens' throats; and when at length Pharaoh entered in flowing purple robes adorned with a thousand sparkling diamond stars—on his head an indented coronet, shining like carbuncle—the god! the sun-god! On all this our boy from the Nile hut looked as at something wonderful that had nothing to do with him. A fan of shimmering peacocks' feathers was put into his hand. Other boys had similar fans, and with half-bared limbs stood close to the guests and fanned them into coolness. Young Jesus was to do that for Pharaoh, but he did not do it, and sat on the floor and never grew weary of looking at Pharaoh's pale face. The king answered his gaze kindly: "I think that is the proud youth from the Nile, who does not desire to sit at the feet of Pharaoh."

"He shall sit at the right hand of God," sang the choir. Slowly, with the air of an irritated lion, the king turned his head in order to see what stupid choirmaster mingled Hebrew verses with the hymn of Osiris. Then ensued noise and confusion. The windows, behind which was the darkness, shone with a red light. The people had assembled before the palace with torches in order to do homage to Pharaoh, the son of Light. The king looked annoyed. Such homage was repeated every new moon—he desired it, and yet it bored him. He beckoned to the cup-bearers, he wanted a goblet of wine. That brought the blood to his cheeks, and the light to his eyes. He joined in the hymn of praise to Osiris, and his whole form glowed with strength and gladness.

When the quiet night succeeded the luxurious day, so still was it that the lapping of the waves of the Nile might be heard. Jesus lay on a curtained couch of down, and could not sleep. How well he had slept in the hut by the Nile! He was hot and rose and looked out of the window. The stars sparkled like tiny suns. He lay down again, prayed to his Father, and fell asleep. The next day, when the feast was over, he would find the rooms in which the old writings were kept, and the teachers who would instruct him. But it was not like the feast that comes to an end; it was repeated every day at the king's court.

It happened one night that the slaves stole around and woke each other. Jesus became aware of the subdued noise and asked the cause. One approached him and whispered, "Pharaoh weeps!" Like a mysterious breath of wind it went through the palace, "Pharaoh weeps!" Then all was still again, and the dreaming night lay over everything.

Jesus did not lie down again on the soft cushions, he rested on the cool floor and thought. The king weeps! Arabia and India, Greece and Rome have sent their costliest treasures to Memphis. Phoenician ships cruise off the coasts of Gaul, Albion, and Germany in order to obtain treasure for the great Pharaoh. His people surround him day after day with homage, his life is at its prime. And he weeps? Was it not perhaps that he sobbed in his dreams, or it may be laughed? But the watchers think he weeps.



CHAPTER VII

And the days passed by. As the king had said, the boy was free. But he stayed on at the palace because he hoped one day to find the room in which the manuscripts were kept. He often strolled through the town and the palm-grove down to the river to see his parents. Thousands of slaves were working at the sluices of the stream which fertilised the land. The overseer scourged them lustily, so that many of them fell down exhausted and even dying. Jesus looked on and denounced such barbarity, until he, too, received a blow. Then he went out to the Pyramids where the Pharaohs slept, and listened if they were not weeping. He went into the Temple of Osiris and looked at the monster idols, fat, soulless, ugly, between the rounded pillars. He searched the palace untiringly for the hall in which the writings were kept, and at last he came upon it. But it was closed: its custodians were hunting jackals and tigers in the desert. They found it dark and dreary there among the great minds of old; the splendour and luxury of the court did not penetrate to the hall of writings.

Then nights came again when whispers ran through the halls, "Pharaoh weeps." And the reason, too, was whispered. He had caused the woman he loved best to be strangled, and now the astrologers declared that she was innocent. One day the king lay on his couch and desired that the boy from the Nile should be summoned to fan him. As the king was sick, Jesus agreed to go. Pharaoh was ill-humoured and impatient, neither fan nor fanning was right, and when the boy left off that was not right either.

Then Jesus said suddenly: "Pharaoh, you are sick."

The king stared at him in astonishment. A page dare to open his mouth and speak to the Son of Light! When, however, he saw the sad, sincere expression of sympathy in the boy's countenance ho became calmer, and said; "Yes, my boy, I am sick."

"King," said Jesus, "I know what is the matter with you."

"You know!"

"You keep shadows within and light without. Reverse it."

Directly the boy had said that Pharaoh got up, thinner and taller than he usually appeared to be, and haughtily pointed to the door, an angry light in his eyes.

The boy went out quietly, and did not look back.

But his words were not forgotten. In the noise and tumult of the daytime Pharaoh did not hear them; in the night, when all the brilliance was extinguished and only the miserable and unhappy waked, he heard softly echoed from wall to wall of his chamber, "Reverse it! Bring the light inside!"

Shortly before that time Jesus had discovered an aged scholar who dwelt outside the gate of Thebes, in a vaulted cave at the foot of the Pyramid. He would have nothing to do with any living thing except a goat of the desert which furnished him with milk. And as he kept always within the darkness of the vault, bending over endless hieroglyphics on half-decomposed slabs of stone, on excavated household vessels, and papyrus rolls, the goat likewise never saw the sun. Both were contented with the food brought them daily by an old fellah. The hermit was one who had surely reversed things—shadow without and light within. When Pharaoh dismissed Jesus, he sought the learned cave-dweller in order to find wisdom. At first the old man would not let him come in. What had young blood to do with wisdom?

"My son, first grow old, and then come and seek wisdom in the old writings."

The boy answered: "Do you give wisdom only for dying? I want it for living."

Then the old man let him in.

Jesus now visited the wise man every day and listened to his teachings about the world and life, and also about eternal life. The hermit spoke of the transmigration of souls, how in the course of ages souls must pass through all beings, live through all the circles of existence, according as their conduct led them upwards to the gods, or downwards to the worms in the mud. Therefore we should love the animals which the souls of men may inhabit. He spoke with deep awe of the serpent Kebados, and of the sublime Apis in the Temple of Memphis. He lost himself in all the depths and shoals of thought, verified everything by the hieroglyphics, and declared it to be scientific truth. So that the man who lived in the dark discoursed to the boy on light. He spoke of the all-holy sun-god Osiris who created everything and destroyed everything—the great, the adorable Osiris by whose eye every creature was absorbed. Then he would again solemnly and mysteriously murmur incomprehensible formulae, and the eager boy grew weary. Here, too, something evidently had to be reversed. So thinking, he went quietly forth and left the little gate open. When the old man looked up at him, there he was in the open air pasturing the goat, who, delighted at her liberty, was capering round on the grass.

"Why do you not show your reverence for truth?" he said, reprovingly.

And Jesus: "Don't you see that I am proving my reverence for your teaching. You say: We must love animals. Therefore I led the goat out into the open air, that she may feed on the fragrant grass. You say that we should kindle our eye at that of the sun-god, therefore I went out with the goat from the dark vault into the bright sunlight."

"You must learn to understand the writings."

"I want to know living creatures."

The old man looked at the boy with an air of vexation. "Tell me, you bold son of man, under what sign of the zodiac were you born?"

"Under that of the ox and the ass," answered the boy Jesus.

The man of learning immediately hurried into his cave, lighted his lamp, and consulted his hieroglyphics. Under the ox and the ass—he grew afraid. Away with Libra, away with Libra! He investigated yet again. It stood written on the stone and in the roll. He went out again, and looked at the boy, but differently from before, uneasily, in great excitement.

"Listen, boy, I've cast your horoscope."

"What is it?"

"By the ancient and sacred signs I've read your fate. Knowing under what sign of the zodiac and under which stars you were born, I can enlighten you as to the fate you go to meet so callously. Do you desire to know it?"

"If I desire to know it, I will ask my Father."

"Is your father an astrologer?"

"He guides the stars in their courses,"

"He guides the stars in their courses? What do you mean? You are a fool, a godless fool. You will learn what terrors await you. This arrogance is the beginning. His Father guides the stars in their courses indeed!"



CHAPTER VIII

News came from Judaea that King Herod was dead. It was also reported that his successor, called Herod the younger, was of milder temperament and a true friend of his people. So Joseph considered that the time was now come when he might return to his native land with his wife and his tall, slender son. His basket-making, through industry and thrift, had, almost without his noticing it, put so much money into his pocket that he was able to treat with a Phoenician merchant regarding the journey home. For they would not go back across the desert: Joseph wanted to show his family the sea. He took willow twigs with him in order to have something to do during the voyage. Mary occupied herself in repairing and making clothes, so that she might be nicely dressed when she arrived home. The other passengers who were in the big ship were glad of the idleness, and amused themselves in all sorts of ways. Jesus often joined them, and rejoiced with those who were glad. But when the amusement degenerated into extravagance and shamelessness, he retired to the cabin, or looked at the wide expanse of waters.

One moonlight night when they were on the high seas, a storm sprang up. The ship's keel was lifted high at one moment only to dip low the next, so that the waves broke over the deck; bundles and chests were thrown about, and a salt stream struck the travellers' faces. The rigging broke away from the masts, and fluttered loosely in the air out into the dark sea which heaved endlessly in mountains of foam, and threatened to engulf the groaning ship. The people were mad with terror and anguish, and, reeling and staggering, sought refuge in every corner in order to avoid the falling beams and splinters. Joseph and Mary looked for Jesus, and found him quietly asleep on a bench. The storm thundered over his head, the masts cracked, but he slept peacefully. Mary bent over him, and climbed on to the bench so that they might not be hurled apart. She would let him sleep on, what could a mother's love do more? But Joseph thought it time to be prepared, and so they woke him. He stood on the deck and looked out into the wild confusion. He saw the moon fly from one wall of mist to the other, he saw dark monsters shoot up from the roaring abyss, and throw themselves on the ship with a crashing noise, and turn it on its side so that the masts almost touched the surface of the water, while birds of prey hovered above. The ship heaved from its inmost recesses, and cracked from end to end as if it would burst. Jesus, pale-faced, his eyes sparkling with delight, held on to the railing. Joseph and Mary tried to protect him. He thrust them back, and without ceasing to gaze at the awful splendour, said: "Let me alone! Don't you see that I'm with my Father?"

It is written of him that he is the only man who had no father on earth, and so he sought and found Him in heaven.

Others who saw the youth that night became almost calm in spite of their terror. If he is not afraid for his young life, is ours so much more valuable? And then, whether to conquer or to fail, they went to work with more courage to steer the ship, to mend the tackle with tow, to bale out the water, until gradually the storm subsided. When day dawned Jesus was still gazing with delight at the open sea, where he had watched the struggle of winds and waves of light and darkness. At last he had found it—light both within and without! The helmsman blew his horn, and announced, "Land in sight!" Far away over the dark-green water shone the cliffs of Joppa.

When the ship was safely steered through the high cliffs into the harbour, our family landed in order to journey thence to Jerusalem on foot. For it was the time of the Passover, and it was many years since Joseph had celebrated it in Solomon's Temple. The feast—a memorial of the deliverance from Egypt—had now a double meaning for him. So he wished to make this detour to the royal city on his way to his native Galilee, and especially that, after their sojourn in the land of the heathen, he might introduce Jesus to the public worship of the chosen people. Joseph and Mary clasped each other's hands in quiet joy when they were once again journeying through their native land, breathing its fresh air, seeing the well-known plants and creatures, hearing the familiar tongue. Jesus remained calm. If he found any childish memories there, they would be of the king who had persecuted him. He could regard the land with calm impartiality. And when he saw his parents so glad to be at home again, he thought how strange it was that lifeless earth should have so much power over the heart. Does not the Heavenly Father hold the whole earth in his hand? Does not man carry his home within his own bosom?

Their possessions were tied on to the back of a camel, and they trudged cheerfully after it. Joseph carried an axe at his waist in order to defend them from attacks, but he only had occasion to try it on the blocks of wood that lay in the road, which he liked to hack at a little if they were good timber. The nearer they approached the capital the more animated the stony roads became. Pilgrims who were proceeding to the great festival in the holy place streamed along the paths. After sunset on the second day our travellers found themselves at an inn in Jerusalem. Joseph could afford to be more independent than he had been twelve years back—he had money in his pocket! Their first walk was to the Temple. They hastened their steps when passing Herod's palace.

The Temple stood in wondrous splendour. All sorts of people filled the forecourt, hurrying, pushing, and shouting, pressing forward through the lines of pillars into the Holy Place, and thence into the Holy of Holies, where the ark of the covenant stood, flanked by golden candelabra. Every fifth man wore the robes of a rabbi, and was thus sure of his place in the Temple as one learned in the law. Pharisees and Sadducees, two hostile parties in the interpretation of the law, talked together of tithes and tribute, or entered on lively disputes over the laws of the Scriptures, a subject on which they never agreed. Joseph and Mary did not observe that others were quarrelling; they humbly obeyed the rules, and stood in a niche of the Holy Place and prayed. But Jesus stood by the pillars and listened to the disputants with astonishment.

The next day they inspected the city as far as the crowds rendered it possible. Joseph wished to visit the grave of his noble ancestor, and pushed through the crowds that filled the dark, narrow streets, noisy with buyers and sellers, donkey-drivers, porters, shouting rabbis, and an endless stream of pilgrims. When they reached David's tomb Jesus was not with them. Joseph thought that he had remained behind in the crowd, and, feeling quite easy about him, paid his devotions at the tomb of his royal ancestor. When they returned to the inn, where they thought to find Jesus, He was not there; time passed, and He did not come. Someone said He had joined a party of pilgrims going to Galilee, because He thought that His parents had already set out. "How could He think that?" exclaimed Joseph. "As if we should go without Him!"

They hurried off to fetch their son, but when they came up with the pilgrims, Jesus was not there, nothing was known of him, and his parents returned to the town. They sought him there for two whole days. They visited every quarter of the city, searched all the public buildings, inquired of every curator, asked at the strangers' office, questioned all the shop-keepers about the tall boy with pale face, brown hair, and an Egyptian fez on his head. But no one had seen him. They returned to the inn, fully expecting to find him there. But there was no sign of him. Mary, who was almost fainting with anxiety, declared that he must have fallen into the hands of Herod. Joseph comforted her, though he was himself in sad need of consolation.

"Poor mother," he said, drawing her head down on his breast, "let us go and place our trouble before the Lord."

And when they had gone up into the Temple, there, among the scholars and the men learned in the law they found Jesus. The youth sat among the grey-bearded rabbis, and carried on a lively conversation with them, so that his cheeks glowed and his eyes shone. Judgment had to be pronounced on a serious case of transgression of the law. A man in Jerusalem had baked bread on the Sabbath, because his neighbour had been unable to lend him the oven the day before. The Pharisees met together, and eagerly brought forward a crowd of statutes regarding the culpability of the transgressor. Young Jesus listened attentively for a while, and then suddenly stepped out of the crowd. Placing himself in front of the learned men, he asked: "Rabbis, ought a man to do good on the Sabbath or not?"

They did not know at first whether to honour this bold young man with an answer. But there is a precept in the law which declares that every inquirer must be answered, so one of them said curtly and roughly: "Of course a man should do good."

Jesus inquired further; "Is life a good thing or not?"

"As it is the gift of God, it is a good thing."

"Should a man then preserve life or harm it on the Sabbath?"

The wise men were silent, for they would have been compelled to acknowledge that life must be preserved on the Sabbath, and their accusation of the man who had baked bread for his food would have fallen to the ground.

Jesus walked quickly up the steps to the table, and said: "Rabbis, if a sheep fell into a brook on the Sabbath, would you leave it there till the next day? You would not first think: To-day is the Sabbath day, but you would pull it out before it was drowned. Which is of greater value, a sheep or a man? If a sick man comes on the Sabbath day, and needs help, it is given him at once. And if you have a splinter in your flesh, no one asks if it is the Sabbath; the splinter must be taken out. But you come with your laws against a poor man who was obliged to prepare his food on the Sabbath, and you imagine yourselves better than he is. No, that will not do. The intention must decide. If any one bakes bread on the Sabbath, I should say to him: 'Is it for your own good or for gain?' In the first case you are acting rightly, in the last you desecrate the Sabbath."

As they now did not know what to say, they decided that the youth was too insignificant for them to dispute with.

Jesus, still excited, came down and joined the crowd, where his mother was wringing her hands over the boldness with which her son had spoken to the elders and the wise men. She stretched her arms towards him. "Child! child! What are you doing here? Why treat us so? What we have not suffered on your behalf! We have sought you for three whole days in the greatest anxiety."

Then Jesus said: "Why did you seek me? He who has a task to do, cannot always stay with his own people. I have been about my Heavenly Father's business."

"Where were you all the time?"

He did not answer. Others might have told how he stood between the pillars listening to the discussions of the Rabbis until he could keep silence no longer.

Joseph said to him with some severity: "If you are learned enough to interpret the Scriptures to those honourable men, you must know the fifth commandment: 'Honour thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.'"

Jesus said nothing.

"And now, my son, we will betake ourselves to that land."

And so they set out on the last stage of their journey. It was hard walking over the vineyards of Judaea and Samaria, and Mary, when they were quite near home, asked if she should ever see Nazareth again. Jesus marched the distance, so to speak, twice, for he was never tired of turning aside to gather dates, currants, and figs, or to fetch a pitcher of water in order that his parents might quench their thirst. So they went slowly over the rocky land, and when the mule-path led to an eminence over which flat stones lay scattered, and which was thickly sown with stumpy shrubs, the fertile plain of Israel lay before them. It was surrounded by wooded hills, while villages were scattered about its surface, and shining rivers wound through it. Opposite, one range of mountains showed behind the other, and the highest lifted their snowy peaks into the blue sky.

Joseph let fall the camel's guiding rein and his staff, extended his arms and exclaimed: "Praise the Lord, oh my soul!" For Galilee, his native place, lay before him.

When they saw the little town of Nazareth nestling in a bend of the hills—ah! how small the place was, and how peaceful amid the green hills!—Mary wept for joy.



CHAPTER IX

The inhabitants of Nazareth were not a little astonished to see Joseph, the carpenter, who had so long disappeared from their midst, walk up the street with his wife and a handsome boy. It was a good thing that they had baggage with them. But Cousin Nathaniel made a very wry face, in which the smile of welcome struggled with the anxiety this unexpected arrival caused him. Cousin Nathaniel had taken possession of, and settled comfortably in the house, regarding himself as the heir. Now he must pack up and go.

Joseph was delighted to see his workshop again, with its vice, bench, yardstick, plane, and saw. The red dyeing vat was also there, and the cord with which the timber was measured before the axe was used on it. Cousin Nathaniel declared that many of the tools belonged to him, until Joseph pointed to the J with which all the things were marked for the sake of order. When the old workman tied on his apron, and for the first time set to work with the plane so that the fine shavings flew whirring about, his blood flowed swiftly for delight, and his eye looked like that of a young man. And so the carpenter began cheerfully to work again, not only in his own shop, but anywhere in the neighbourhood where building or repairing was required, or tables, chests, or benches were needed. The little property he had brought from Egypt would be increased here, so that when the time came his son should make a good start in life. Mary helped him with careful and economical housekeeping, and made undergarments and cloaks for the women of Nazareth. Jesus had a room to himself to which he could withdraw when work was over. Joseph hoped, by making him comfortable at home, to counteract the attractions of the outside world. The vine trellises could be clearly seen through the windows of the room, and a hill with olive-trees, and clouds from Lebanon passing over the sky, and the stars that rose in the east. The first gleam of sun, moon, and stars, when they rose, fell into that peaceful chamber. The Books of Moses, the Maccabees, the Kings, the Prophets, and Psalmists which Jesus gradually collected in Nazareth, Cana, Nain, and in villages below round the lake, filled a shelf. The men of Galilee had become indifferent to the works which their forefathers wrote with toil and reverence; they had had to wait too long for the fulfilment of the prophecies, and began to doubt that a Messiah would ever come to the Jews, so that they were quite pleased to give the parchments to that nice boy of Joseph's. If they wanted to know anything, they had only to ask him, and he explained it so clearly and concisely, and sometimes so impressively, that they never forgot it again. That was much easier than awkwardly searching for themselves, and labouring hard to decipher the words only to be unable to understand them when they had done so.

Many a night, by the light of the moon, did Jesus read in his books. They were the same as those we read to-day when we open the Old Testament. So that it is as if we sat with Jesus on the same school bench. He read of Adam and his sin, of Cain and his murder, of Abraham and his promise, of Noah and the deluge. He read of Jacob and his sons, of Joseph whom his brothers sold into Egypt, and of his fate in that land. And he read of Moses the great lawgiver, of David the shepherd, minstrel and king, and of Solomon's wisdom and of his temple, and of the Prophets who judged the people for their misdeeds, and prophesied the future kingdom. Jesus read the history of his people with a burning heart. He saw how the race had gradually gone from bad to worse. If he had at first rejoiced with all enthusiasm, later on he became angry at the degeneration. Grief made him sleepless, and he peered thoughtfully into the starry heavens, asking: "What will deliver them from this misery?"

The stars were silent. But out of the distance, out of the stillness of eternity, it was proclaimed: I love them so deeply, that I shall send my own Son to make them happy.

By day Joseph took care that the youth should not dream too much. Jesus must learn his trade. He did so willingly but not gladly, for his head was not with his hands, and while he should have joined two beams to make a door frame, the dark saying of the Prophet sounded in his head: "He is numbered among the transgressors."

"What are you doing there? Is that a door frame? It's a cross!" So Joseph awoke him out of his reverie, and Jesus was terrified to see that he had nailed the pieces of wood crosswise.

"Tell me," said Joseph to the boy, "what are you thinking of? If you've any sense in your head use it for your honest work. The simplest handicraft needs it all, and not only a piece here and there. And especially carpentering, which builds people houses, bridges, ships, and yea, temples for Jehovah. You cannot imagine what mischief a bad carpenter may do. You're thinking of divine things? Well, work is a divine thing. With work in his hands, man continues the creation of God. People say that you are clever; then let your master see it. You make the tools blunt and the work is not clean and sharp. This can't go on, child."

Jesus let the lecture pass in silence, and worked far into the night to make the mischief good.

Joseph confided his grief to his wife. Not that the boy would turn out a bad carpenter. If he liked he could succeed in anything. But Joseph was grieved to have to scold his favourite so often. He had to do that to every apprentice.

Mary said: "Joseph, you are quite right, to direct him. I am indeed anxious. I observe the child carefully, and I am not satisfied. He is so different, so very different from boys of his age."

"I think, too, that he is different," said Joseph. "We must not forget that from the very beginning it was different with this child. Jehovah understands it; I can't fit it together. He reads too much, and that's bad for young people."

"And I almost fear he reads the Law in order to criticise it," said Mary.

"He'll find himself. At his age boys exaggerate in everything." So Joseph consoled himself. "He's a singular boy. Look at him when he plays with other children! The tallest of them all! No, after all, I wouldn't have him other than he is."

They had talked in sorrow and joy while Jesus was nailing the wood correctly out in the workshop. And when he had gone to bed, Joseph crept into his room, and laid his hand gently on his head.

And so the years went by. Jesus improved in his work, and grew in intelligence, and in cheerfulness. The Sabbath day was all his own. He liked to go up to the hill top where the sheep were feeding among the stones and the olive-trees, whence he could see the mighty mountains of Lebanon and, the wide landscape, partly green and fertile and partly barren, down to the lake. He stood there and thought. He was always friendly with the people he met or who were employed about him, but he seldom became intimate with them. Occasionally he would join in some athletic exercise with youths from Cana, and in wrestling, strive who could overcome the other. Then his soft brown hair would fly in the wind, his cheeks would glow, and when the game was over, he would return arm-in-arm with his adversary to the valley below. But he preferred to be alone with himself, or with silent nature. Beautiful ideas came springing like lambs in that peaceful place, but there also came thoughts strong as lions. He dreamed. He did not think; thought, as it were, lay within himself, and then he spoke out many a word at which he was himself terrified. Ideas began to shape themselves within him, and before he was aware of it they were clearly spoken by his tongue, as if it was another who spoke for him. And so he came out of the mysterious depths to the light.

He was often challenged to dispute; he never defended himself except by words, but they were so weighty and fiery that people soon left him in peace. If he struck, he knew how to make the injury good. One day when he was going down the defile to the stony moor, a mischievous boy ran up behind him and knocked him down. Jesus quickly picked himself up, and shouted angrily to the boy, "Die!" When he saw the blazing eye, the boy turned deathly pale and began to tremble so that, near to fainting, he had to lean up against the rocky wall. Jesus went up to him, laid his hand on his shoulder and said kindly, "Live!"

No one in the whole country-side had ever seen such an eye as his. Like lightning in anger, in calmer moods like the gleam of dewdrops upon flowers.



CHAPTER X

As Jesus gradually grew to manhood he worked at his trade as a master. For Joseph was old and feeble, and could only sit by the bench, overlook the carpenters and tell them what it would be best to do. They had a young apprentice, a near relation, named John, who helped Jesus with the carpentering and building. When they built a cottage in Nazareth, or roofed a house, he was severe and strict with the youth. But when on the Sabbath day they wandered together through the country between the vines, over the meadows with the stones and herds, sometimes through the dark cedar forests to the lower slopes of Lebanon, they said not a word about the work. They watched the animals, the plants, the streams, the heavens, and their everlasting lights, and rejoiced exceedingly. Sometimes they assisted poor gardeners and shepherds, and did them trifling services. They taught John to blow the horn, and Jesus sang joyful psalms with a clear voice.

But Joseph's death was approaching.

He lay half-blind on his bed, and asked Mary how she would manage when he was gone. Then he felt with his cold hand for Jesus.

"My son, my son!"

Jesus wiped the dying man's brow with the hem of his garment.

"I had hoped," said Joseph softly, "but it is not to be. I must depart in darkness."

"Father," said Jesus, and tenderly stroked his head.

"It is hard, my child. Stay beside me. I had hoped to see the Messiah and his light. But I must be gathered to my fathers in darkness."

"He will soon come and lead you to paradise."

The old man grasped his hand convulsively. "It is quite dark. I am afraid. Stay with me, my Jesus."

And so he fell asleep for ever.

They buried him outside the city under the walls. Jesus planted the staff which Joseph had cut during the flight into Egypt, and had always carried with him, on the mound. And no sooner was it planted in the earth than it began to bear young shoots. And when Mary went the next day to pray there, behold the grave was surrounded with white lilies, which grew from the stick and spread themselves in rows over the mound.

After the old master's death trouble befell the family. People began to take their orders for work elsewhere, for they found it difficult to get on with the young master. A man who went against the Scriptures and traditional custom in so many things could not do his work properly. He seldom attended public worship in the Temple, and was never seen to give alms. In the morning he went down to the spring and washed himself, but otherwise he omitted all the prescribed ablutions. When the Rabbi of Nazareth reproached him for such conduct, he replied; "Who ought to wash, the clean or the unclean? Moses knew this people when he made washing a law for them. Does uncleanness come from within or without? It is not the dust of the street that soils a man, but the evil thoughts of his heart. Is it unseemly to eat honest bread with dusty hands? Is it not more unseemly to take away your brother's bread with clean hands?"

The Rabbi considered that it would be foolish to waste more words on this transgressor of the law, and went his way. But next day he informed the carpenter that he was to stand on the Sabbath behind the poor-box, in order to see whether the well-washed hands of believing Jews took the bread away from their brothers, or, rather, did not bestow it liberally upon them. And as Jesus stood in the Temple, he observed the well-to-do Nazarenes dip their hands into the basin, with pious air throw large pieces of money into the poor-box, and then look round to see if their good example was observed. When it grew dark, a poor woman came and with her lean fingers put a farthing into the poor-box.

"Well, what do you say now?" asked the Rabbi of the carpenter.

Jesus answered: "I think the haughty rich people have washed themselves, and that still they give with unclean hands. They give away a small part of what they have taken from others, and give from their superabundance. The poor woman gave the largest gift in God's eyes. She gave all that she possessed."

And so it happened that Jesus became more and more estranged from Nazareth. Only poor folk and little children were attracted to him: he cheered the former and played with the latter. But otherwise men drew apart from him, considering him an eccentric creature and perhaps a little dangerous. His mother sometimes tried to defend him: he had grown up in a foreign land among strange customs and ways of thought. At bottom he had the best of natures, so kind and helpful to others and so severe towards himself. How like a mother! What mother has not had the best of children? They despised her remarks and pitied her because her son was so unlike other boys and caused her anxiety. There was nothing to complain of in his work when he stuck to it. What a carpenter he might be with such aptness! Only he should not interfere in things he could not understand, and should not disturb people's belief in the religion of their fathers.

One day there was a marriage in the neighbouring town of Cana. Mary and her relatives were invited, for the bridegroom was a distant cousin. So far as Jesus was concerned, there would have been no great grief had he stayed away. Possibly he would not take any pleasure in the old marriage customs and the traditions to which they still held. Jesus understood the irony, but it did not hurt him, and so he went to the marriage in order to rejoice with the joyful. When the merriment was at its height, Mary drew her son aside and said: "I think it would be well if we went home now; we are not regarded with favour here. They would be glad of fewer guests, for I hear the wine has given out."

"What matters it to me if there's no more wine," answered Jesus, almost roughly. "I do not want any."

"But the other guests do. The host is greatly embarrassed. I wish someone could help him."

"If they are thirsty, have the water jugs brought in," he said. "If the drinker has faith in his God then the water will be wine. He will be well content."

The host, in fact, saw no other way of satisfying his guests' thirst than in ordering large stone pitchers of water to be brought in from the well. He was vastly amazed when the guests found it delicious, and praised the wine that had just been poured out for them. "Usually," they said, "the host produces his best wine first, and when the carousers have drunk freely, he brings in worse. Our good host thinks differently, and to the best food adds the best wine."

But Jesus and his relations saw how the pitchers were filled at the well, and when they tasted their contents, some declared that things could not be all right here. Jesus himself drank, and saw that it was wine. Much moved, he went out into the starry night. "Oh, Father!" he said in his heart, "what dost thou intend with regard to this son of man? If it is thy will that water shall be turned into wine, it may then be possible to pour new wine into the old skins, the spirit and strength of God into the dead letter!"

John went out into the night to seek his master. "Sir," said the youth, when he stood before him, "what does it mean? They say that you have turned water into wine. I have often thought that you were different from all of us. You must be from Heaven."

"And why not you also, John, who look up to it? Can anyone attain the height who has not come from it?"

John remained standing by his side for a while. It was not always easy to grasp what he meant.

On their homeward way by night, the mother unburdened her anxious heart to her son. "You are so good, my child, and help people wherever you can. Why are you often so rough of speech?"

"Because they do not understand me," he replied; "because you, none of you, understand me. You think that if a man works at his wood in the carpenter's shop, then he's doing all that is necessary."

"Wood? Of course a carpenter has to work with wood. Do you want to be a stonemason? Think, stones are harder than wood."

"But they give fire when struck together. Wood gives no sparks, nor would the Nazarenes yield any sparks, even if lightning struck them. They are like earth and damp straw. They are incapable of enthusiasm: they are only capable of languid irritation. But you'll not build a kingdom of heaven with irritation. I despise the wood that always smokes and never burns."

"My son, I fear you will make such enemies of them that——"

"That I shall not be able to stay in Nazareth. Isn't that what you mean, mother?"

"I am anxious about you, my son."

"Happy the mother who is nothing worse. I am quite safe." He stopped and took her hand. "Mother, I'm no longer a child or a boy. Do not trouble about me. Let me be as I am, and go where I will. There are other tasks to be fulfilled than building Jonas a cottage or Sarah a sheep-pen. The old world is breaking up, and the old heaven is falling into ruin. Let me go, mother; let me be the carpenter who shall build up the kingdom of heaven."

The constellations spread themselves across the sky. Mary let her son go on before, down to the little town; she walked slowly behind and wept. She stood alone and had no influence with him. Every day he became more incomprehensible.

To what would it lead?



CHAPTER XI

A strange excitement prevailed among the people in Galilee, and spread through Samaria and Judaea even to Jerusalem. A new prophet had arisen. There were many in those days, but this one was different from the rest. As is always the way in such times, at first a few people paid heed feverishly, then they infected others with their unrest, and finally roused families and whole villages which had hitherto stood aloof. So at last all heeded the new prophet. At the time of the foreign rule old men had spoken of the King and Saviour who was to make the chosen people great and mighty. Expounders of the Scriptures had from generation to generation consoled those who were waiting and longing. Men had grown impatient under the intolerable foreign oppression, and a national desire and a religious expectation such as had never before been known in so high a degree had manifested itself.

And lo! strange rumours went through the land. As the south wind of spring blows over Lebanon, melts the ice, and brings forth buds, so were the hearts of men filled with new hope. A man out in the wilderness was preaching a new doctrine. For a long while he preached to stones, because, he said, they were not so hard as men's understanding. The stones themselves would soon speak, the mountains be levelled and the valleys filled up so that a smooth road might be ready for the Holy Spirit which was drawing nigh.

Men grew keenly interested in those tidings. Some said: "Let us go out and hear him just for amusement's sake." They came back and summoned others to go out and see the extraordinary man. He wore a garment of camel's hair instead of a cloak, and a leather girdle round his loins. His hair was long, black, and in disorder, his face sunburnt, and his eyes flamed as if in frenzy. But he was not an Arab nor an Amalekite; he was one of the chosen people. Down by the lake he was better known. He was the son of Zacharias, a priest and a native of the wonderful land of Galilee. The Galileans had at first mocked at him, and with a side glance at Jesus, said: "What a blessed land is Galilee, where new teachers of virtue are as plentiful as mushrooms in rainy weather!" Jesus retorted by asking whether they knew what kind of a people it was that only produced preachers of repentance?

The name of the preacher in the wilderness was John. More and more people went out to hear him, and everyone related marvels. He chased locusts and fed on them, and took the honey from the wild bees and swallowed it. He seemed to despise the ordinary food and customs of men. Since the murder of the innocents at Bethlehem, he had lived in the wilderness, dwelling in a cave high up in the rocks of the mountain. It almost seemed that he loved wild beasts better than men, whose cloak of virtue he hated because it was woven out of evil-smelling hypocrisy and wickedness.

They called him the herald. "We are surprised," they said, "that the Rabbis and High Priests in Capernaum, Tiberias, and Jerusalem should keep silent. They could put this man to death for his words." But the herald had no fear. He preached a new doctrine, and he poured water over the heads of those who joined him as a sign of the covenant.

"And what is his teaching?" asked others.

"Go and hear for yourselves!"

And so more and more people went out from Judaea and Galilee into the wilderness. The preacher had withdrawn a little way above the point where the river Jordan flows into the Dead Sea. The district, usually so deserted, was alive with all sorts of people, among them Rabbis and men learned in the law, who represented themselves as penitents, but desired to outwit the prophet with cunning. The preacher stood on a stone; he held a corner of his camel's hair garment, pressed against his hairy breast with one hand, and the other he stretched heavenwards and said: "Rabbis, are ye here too? Are ye at last afraid of the wrath of heaven which ye see approaching, and so take refuge with him who calls on ye to repent? Ye learned hypocrites! Ye stone him who can hurt you with a breath, and praise him who brings with him a human sacrifice. See that your repentance does not become your judge. But if it is sincere, then receive the water on your head as a token that you desire to be pure in heart."

Such were the words he spoke. The scholars laughed, scornfully; others grumbled at the severity of his remarks, but kneeled down. He took an earthen vessel, dipped it in the waters of Jordan, and poured it over their heads so that little streams ran down their necks and over their brows. A man raised his head and asked: "Will you give us commandments?"

The prophet answered: "You have two coats and only one body. Yonder against the oak is a man who has likewise a body but no coat. I give no commandments; but you know what to do."

So the man went and gave his second coat to him who had none.

A lean old man, a tax-gatherer from Jerusalem, asked what he should do, since everyone he met in the streets had a coat on his back.

"Do not ask more payment than is legal. Do not open your hand for silver pieces, nor shut your eyes to stolen goods."

"And we?" asked a Roman mercenary. "We are not the owners of our lives; are we, too, to have no commandments?"

"You have the sword. But the sword is violence, hatred, lust, greed. Take care! The sword is your sin and your judgment."

And then women came to him with a triumphant air, and exclaimed: "You wise man, you! We have no rights, so we have no duties? Is that not so?"

And the prophet said; "You assume rights for yourselves, and duties will be given you. The woman's commandment is: 'Thou shall not commit adultery.'"

"And what do you say to men?" asked one of them.

"Men have many commandments besides that one. You must not tempt them with snares of the flesh, for they have more important things to do in the world than to make themselves pleasant to women. You must not allure them with the colour of your cheeks, nor with the tangles of your hair, nor with your swelling breasts. You shall not attract the eye of man through beautiful garments and sparkling jewels. You shall not glisten like doves when you are false like snakes."

The women were angry, and tried to set snares for him. So they smiled sweetly, and asked: "Your words of wisdom, oh prophet! only concern the women of the people. Royally-born women are excepted."

Then spoke the preacher; "Women born in the purple are of the same stuff as the leprous beggar-woman who lies in the street. No woman is excepted. The wives of kings live in the sight of all, and must obey the law twice and thrice as strictly. Since Herod put away his rightful wife, the Arab king's daughter, and lives openly in incest with his brother's wife, the angel of hell will strike at her."

"You all hear," said the women, turning to the assembled crowd. Then they pulled up their gowns high over their ankles, stepped into the river where it is shallow, and bared their brown necks, in order that the wild preacher might pour the water over them. The men pressed closer, but the prophet tore a branch from the cedar and drove the hypocritical penitents back. Some were glad that sin had no power over this holy man.

Then they sent an old man to him to ask who he really was. "Are you the Messiah whom we are expecting?"

"I am not the Messiah," answered the preacher. "But he is coming after me. I prepare the way for him like the morning breeze ere the sun rises. As the heaven is above the earth, so is he greater than I. It is my prayer that I may be worthy to loosen his shoe latchets. I sprinkle your heads with water; he will sprinkle them with fire. He will separate you according as your hearts be good or evil. He will lay up the wheat in the garner with his fan and burn the chaff. Prepare yourselves—the kingdom of God is nearer than ye think."

The people were uneasy. Clouds came up over the mountains of Galilee, and their edges shone like silver. The air lay like a heavy weight over the valley of the Jordan, and not a twig stirred in the cedars. The strangers from Samaria and Judaea did not know the man who climbed down over the stones and went towards the preacher. He wore a blue woollen gown that came down over his knees, so that only his sandalled feet were seen. He might have been taken for a working man had not his head, with its high, pale forehead and heavy waving locks, been so royal. A soft beard sprang from his upper lip, and there was such a wonderful light in his dark blue eyes that some were almost frightened by it. And they asked each other: "Who is the man with the fiery eyes?"

He reached the prophet. One hand hung down: he held the other against his breast. He said softly; "John, pour water over my head, too."

The prophet looked at the young man and was terrified. He went back two steps—they knew not why. Did he himself know?

"You!" he said, almost under his breath. "You desire to receive the token of repentance from me?"

"I will do penance—for them all. I will begin with water what will be ended with blood." That is what they thought to hear. In a man who speaks like this, there is something incredibly spiritual.

"He is a dreamer! He is a madman!" the people whisper one to another.

"No, he's not, he's not!" others declare.

"Did he not speak of blood?"

"It seemed so. Such young blood, and already repenting!"

"And as proud of it as a Roman."

"With eyes glowing like an Arab's."

"Looking at his hair, you might take him for a German."

"He is neither a Roman, nor an Arab, nor a German," someone exclaimed, laughing; "he is the carpenter of Nazareth."

"The same who turned water into wine?"

"There are lots of stories about him. We know plenty of them."

"It is said that Herod's murder of the innocents was on his account."

When the crowd heard that, they were quiet, and looked at the new arrival with a sort of awe. And so old Herod had taken him for the Messiah-King!

A feeling of reverence spread among the people. For Jesus stepped into the river. The prophet dipped his vessel in the water and poured it over his lightly-bent head. The edges of the clouds in the heavens shone with the crimson light of evening. The eyes of the bystanders were riveted by a white speck which showed itself in the windows of heaven, first like a flower-bloom and then like a fluttering pennon. It was a dove that flew down and circled round the head of him who had just been baptized.

"My dearly beloved son!"

The people whispered; "Whose voice was it that said: 'My dearly beloved son'?"

"Didn't it refer to him over whom the water has just been poured?"

A shudder seized many of them. It was just as if he was presented to men by the invisible God!

"We will ask him himself whose son he is," they said, and pressed towards the river. But he had gone away, and the twilight of the desert lay over the stream.

The same night Mary sat in her room at Nazareth, and sewed. She kept looking out of the window, for she would not go to bed till Jesus returned. When he had gone out of the door two days ago, he had turned to her again, looked at her, and said:

"Mother, I go to my Father."

She thought he was going to the cemetery to pray at Joseph's tomb, as he often did. For in the city of the dead solitude may be found. When he returned neither on the first day nor on the second, she began to feel anxious. She waited up the whole night.

The next morning the little town rang with the news: "The carpenter has been seen with the preacher. He has been baptized."

"That's just like him. One enthusiast keeps company with another."

"It would be more correct to say with false prophets. For what else is it when a man declares that he can wash away sin with a dash of water?"

Thereupon a Sidonian donkey-driver, who had come down the street; "That's excellent! You Israelites can do so much with your ablutions. That would be a capital thing!"

"Ah! what things one hears! Everything points to the speedy destruction of the world." And one whispered in his ear, "I tell you, frankly, 'twould be no great misfortune."

"Now John has caught it. Do you know what he's always shouting?"

"The young carpenter, his apprentice? He's never said anything that matters."

"Do you know what he's always exclaiming? He strides through the streets, and his hair flies in the wind. He spreads out his hands before him, and says: 'The word has become flesh!'"

They shook their heads.

But Mary sat at the window and waited and watched.



CHAPTER XII

A very short time after these events there came two soldiers to the Jordan, not to have the water poured over their heads, but to arrest the desert preacher and take him to Jerusalem to Herod. Herod received him politely, and said: "I have summoned you here because I am told that you are the preacher."

"They call me preacher and Baptist."

"I want to hear you. And, indeed, you must refute what your enemies say against you."

"If it was only my enemies, it would be easy to refute them."

"They say that you insult my royal house, that you say the prince lives in incest with his brother's wife. Did you say that?"

"I do not deny it."

"You have come to withdraw it?"

"Sire," said the prophet, "I have come to repeat it. You are living in incest with your brother's wife. Know that the day of reckoning is at hand. It will come with its mercy, and it will come with its justice. Put away this woman."

Herod grew white with rage that a man of the people should dare to speak thus to him. Royal ears cannot endure such a thing, so he put the preacher in prison.

But the next night the prince had a bad dream. From the battlements he saw the city fall stone by stone into the abyss; he saw flames break out in the palace and temple, and the sound of infinite wailing rang through the air. When he awoke the words came into his mind: You who stone the prophets! and he determined to set the preacher free.

It was now the time when Herod should celebrate his birthday. Although Oriental wisdom advised that a birthday should be celebrated with mourning, a prince had no reason for so doing. Herod gave a banquet in honour of the day, and invited all the most important people in the province in order that while enjoying themselves they might have the opportunity of doing homage to him. He enjoyed himself royally, for Herodias, his brother's wife, was present, and her daughter, who was as lovely as her mother. She danced before him a series of dances which showed her beautiful figure, set off by the flowing white gown confined at the waist with a girdle of gold, to every advantage. Intoxicated by the feast and inflamed by the girl's beauty, the prince approached her, put his arm, from which the purple cloak had fallen back so that it was bare, round her warm neck, and held a goblet of wine to her lips. She smiled, did not drink, but said: "My lord and king! If I drank now from your goblet, you would drink at my lips. Those roses belong to my bridegroom."

"Who is the man who dares to be more fortunate than a king?" asked Herod.

"I do not yet know him," whispered the girl. "He is the man who shall give me the rarest bridal gift."

"And if it was Herod?"

The girl raised her almond eyes to the prince and said nothing. He almost lost his head with the sweetness of the shining eyes. "You are an enchanting witch, you!" he whispered. "Desire of me what you will."

The beauty had been primed by her mother, who wished to be revenged on John, whose prophecies might tear her from her kingly lover. The daughter breathed the words: "A dish for your table, O king!"

"A dish of meat? Speak more plainly."

"Let your bridal gift be a dish of rare meat on a golden charger."

"I do not understand what you want."

"The head of the Baptist."

The king understood, turned aside, and said: "Horror, thy name is woman!"

Then she wept and murmured between her sobs: "I knew it. A woman is nothing to you but a flower of the field. You cut it down so that it turns to hay. And hay is for asses. You care more for the man who has mortally insulted yourself and my mother than you do for me."

"Indeed, I do not! If he deserves death, you shall have your desire."

"When does he whom the king loves deserve death?" groaned the girl, and sank into a swoon. He lifted her up, drew her to his breast, and what her words could not accomplish the embrace did—it cost the Baptist his life.

The banquet was most sumptuous. The most delicious viands, gathered from every quarter, and sparkling wines graced the table. Harp players stood by the marble pillars, and sang praises to the king. Herod, a garland of red roses round his head, sat between the two women. He drank freely of the wine, and so hurriedly that the liquid dripped from his long, thin beard. Was he afraid of the last course? It appeared at midnight. It was covered with a white cloth, and only the beautifully-chased edge of the charger was visible. Herod shuddered and signed that the dish should be placed before the young woman who sat on his left. She hastily pulled off the cloth, and behold! a man's head; the black hair and beard, steeped in the blood that ran from the neck, lay in the charger. It stared with open eyes at the woman who, filled with voluptuous horror, leaned closely against the prince. Then the mouth of the head opened and spoke the words: "The Kingdom of God is near at hand!"

Horror and confusion filled the banqueting hall. "Who dared to say that?" shouted several voices. "'Twas the head of the prophet who prophesies even in death!"

Then a tumult arose in the palace, for this was the most terrible horror that the golden halls had ever seen. Long-restrained fury suddenly burst forth—the town was in flames, the men of Jerusalem rioted. The women were torn from Herod's side, and flung into the streets to the mercy of the mob. The prince was forced to fly. The story goes that in his flight he fell into the hands of the Arab king, who avenged his despised daughter in a terrible manner. Thus were godless hands stretched forth from Herod's house against him who bore witness to the coming One.

* * * * * *

After the act of baptism was accomplished, Jesus wandered for a long, long while—indeed, he paid no heed to time—along the banks of Jordan. Then he climbed the rocks, and when in the twilight he came to himself again and looked about, he saw that he was in the wilderness. The revelation vouchsafed at his baptism had snatched him from the earth. In that mysterious vision he had opened to him the new path which he had chosen to follow. What eternal peace surrounded him. Yet he was not alone among the barren rocks; never in his life had he been less lonely than here in the dim terrors of the wilderness. A deep silence prevailed. The stars in the sky sparkled and sparkled, and the longer he gazed at them the more ardently they seemed to burn. Gradually they seemed to sink downwards, and to become suns, while fresh legions pressed ever forward from the background, flying down unceasingly, the large and the small and the smallest, with new ones ever welling up from space—an inexhaustible source of heavenly light.

Jesus stood up erect. And when he lifted up his face it seemed as if his eye was the nucleus of all light.

So he forgot the world and remained in the wilderness. Each day he penetrated deeper into it, past abysses and roaring beasts. The stones tore his feet, but he marked it not; snakes stung his heels, but he noticed it not. Whence did he obtain nourishment? What cleft in the rocks afforded him shelter?—that is immaterial to him who lives in God. Once he had regarded the world and its powers as hard taskmasters, and now they seemed to him to be as nothing, for in him and with him was eternal strength. The old traditional Jehovah of Jewish hearts was no more; his was the all-embracing One, who carried the heavens and the earth in his hand, who called to the children of men: Return! and who stooped down to every seedling in order to awaken it. He himself became conscious of God—and after that, what could befall him?

One day he descended between the rocky stones to the coast of the Dead Sea that lay dark and still, little foam-tipped waves breaking on the shore. The expanse of water was lost in darkness in the distance, and stretched away heavy and lifeless. Cleft blocks of stone were scattered along the beach, and their tops glowed as red as iron in the forge. It was the hour of sunset. The towering stones stood like giant torches, and the bright colour was reflected on the bare pebbles on which the water lapped. For many thousands of years the fine yellow sand had drifted down from the walls of rock, and lay over the wide sloping plains of the shore. It was like dry, light "stone-snow," and Jesus, who strode over it, left his footprints in it. The next gust of wind disturbed it, the "stone-snow" was whirled about, and the dark stones were laid bare. Men are engulfed in those sand-fields, which, broken by blocks of stone, stretch away into infinity. Witness the bones which may be seen here and there, remains of dead beasts, and also legs and skulls of men who perished as hermits, or became the prey of lions. Such skulls with their grinning teeth, warned the traveller to turn back as he valued his life. Here is death! Jesus laid his hands over his breast. Here is life! The greater the loneliness, the more keenly may the nearness of God be realised.

Jesus preferred the rocky heights to the plain. He could see the wide expanse of the sky, and the clouds which wandered over its face and then disappeared like nations of nomads.

One day, in such a spot, he met an Arab chief. He was of gigantic stature, dressed in the dark cloak of the Bedouins, with a wild, grey beard, and a snub nose in a bony face. Beneath bushy eyebrows were a pair of unsteady eyes. His belt was full of weapons, his head was adorned with an iron band which kept his wild hair in some sort of order. The man looked at the young hermit not unkindly and called him a worm who should pray that he might be mercifully trodden under foot. He must either swear allegiance to the desert chief, or be burned up by the hot stones.

Jesus scarcely heeded the impertinent speech. He only saw in the stranger a man on whom he would like to bestow all the happiness that was triumphant in his soul. So full of love was he that he could not bear it alone. And he said: "I am no worm to be trodden under foot. I am that Son of Man who brings you the new kingdom."

"Ah! the Messiah! Jesus of Nazareth, are you not? I have heard of you. Where are your soldiers?"

"I shall not conquer with the sword, but with the spirit."

The Arab shook his head mockingly. "Who will conquer with the spirit! Well, I won't play the scoffer. You are an orator, and that's something. Listen, son of man; I like you. I, too, desire the new kingdom; let us go together."

And Jesus replied: "Whoever wishes can go with me. I go with no one."

"My friend, don't you know me?" asked the stranger. "I am Barabbas, king of the desert. Three thousand Arabs obey my behests. Look down into the valley. There is the key to the kingdom of the Messiah."

What the chief called the key to the kingdom of the Messiah was an army which, scattered over the plain, resembled a dark spot spreading out in the desert, as busy and animated as an ant-hill. The chief pointed down to it and said: "Look, there is my weapon. But I shall not conquer with that weapon, nor will you conquer with your words. For my weapons lack words, and your words lack weapons. I need the prophet and you the army. Warrior and orator allied, we shall take Jerusalem. I have made a mistake. For many years it has been my illusion that all strength lay in the body. And so I have cared for their bodies, fed and nourished them that they might become strong. But instead of becoming strong and daring, they have become indolent and cowardly. And now that I wish to use this army to free Judaea from the yoke of the Romans, they laugh in my face and answer me with words I once taught them. We have only this life, they cry, and we will not risk it any more. And when I ask, 'Not even for freedom?' they reply, 'Not even for freedom, because what is the use of freedom to us if we are slain.' Indolent beasts! they lack enthusiasm. And now I find you. You are a master of oratory. You say that you will conquer with the spirit. Come with me! Descend into the valley and inspire them with ardour. The legions are ours, our weapons are of perfect temper, nothing is wanting but fire, and that you have. The king must be allied with the zealot, otherwise the kingdom cannot be conquered. Come down with me. Tell them that you are the prophet. Incite them against Jerusalem, and exclaim: 'It is God's will!' If only fire can be made to burn within them, they will march like the very devil, overcome the foreigners, and you will instruct them in Solomon's Temple about the Messiah. You can tell them that he is coming, or that you yourself are he, just as you please. Then, according to your desire, you can establish your kingdom, and all the glory of the world will lie at your feet as at those of a god. Come, prophet, you give me the word, and I'll give you the sword!"

"Begone, you tempter of hell!" exclaimed Jesus and his eye shot forth a ray of light that the other could not bear.

And then Jesus was once more alone among the rocks, under the open sky.

It was under the sacred sky of the desert where his Father came down to him that his spirit became quite free—his heart more animated, glowing with love. And thus was Jesus perfected. Leaving the desert, he then sought out the fertile land; he sought out men.

His earthly task stood clear and fixed before him.



CHAPTER XIII

The Lake of Gennesaret, also called the Sea of Galilee, lies to the east of Nazareth, where the land makes a gradual descent, and where, among the hills and the fertile plains, pleasant villages are situated. The mountains of Naphtali, which in some places rise up steeply from its banks, were clothed with herbage in the days of David. But gradually, as stranger peoples cultivated them, fertility descended to the hills and valleys.

Near where the Jordan flows into the sea, on the left of the river under the sandy cliffs of Bethsaida, a small cedar forest, the seeds of which may have been blown thither from Lebanon, grows close down to the shore of the lake. A fisher-boat, rocking in the shade on the dark waters, was tied to one of the trees. The holes in it were stuffed with seaweed, the beams fastened with olive twigs. Two tall poles crossed were intended for the sail, which now lay spread out in the boat because the boatman was sleeping on it. The brown stuff, made of camel's hair, was the man's most valuable possession. On the water it caught the wind for him, on land it served as a cloak, if he slept it formed his bed.

The little elderly man's face was tickled by a cedar twig for so long that at length he awoke. He saw a young woman sitting on a rock. She was just going to hurry off with her round basket when the fisherman called loudly to her; "Well, Beka, daughter of Manasseh, whither are you taking your ivory white feet?"

"My feet are as brown as yours," replied Beka. "Stop mocking at me, Simon."

"How can I be mocking at you? You're a fisherman's child, like me. But your basket is too heavy for you."

"I am taking my father his dinner."

"Manasseh has had a good catch. Look, smoke is rising yonder behind the palms of Hium. He is cooking the fish. But I have eaten nothing since yesterday at the sixth hour."

"I can well believe that, Simon. The fish of the Lake of Gennesaret do not swim ready-cooked into the mouth. He who lies like a child in the cradle, and lets the gods provide——!"

Simon, with his legs apart in order to preserve the balance, stood up in the boat. "Beka," he said, "let the gods alone, they won't feed us; they eat the best that men have."

"Then hold to the one God who feeds the birds."

"And who delivers the Jews to the Romans. No; Jehovah won't help me either. So I'm forsaken and stand alone, a tottering reed."

"How can I help it if you stand alone?" asked the daughter of Manasseh. "Are there not daughters in Galilee who also stand alone?"

"Beka, I am glad that you speak so," replied the fisherman. "Why, how can Simon come to an understanding with anybody so long as he can't come to an understanding with himself? And fishing delights me not. Everything is a burden. Often when I lie here and look up into the blue sky, I think: If only a storm would come and drive me out on the open sea—into the wild, dark terror, then, Simon, you would lie there and extend your arms and say: Gods or God, do with me what you will."

"Don't talk like that, Simon. You must not jest with the Lord. There, take it."

And so saying, Beka took a magnificent bunch of grapes out of her basket, and handed it to him.

He took it, and by way of thanks said: "Beka, a year hence there'll be some one who will find in you that sweet experience which I vainly seek in the Prophets."

Whereupon she swiftly went her way towards the blue smoke that rose up behind the palms of Hium.

It was no wonder that the fisherman gazed after her for a long time. Although he cared little for the society of his fellow-creatures, because they were too shallow to sympathise with what occupied his thoughts, he felt a cheerless void when he was alone. He was misunderstood on earth, and forsaken by Heaven. He feared the elements, and the Scriptures did not satisfy him. Then the little man threw himself on his face, put his hand into the water of the lake, and sprinkled his brow with it. He seated himself on the bench of the boat in order to enjoy Beka's gift.

At the same moment the sand on the bank crackled, and a tall man, in a long brown cloak, and carrying a pilgrim's staff, came forward. His black beard fell almost to his waist, where a cord held the cloak together. His high forehead was shaded by a broad-brimmed hat; his eye was directed to the fisherman in the boat.

"Boatman, can you take three men across the lake?"

"The lake is wide," answered Simon, pointing to his fragile craft.

"They want to get to Magdala to-day."

"Then they can take the road by Bethsaida and Capernaum."

"They are tired," said the other. "They have travelled here from the desert, and by a wide detour through Nazareth, Cana, and Chorazin."

"Are you one of them?" asked Simon. "I ought to know you. Haven't we been fishing together at Hamath?"

"It may be that we know each other," was the somewhat roguish reply. In fact, they knew each other very well. Only Simon had become so strange.

Now he said: "If it will really be of service to you, I'll go gladly. But you see for yourself that my boat is bad. You are exhausted, my friend; you have travelled far while I have rested in the shade the whole day. I haven't deserved any fine food. May I offer you these grapes?"

The black-bearded man bent down, took the grapes, and vanished behind the cypresses.

He went to a shady spot where were two other men, both dressed in long, dark woollen garments. One was young and had delicate, almost feminine, features, and long hair. He lay sleeping, stretched out on the grass, his staff leaning against a rock near him. The other sat upright. We recognise Him. He is Jesus, the carpenter of Nazareth. He has come hither from the wilderness, through Judaea and Galilee, where sympathising companions joined Him, a boatman, called James, and His former apprentice, John. With one hand He supported His brow, the other rested protectingly on the sleeping John's head. The long-bearded man came hurrying up, crying: