Joseph was glad of his clerk's help, and he returned to the ledger, and, staring at figures which he did not see, he sat thinking of Jesus, of the night they walked by the lake's edge, of the day spent in the woods above Capernaum, and the various towns of Syria that they visited. It seemed to him that the good days had gone over for ever, and it was but a sad pleasure to remember the pagans that liked Jesus' miracles without being able to abandon their own gods. Only Peter could bring a smile into his face; a smile wandered round his lips, for it was impossible to think of Peter and not to smile. But the smile faded quickly and the old pain gripped his heart.

I have lost Jesus for ever, he said, and at that moment a sudden rap at his door awoke him from his reveries. He was angry with his clerk, but he tried to disguise his anger, for he was conscious that he must present a very ridiculous appearance to his clerk, unless, indeed, which was quite likely, his clerk was indifferent to anything but the business of the counting-house. Be this as it may, he was an old and confidential servant who made no comments and asked no questions. Joseph was grateful to his clerk for his assumed ignorance and an hour later Joseph bade him good-night. I shall see thee in the morning, to which Samuel answered: yes, sir; and Joseph was left alone in the crowded street of Jerusalem, staring at the passengers as they went, wondering if they were realities, everyone compelled by a business or a desire, or merely shadows, figments of his imagination and himself no more than a shadow, a something that moved and that must move across the valley of Jehoshaphat and up the Mount of Olives. Why that way more than any other way? he asked himself: because it is the shortest way. As if that mattered, he added, and as soon as he reached the top of the Mount of Olives he looked over the desert and was surprised by the smallness of the hills; like the people who lived among them, they seemed to him to have dwindled. The world is much smaller than I thought, he said. That is it, the world seems to have dwindled into a sort of ash-heap; life has become as tasteless as ashes. It can only end, he said to himself, by my discovering something that interests me, but nothing interests me except Jesus. Lack of desire, he said, is my burden, for, desiring one thing too much, I have lost desire for all else, and that is why life has come to me like an ash-heap.

As the days went by he began to feel life more oppressive and unendurable, till one evening the thought crossed his mind that change of scene might be a great benefit to him. If he were to go to Egypt, he would journey for fifteen days through the desert, the rocking stride of the camel would keep him from thinking, and he might arrive in Egypt eager to listen to the philosophers again. But the temptations that Egypt presented faded almost as soon as they had arisen, and he deemed that it might be better for him to choose a city oversea. A sea voyage, he thought, will cheer me more than a long journey across the desert, and Joppa is but a day's journey from Jerusalem. But the shipping is more frequent from Caesarea, and it is not as far; and for a moment it seemed to him that he would like to be on board a ship watching the wind making the sail beautiful. But to what port should he be making for? he asked. Why not to Greece?—for there are philosophers as great or greater than those of Alexandria. But philosophers are out of my humour, he added, and, putting Athens aside, he bethought himself of Corinth, and the variegated world he would meet there. From every port ships come to Corinth, bringing different habits, customs, languages, religions; and for the better part of the evening Corinth seemed to be his destination.

Corinth was famous for its courtesans, and he remembered suddenly that the most celebrated were collected there; and it may have been the courtesans that kept him from this journey, and his thoughts turning from vice to marriage a bitterness rose up in his mind against his father for the persistency with which Dan reminded him in and out of season that every man's duty is to bring children into the world.

It had seemed to him that in asking him to take a wife to his discomfort his father was asking him too much, and he had put the question aside; but he was now without will to resist any memory that might befall him, and for the first time he allowed his thoughts to dwell on his father's implied regret that he had never caught his son near a servant girl's bed. His unwillingness to impugn his father's opinions kept him heretofore from pondering on his words, but feeling his life to be now broken and cast away, there seemed to arise some reasons for an examination of his father's words. They could not mean anything else than that a young man was following the natural instincts if he lingered about a young girl's room; and that to be without this instinct was almost a worse misfortune than to be possessed by it to the practical exclusion of other interests.

His father, it is true, may have argued the matter out with himself somewhat in this fashion: that love of women in a man may be controlled; and looking back into his own life he may have found this view confirmed. Joseph remembered that his grandmother often spoke to him of Dan's great love of his wife, and it might be that he had never loved another woman; few men, however, were as fortunate as his father, and Joseph could not help thinking that it were better to put women out of his mind altogether than to become inflamed by the sight of every woman. He believed that was why he had always kept all thoughts of women out of his mind; but it seemed to him now that a wife would break the monotony that he saw in front of him, and were he to meet a woman such as his father seems to have met he might take her to live with him. He thought of himself as her husband, though he was by no means sure that married life was a possible makeshift for the life he sought and was obliged to forgo, but as life seemed an obligation from which he could not reasonably escape he thought he would like to share it with some woman who would give him children. His father desired grandchildren, and since he had partly sacrificed his life for his father's sake, he might, it seemed to him, sacrifice himself wholly. But could he? That did not depend altogether on himself, and with the view to discovering the turn of his sex instinct he called to mind all the women he had seen, asking himself as each rose up before him if he could marry her. There were some that seemed nearer to his desire than others, and it was with the view to honourable marriage that he called upon his friends, and his father's friends, and passed his eyes over all their daughters; but the girl whose image had lingered more pleasantly than any other in his memory had married lately, and all the others inspired only a physical aversion which he felt none would succeed in overcoming. He had seen some Greek women, and been attracted in a way, for they were not too like their sex; but these Jewish women—the women of his race—seemed to him as gross in their minds as in their bodies, and it surprised him to find that though many men seemed to think as he did about these women, they were not repelled as he was, but accepted them willingly, even greedily, as instruments of pleasure and afterwards as mothers of children. But I am not as these men are, he said; my father must bear his sorrow like another; and in meditation it seemed to him that it would not be reasonable that his father should get everything he desired and his son nothing.

His father had gotten more out of life than ever he should get; he would have his son till he died (so far as he could he would secure him that satisfaction), and after death this world and its shows concern us not. But it may well be that we die out of one life to be born into another life, that everything that passes is replaced by an equivalent, he said, repeating the words of a Greek philosopher to whom he had been much addicted in happy days gone by, and that reality is but an eternal shaping and reshaping of things. All that is beyond doubt, he continued, is that things pass too quickly for us to have any certain knowledge of them, our only standard being our own flitting impressions; and as all men bring a different sensitiveness into the world, knowledge is a word without meaning, for there can be no knowledge. Every race is possessed of a different sensitiveness, he said, as he passed up the Mount of Olives on his way home. We ask for miracles, but the Greeks are satisfied with reason. Am I Greek or Jew? he asked, for he was looking forward to some silent hours with a book of Greek philosophy and hoped to forget himself in the manuscript. But he could not always keep his thoughts on the manuscript, and, forgetful of Heraclitus, he often sat thinking of Jesus' promise—that one morning men would awake to find that God had come to judge the world and divide it among those that repented their sins. He remembered he had forfeited his share in the Kingdom for his father's sake, or had he been driven out of the community because his belief in the coming of the Kingdom was insufficient? It is true that his belief had wavered, but he had always believed. Even his natural humility, of which he was conscious, did not allow him to doubt that his belief in Jesus was less fervid than that of Peter, James, John and the residue. The conviction was always quick in him that he felt more deeply than these publicans and fishers, yet Jesus retained them and sent him away.

The manuscript glided from his hand to the floor, and his thoughts wandered back to Alexandria, and he sat thinking that death must be rather the beginning than the end of things, for it were impossible to believe that life was an end in itself. Heraclitus was right: his present life could be nothing else but the death of another life. And as if to enforce this doctrine a recollection of his grandmother intruded upon his meditation. She was seventy-eight when she died, and her intellect must have faded some months before, but with her passing one of the servants told him that a curious expression came into her face—a sort of mocking expression, as if she had learnt the truth at last and was laughing at the dupes she left behind. She lay in a grave in Galilee, under some pleasant trees, and while thinking of her grave it occurred to him that he would not like to be put into the earth; his fancy favoured a tomb cut out of the rocks in Mount Scropas, for there, he said to himself, I shall be far from the Scribes and Pharisees, and going out on the terrace he stood under the cedars and watched for an hour the outlines of the humped hills that God had driven in endless disorder, like herds of cattle, all the way to Jericho, thinking all the while that it would be pleasant to lie out of hearing of all the silly hurly-burly that we call life. But the hurly-burly would not be silly if Jesus were by him, and he asked himself if Jesus was an illusion like all the rest, and as soon as the pain the question provoked had died away, his desire of a tomb took possession of him again, and it left him no peace, but led him out of the house every evening, up a zigzagging path along the hillside till he came to some rocks over against the desert. I shall lie in quiet here till he calls me, on a couch embedded in the wall and surmounted by an arch—but if he should prefer me to rise out of an humble grave? That I may not know, only that the poorest is not as unhappy as I, so I may as well have a tomb to my liking.

It was a long time since he had come to a resolve, and having come to one at last, he was happier. And in more cheerful mood he decided that now that the site was settled it would be well to seek information as to which are the best workmen to employ on the job.

But for him whose thoughts run on death nothing is harder to settle than where his bones shall lie; and next time he visited the hillside Joseph came upon rocks facing eastward, and it seemed to him that the rays of the rising sun should fall on his sepulchre; but a few days later, coming out of his house in great disquiet, it seemed to him he would lie happy if his tomb were visited every evening by the peaceful rays of the setting sun, and he asked himself how many years of life he would have to drag through before God released him from his prison. If he wished to die he could, for our lives are in our own hands. But he did not know that he cared to die and, overpowered with grief, he abandoned himself to metaphysical speculation, asking himself again if it were not true that to be born into this world meant to pass out of one life into another; therefore, if so, to die in this world only meant to pass into another, a life unknown to us, for all is unknown—nothing being fixed or permanent. We cannot bathe twice in the same river, so Heraclitus said, but we cannot bathe even once in the same river, he added; and to carry the master's thought a stage further was a pleasure, if any moment of his present life could be called pleasurable. He heard these sayings first in Alexandria, and, looking towards Jerusalem, he tried to recall the exact words of the sage regarding the futility of sacrifice. Our priests try, said Heraclitus, to purify themselves with blood and we admire them, but if a filthy man were to roll himself in the mud in the hope of cleaning himself we should think he was mad. In some such wise Heraclitus spoke, but it seemed to Joseph he had lost something of the spirit of the saying in too profuse wording of it. As he sought for the original epitome he heard his name called, and awaking from his recollections of Alexandria he looked up and saw before him a young man whom he remembered having seen at the Sanhedrin. Nicodemus was his name; and he remembered how the fellow had kept his eyes on him for one whole evening, trying at various times to engage him in talk; an insistent fellow who, despite rebuffs, had followed him into the street after the meeting, and, refusing to be shaken off, had led the way so skilfully that Joseph found himself at last on Nicodemus' doorstep and with no option but to accept Nicodemus' invitation to enter. He did not like the fellow, but not on account of his insistence; it was not his insistence that had prejudiced him against him as much as the young man's elaboration of raiment, his hairdressing above all; he wore curls on either side that must have taken his barber a long while to prepare, and he exhaled scents. He wore bracelets, and from his appearance Joseph had not been able to refrain from imagining lascivious pictures on the walls of his house and statues in the corners of the rooms—in a word, he thought he had been persuaded to enter an ultra-Greek house.

In this he was, however, mistaken, and in the hour they spent together his host's thoughts were much less occupied than Joseph expected them to be with the jewels on his neck and his wrists, and the rich tassels on his sash. He talked of many things, but his real thoughts were upon arms; and he showed Joseph scimitars and daggers. Despite a long discussion on the steel of Damascus, Joseph could not bring himself to believe that Nicodemus' interests in heroic warfare were more than intellectual caprice: and he regarded as entirely superficial Nicodemus' attacks on the present-day Jews, whose sloth and indolence he reproved, saying that they had left the heroic spirit brought out of Arabia with their language, on the banks of the Euphrates. One hero, he admitted, they had produced in modern times (Judas Maccabeus), and Joseph heard for the first time that this great man always had addressed his soldiers in Hebrew. All the same he did not believe that Nicodemus was serious in his passionate demands for the Hebrew language, which had not been spoken since the Jews emerged from the pastoral stage. We should do well, Nicodemus said, to engage others to look to our flocks and herds, so that we may have leisure to ponder the texts of Talmud, nor do I hesitate to condemn my own class, the Sadducees, as the least worthy of all; for we look upon the Temple as a means of wealth, despising the poor people, who pay their half-shekel and bring their rams and their goats and bullocks hither.

He could talk for a long time in this way, his eyes abstracted from Joseph, fixed on the darkness of the room. While listening to him Joseph had often asked himself if there were a real inspiration behind that lean face, carven like a marble, with prominent nose and fading chin, or if he were a mere buffoon.

He succeeded in provoking a casual curiosity in Joseph, but he had not infected Joseph with any desire of his acquaintance; his visits to the counting-house had not been returned. Yet this meeting on the hillside was not altogether unwelcome, and Joseph, to his surprise, surveyed the young man's ringlets and bracelets with consideration; he admired his many weapons, and listened to him with interest. He talked well, telling that the sword that hung from his thigh was from Damascus and recommending a merchant to Joseph who could be trusted to discover as fine a one for him. It was not wise to go about this lonely hillside unarmed, and Joseph was moved to ask him to draw the sword from its scabbard, which Nicodemus was only too glad to do, calling Joseph's attention to the beautiful engraving on the blade, and to the hilt studded with jewels. He drew a dagger from his jacket, a hardly less costly weapon, and Joseph was too abashed to speak of his buckler on his left arm and the spear that he held in his right hand. But, nothing loath, Nicodemus bubbled into explanation. It was part of his project to remind his fellow-countrymen that they too must arm themselves if they ever wished to throw off the Roman yoke.

So long as the Romans substitute a Hebrew word or letter for the head of Tiberius on the coin we pay the tribute willingly, he said as they followed the crooked path through the rocks up the hillside towards Joseph's house. And in reply to Joseph, who asked him if he believed in the coming end of the world, he answered that he did, but he interpreted the coming end of the world to mean the freeing of the people of Israel from the Roman yoke, astonishing Joseph by the vigour of his reply; for Joseph was not yet sure which was the truer part of this young man, the ringlets and the bracelets or the shield and the spear.

He was partial to long silences; and the next of these was so long that Joseph had begun to wonder, but when they reached the crest of the hill he burst into speech like a bird into song, asking what was happening in Galilee, avouching much interest in Jesus, whom he had heard of, but had never seen. Joseph, guessing that it was to obtain news of Jesus that Nicodemus sought him on the hillside, told him that he had not spoken of Jesus for many weeks, and found a sudden relief in relating all he knew about him: how Jesus said that father, mother, brother and sister must be abandoned. Yes, he had said, we must look upon all sacrifice as naught if we would obtain our ancient kingdom and language. But the Essenes have never spoken like that, Nicodemus urged: he is not an Essene, nor Moses, nor Elijah, nor Jeremiah. He is none of these: he is Judas Maccabeus come to life again: and henceforth I shall look upon myself as his disciple.

He spoke so loudly that any passer-by might have caught up his words; and there was danger from Joseph's servants, for they were now standing by his gate. He looked round uneasily, and as Nicodemus showed no signs of taking leave of him, he thought it would be more prudent to ask him into the house, warning him, however, that he had no beautiful things to show him in the way of engraved weapons, swords from Damascus or daggers from Circassia. It was not, however, to see beautiful weapons that Nicodemus inclined; only so far as they related to Jesus was he interested in arms; and he besought Joseph to tell him more of Jesus, whom he seemed to have already accepted as the leader of a revolt against the Romans. But Joseph, who had begun to fear the young man, protested that Jesus' Kingdom was not of this earth, thinking thereby to discredit Jesus in Nicodemus' eyes. Nicodemus was not to be put off so easily: the Jews spoke of the Kingdom of Heaven so that they might gain the kingdom of earth. A method not very remarkable for its success, Joseph interposed. The Romans do otherwise, never thinking about the Kingdom of Heaven, but only of riches and vainglory, whereas Jesus, he said, says it is as hard for the rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven as it would be for a sword to pass through the eye of a needle. A sword through the eye of a needle, Nicodemus repeated, walking up and down the floor, stamping his lance as he went. He is the leader we have been waiting for. But it is not always thus that he speaks, Joseph interposed, I have heard him myself say: it is as hard for a rich man to enter heaven as it would be for a cow to calve in a rook's nest. As he went to and fro Nicodemus muttered: there is much to be said for this revision of his words. Jesus wishes to reach the imagination of the poor that know not swords. And he spoke for a long time of the indolence of the rich, of their gross pleasures and sensual indulgences. But we must give them swords, he added under his breath, as if he were speaking for himself alone and did not wish Joseph to hear, and then, awaking from his reverie, he turned to his host: tell me more of this remarkable man. And Joseph, who was now a little amused at his guest's extravagances, asked him if he knew the answer he had given to Antipas, who had invited him to his court in Tiberias in consequence of the renown of his miracles. Wishing to witness some exhibition of his skill, Antipas seated himself in imperial fashion on his highest throne, and, drawing his finest embroideries about him, asked Jesus if he had seen anybody attired so beautifully before, to which Jesus, who stood between two soldiers, a beggar in rags, before the king, replied: I have indeed; pheasants and peacocks, for nature apparelled them. Neither Moses nor Elijah nor Jeremiah, Nicodemus declared, could have invented a reply more apt. He asked Joseph if any further doubt lingered in his mind that Jesus was the prophet promised to the Jews. How I envy thy intercourse with him, he cried. How I envy thee, for thou art the friend of him that will overthrow the Romans.

Overthrow the Romans! Joseph repeated to himself, and as soon as his guest had left his house he was brought to a presentiment of the danger he incurred in allowing this man to come to his house: a young man who walked about extravagantly armed would, sooner or later, find himself haled before Pilate. Joseph felt that it would be better to refuse to see him if he called at the counting-house: an excuse could be found easily: his foreman might say: Master is away in Jericho. But when Nicodemus called a few weeks afterwards Joseph was constrained to tell his foreman to tell Nicodemus that he would see him. The truth was, Joseph was glad of an interruption, for his business was boring him more than it did usually, but he liked to pretend to himself that he could not escape from Nicodemus.

A new opinion of Nicodemus began to shape itself in his mind when Nicodemus said that many and many a year will have to pass before that can be done with success, and the Roman rule is so light that the people feel it not. It saves us from quarrels among ourselves, and who have quarrelled as bitterly as we have done? Joseph's heart softened at this appreciation of the Jewish people, and they began to talk in sympathy for the first time, and it was a pleasure to find themselves in this agreement, that before the Jews could conquer the Romans they would have to conquer themselves. He is more cautious than I thought for, Joseph muttered as he returned to his camel-drivers, for his guest had departed suddenly without giving any reason for his visitation. A spy he cannot be, Joseph said to himself. I stand too well with Pilate to be suspected of schemes of mutiny. But he will soon come under the notice of Pilate; and Joseph was not surprised when Pilate asked him if he knew an extravagantly dressed young man, Nicodemus by name. Joseph replied that he did, giving Pilate to understand that Nicodemus was no more than one of the many eccentrics to be found in every city, with a taste for the beauty of engraved swords, and little for the use of these weapons; and Pilate, who seemed to be of the same opinion himself, suddenly asked him if he had ever met in Galilee one named Jesus. Jesus from Nazareth, Pilate said; and Joseph watched the tall, handsome, pompous Roman, one of those intelligently stupid men of which there are so many about. He arrived, Pilate continued, in Jerusalem yesterday with a number of Galileans, all talking of the resurrection, and news has just reached me that he had been preaching in the Temple, creating some disturbance, which will, I hope, not be repeated, for disturbances in the Temple lead to disturbances in the streets. Does your father know this new prophet? As Joseph was about to answer one of Pilate's apparitors entered suddenly with papers that demanded the procurator's attention. We will talk over this on another occasion, Pilate said as he bent over the papers, and Joseph went out muttering: so he has come, so he has come to Jerusalem at last.

At any moment he might meet Jesus, and to stop to speak to him in the street would, in a sense, involve a profanation of his oath to his father; and he knew he could not turn aside from Jesus. He must therefore refrain from going up to Jerusalem and transact his business from his house by means of messengers. But if Pilate were to send for him? We cannot altogether avoid risk, he said to himself. I can do no more than remain within doors.

It was not many days afterwards that one of his servants came suddenly into the room. Nicodemus, Sir, is waiting in the hall and would see you, though I told him you were engaged with business. He says the matter on which he is come to speak to you is important. Well, then, let me see him, Joseph answered.

Now, what has happened? he asked. Has he said anything that the Sanhedrin will be able to punish him for? He threw some more olive roots on the fire and told the servant to bring a lamp. A lamp, he said, will be welcome, for this grey dusk is disheartening.

The weather is cold, so draw your chair near to the fire. I am glad to see you. The men waited for the servant to leave the room. We shall be more comfortable when the curtains are drawn. The lamp, I see, is beginning to burn up.... Nicodemus sat grave and hieratic, thin and tall, in the high chair, and the gloom on his face was so immovable that Joseph wasted no words. What has fallen out? he said, and Nicodemus asked him if he knew Phinehas, the great money-changer in the Temple. Joseph nodded, and, holding his hands before the fire, Nicodemus told his story very slowly, exasperating Joseph by his slowness; but he did not dare to bid him to hasten, and, holding himself in patience, he listened to him while he told that Phinehas was perhaps the worst of the extorters, the most noisy and arrogant, a vicious and quarrelsome man, who, yester-morning, was engaged with a rich Alexandrian Jew, Shamhuth, who had lately arrived from Alexandria and was buying oxen, rams and ewes in great numbers for sacrifice. We wondered at his munificence, Nicodemus said, not being able to explain it to ourselves, for the Feast of the Tabernacles is over; and our curiosity was still more roused when it became known that he was distributing largess. The man's appearance aroused suspicion, for it is indeed a fearful one. From his single eye to his chin a fearful avariciousness fills his face, and the empty, withered socket speaks of a close, sordid, secret passion, and so clearly that Jesus said: that man has not come to glorify God nor to repent of his sins. He is guilty of a great crime, and he would have it forgiven him. But the crime? Of what crime is he guilty? we asked. Jesus did not answer us, for at that moment some young man had come to listen to him, and the man's crime appeared to him as of little importance compared to his own teaching. Has he come, we asked, to pray that his sight may be restored to him? Jesus motioned to us that that was so; and he also bade us be silent, for stories of miracles have a great hold upon the human mind, and Jesus wished to teach some young men who had come to ask him how they were to live during these last days. But myself, consumed with desire to hear the man's story, mingled with the herdsmen who had brought in the cattle, and inquired how Shamhuth had lost his eye. None could tell me, and I failed to get tidings of him till I came upon an Alexandrian Jew who told me a strange story. Shamhuth's money came from his friend's wife, whom he married after causing him to be killed by hirelings; and when his senses tired of her he persuaded her daughter to come over to him in the night. Shamhuth always walked praying aloud, his eyes cast down lest they should fall upon a woman, and his wife did not suspect him. But one night she was bidden in a dream to seek her husband, and rising from her bed she descended and opened the door very softly, not wishing to disturb him in his sleep. The sight that met her eyes kindled such a great flame of hate in her that she returned to her room for a needle, and placing her hands upon her daughter's mouth she quickly pricked out both her eyes, and then, approaching her husband, she pricked out his right eye, and was about to prick out the other, but he slid from her hands and escaped, blind of an eye, to Jerusalem, bringing with him great sums of money in the hope that he may purchase a miracle, which is a great blasphemy in itself, and shows what the man really is in his heart.

Such was the story that the Alexandrian Jew, who knew him, told us; and as soon as these abominations became known in the Temple a riot began, and somebody cried: the adulterer must be put away. Whereupon Phinehas, seeing the large profits he had expected vanishing, turned to Jesus and said: it is thou who hast brought this disaster upon me, lying Galilean, who callest thyself the son of David, when all know ye to be the son of Joseph the Carpenter.

Son of David! Son of David! How can that be? the people began to ask each other, and in the midst of their questioning a great hilarity broke over them. In great wrath Jesus overturned Phinehas' table, and Phinehas would have overthrown Jesus had not Peter, who had armed himself with a sword, raised it. The people became like mad: tables were broken for staves, some rushed away to escape with a whole skin, and the frightened cattle dashed among them, a black bull goring many. And in all the mob Jesus was the fiercest fighter, lashing the people in the face with the thongs of the whip he had taken from a herdsman, and felling others with the handle. The cages of the doves were broken, the birds took flight, and the priests, at their wits' end, called for the guards to come down from the porticoes, and it was not till much blood had been spilt that order was restored. Joseph asked how Phinehas came out of all this trouble, and heard that he had escaped without injury. Merely losing a few shekels, not more, though he deserved to lose his life, for he placed his money above the Temple, not caring whether it was polluted by the presence of an adulterer, only thinking of the great profit he could make out of the man's sins, differing in no wise in this from the priests and sacristans.

Jesus should never have gone to the Temple nor come to Jerusalem, Joseph said. But in this Nicodemus could not agree with him, for if Jesus were the Messiah his mission was nothing less than to free Jerusalem from the Roman yoke. But he should have brought a larger body of disciples with him—some thousands, instead of a few hundreds—not enough to bring about the abolition of the Temple, which, according to Nicodemus, was the Galilean's project—one more difficult to accomplish than he thinks for. The Romans support the Temple, he cried, because the Temple divides us. I say it myself, Sadducee though I am.

It was these last words that proved to Joseph that the ringlets and bracelets did not comprise the whole of this young man's soul, and he was moved forthwith to confide the story of his father's sickness to him, dwelling on all its consequences: he had not been elected an apostle, and Jesus consequently had no one by to tell him that he must not speak of the abolition of the law in Jerusalem. But if he did not come to incite the people against the Temple, for what did he come? Nicodemus asked. You've heard him preach in Galilee, tell me who he is, and in what does his teaching consist?—a direct question that prompted Joseph to relate his associations with the Essenes, Banu, John, the search for Jesus in Egypt and among the Judean hills—a long story I'm afraid it is, Joseph mentioned apologetically to Nicodemus, who begged him to omit no detail of it. Nicodemus sat with his eyes fixed on Joseph while Joseph told of the discovery of Jesus in Galilee among his father's fishermen; and as if to excuse the almost immodest interest awakened in Nicodemus, Joseph murmured that the story owed nothing to his telling of it; he was telling it as plainly as it could be told for a purpose; Nicodemus must judge it fairly. Resuming his narrative, Joseph related the day spent in the forest and Jesus' interpretation of the prophecies. Nicodemus cried: he is the stone cut by no hand out of the mountain; the idol shall fall, and the stone that felled it shall grow as big as a mountain and fill the whole earth.



CHAP. XVII.

As they sat talking the servant brought in a letter which, he said, has just arrived from Galilee. The messenger rode the whole journey in two days, Sir, and you'll have to do the same, Sir, and to start at once if you would see your father alive. If I would see my father alive! if I would see my father alive! Joseph repeated, and, seizing Nicodemus by the hand, he bade him farewell.

Let an escort be called together at once, he cried, and an hour later he was on the back of a speedy dromedary riding through the night, his mind whirling with questions which he did not put to the messenger, knowing he could not answer any of them. And they rode on through that night and next day, stopping but once to rest themselves and their animals—six hours' rest was all he allowed himself or them. Six hours' rest for them, for him not an hour, so full was his mind with questions. He rode on, drinking a little, but eating nothing, thinking how his father's life might be saved, of that and nothing else. Were they feeding him with milk every ten minutes?—he could not trust nurses, nobody but himself. Were they shouting in his ear, keeping him awake, as it were, stimulating his consciousness at wane?

Once, and only once, while attending on his father did Joseph remember that if his father died he would be free to follow Jesus: a shameful thought that he shook out of his mind quickly, praying the while upon his knees by the bedside that he might not desire his father's death. As the thought did not come again, he assumed that his prayer was granted, and when he returned to Jerusalem a month later (the new year springing up all about him), immersed in a sort of sad happiness, thanking God, who had restored his father to health (Joseph had left Dan looking as if he would live to a hundred), a strange new thought came into his mind and took possession of it: the promise given his father only bound him during his father's lifetime; at his father's death he would be free to follow Jesus; but the dead hold us more tightly than the living, and he feared that his life would be always in his father's keeping.

He was about his father's business in the counting-house; his father seemed to direct every transaction, and, ashamed of his weakness, he refrained from giving an order till he heard, or thought he heard, his father's voice speaking through him, and when he returned to his dwelling-house, over against the desert, it often seemed to him that if he were to raise his eyes from the ashes in which some olive roots were burning he would see his father, and as plain as if he were before his eyes in the flesh. But my father isn't dead, so what is the meaning of this dreaming? he cried one evening; and, starting out of his chair, he stood listening to the gusts whirling through the hills with so melancholy a sound that Joseph could not dismiss the thought that the moment was fateful. His father was dying ... something was befalling, or it might be that Jesus was at the door asking for him. The door opened, and he uttered a cry: what is it? Nicodemus, the servant answered, has come to see you, Sir. And he waited for his order to bid the visitor to enter or depart.

His master seemed unable to give either order, and stood at gaze till the servant reminded him that Nicodemus was waiting in the hall; and then, as if yielding to superior force, Joseph answered he was willing to receive the visitor, regretting his decision almost at once, while the servant descended the stairs, and vehemently on seeing Nicodemus, who entered, the lamplight falling upon him, more brilliantly apparelled than Joseph had ever seen him. A crimson mantle hung from his shoulders and a white hand issuing from a purfled sleeve grasped a lance; weapons, jewelled and engraved, appeared among the folds of his raiment, and he strode about the room in silence, as if he thought it necessary to give Joseph a few moments in which to consider his war gear (intended as an elaborate piece of symbolism). In response to the riddle presented, Joseph began to wonder if Nicodemus regarded himself rather as a riddle than as a reality—a riddle that might be propounded again and again, or if he could not do else than devise gaud and trappings to conceal his inner emptiness, a dust-heap of which he himself was grown weary. A great deal of dust-heap there certainly is, Joseph said to himself as his eyes followed the strange figure prowling along and across the room, breaking occasionally into speech. But he could not help thinking that beneath the dust-heap there was something of worth, for when Nicodemus spoke, he spoke well, and to speak well means to think well, and to think well, Joseph was prone to conclude, means to act well, if not always, at least sometimes. But could an apt phrase condone the accoutrements? He had added a helmet to the rest of his war gear, and the glint of the lamplight on the brass provoked Joseph to beg of him to unarm and relate his story, that burdens you more than your armour, he said. At these words Nicodemus was raised from the buffoon to a man of sense and shrewdness. I have come here, he said, to speak to you about Jesus. But the story is a somewhat perilous one, and as it rains no longer I will walk with you along the hillside and tell it to you.

He raised his hand to Joseph, forbidding him to speak, and it was not till they reached a lonely track that Nicodemus stopped suddenly: his death had been resolved upon, he said, and the two men stood for a moment looking into each other's eyes without speaking. It was Nicodemus who fell to walking again and the relation of circumstances. He had come straight from the Sanhedrin, where he defended Jesus against his enemies and accusers at some personal risk, as he was quickly brought to see by Raguel's retort: and art thou too a Galilean? And walking with his eyes on the ground, as if communing with himself, Nicodemus related that there was now but one opinion in the Sanhedrin: Jesus and Judaism were incompatible; one or the other must go. Better that one man should perish than that a nation should be destroyed, he said, are the words one hears. Stopping again, he said, looking Joseph in the face: it is believed that sufficient warrant for his death has been gotten, for he said not many days ago he could destroy the Temple and build it again in three days, which can be interpreted as speech against the law. Joseph asked that a meaning should be put on the words, and Nicodemus answered that Jesus spoke figuratively. To his mind the Temple stood for no more than observances from which all spiritual significance had faded long ago, and Jesus meant that he could and would replace dead formulae by a religion of heart: the true religion which has no need of priests or sacrifices. We must persuade him to leave Jerusalem and return to Galilee, Joseph cried, his voice trembling. By no means, by no means, Nicodemus exclaimed, raising his voice and stamping his lance. He has been called to the work and must drive the plough to the headland, though death be waiting him there. But he can be saved, I think, Nicodemus continued, his voice assuming a thoughtful tone, for though he has spoken against the law the Jews may not put him to death: his death can be obtained only by application to Pilate. Will Pilate grant it to please the Jews? Joseph asked. The Romans are averse, Nicodemus answered, from religious executions and will not comprehend the putting to death of a man for saying he can destroy the Temple and build it again in three days.

Nicodemus became prolix and tedious, repeating again and again that it was the second part of the sentence that would save Jesus, for it was obvious that though a man might destroy the Temple in three days (a great fire would achieve the destruction in a few hours), he could not build it again in three days. This second part of the sentence proved beyond doubt that Jesus was speaking figuratively, and the Romans would refuse to put a man to death because he was a poet and spoke in symbols and allegories. The Romans were hard, but they were just; and he spoke on Roman justice till they came round the hills shouldering over against Bethany, and found themselves in the midst of a small group of men taking shelter from the wind behind a large rock. Why, Master, it is you. And Joseph recognised Peter's voice, and afterwards the voices of James and John, who were with him, called to Matthew and Aristion, who were at some little distance, sitting under another rock, and the five apostles crowded round Joseph, bidding him welcome, Peter, James and John demonstratively, and Aristion and Matthew, who knew Joseph but little, giving him a more timid but hardly less friendly welcome. We did not know why you had left us, they said. But it is pleasant to find you in Jerusalem, for we are lonely here, Matthew said, and the Hierosolymites mock at us for not speaking as they do. But you are with us here, young Master, as you were in Galilee? John asked. We knew not why you left us. But we did, John, Peter interposed, we knew well that Jesus said to him, when he returned from his father's sick-bed, that those who would follow him must leave father and mother, brother and sister, wives and children to live and die by themselves, which is as we have done. Yes, Sir, Peter continued, freeing himself from John and turning to Joseph, we've left this world behind us, or if not this world itself, the things of this world: our boats and nets, our wives and our children. All that Jesus calls our ghostly life we have thrown into the lake. My wife and children and mother-in-law are all there, and John and James have left their mother, Salome. But, said James, the neighbours will not be lacking to give her a bite if she wants something when she is hungry. She'll be getting men to fish for her, for we've left her our boats and nets. They've done this, Peter chimed in, and my wife and children will have to be fishing for themselves; but we hope they'll manage to get somehow a bite and a sup of something till the Kingdom comes, which we hope will not be delayed much longer, for we like not Jerusalem, and being mocked at in the Temple. But say ye, Master, that we've done wrong in leaving our wives and children to fish for themselves? It seemed hard at first, and you were weak, Master, and stayed with your father; but after all he has money and could pay for attendance, whereas our wives and little ones have none; ourselves will be in straits to get our living if the Kingdom be delayed in its coming, for what good are fishermen except along the sea coast or where there is a lake or a river, and here there isn't enough water for a minnow to swim in. Our wives and our children are better off than we are, for they'll be getting someone to fish for them, and will stand at the doors at Capernaum waiting for the boats to return, praying that the nets weren't let down in vain; but we aren't as sure of the Kingdom as we were of a great take of fishes in Galilee when the wind was favourable to fishing. Not that we'd have you think our faith be failing us; we be as firm as ever we were, as John and James will be telling you. And Peter, interrupting them again, reminded Joseph that if they lacked faith the promised Kingdom would not come.

It was Jesus' faith that upheld us, John said, pushing Peter aside, and the promises he made us that we might hear the trumpets of the cherubims and seraphims announcing the Kingdom at any moment of the day or night. And making himself the spokesman of the five, John told Joseph and Nicodemus that Jesus now looked upon the arrival of the Kingdom as a very secondary matter, and his own death as one of much greater import. He says that he'll have to give his blood to the earth and his flesh to the birds of the air else none will believe his teaching. He says that God demands a victim; and looks upon him as the victim; but if that be so, the world will get his teaching and we shall get nothing, for we know his teaching of old.

As Peter has told you, James interrupted, there be no water here, not a spring nor a rivulet, nothing in which a fish could live; we're fishermen stranded in a desert without boats or nets, which would be of no use to us, nor am I gainsaying it; but if he gives himself as a victim how shall we get back to Galilee? He now talks not of these matters to us, but of his Father only, and of doing his Father's will. He seems to have forgotten us, and everything else but his Father and his Father's will, and we cannot make him understand when we try that we shall want money, that money will be wanting to get us back to Galilee, nor does he hear us when we say: our nets and our boats may have passed into other hands. We know not what is come over him; he's a changed man; a lamb as long as you're agreeing with him, but at a word of contradiction he's all claws and teeth.

The walk is a long one, Matthew interjected, and the taxes will be collected by the time we get back if the Kingdom don't come, and sore of foot I'll be sitting in a desolate house without wife or children or fire in the hearth. But we have faith, they all cried out together, and having followed Jesus so far we'll follow him to the end. But we are glad, Sirs, James said, that you've come, for you'll see Jesus and tell him that we would like to have a word from him as to when we may expect the Kingdom; and a word, too, as to what it will be like; whether there'll be rivers and lakes well stocked with fish in it, and whether our chairs shall be set; Peter on the Master's right hand to be sure, we are all agreed as to that. But you remember, Master, our mother, Salome, how she took Jesus aside and said that myself and John were to be on his left with Andrew one below us? Peter began to raise his voice, and, straightening his shoulders, he declared that his brother Andrew must sit on Jesus' left. You remember, Master? I remember, Joseph interrupted, that the Master answered you all saying that every chair had been made and caned and cushioned before the world was. You can't have forgotten, Peter, this saying: that every one would find a chair according to his measure? Yes, Master, he did say something like that. I'm far from saying we'd all sit equally easy in the same chairs, and if the chairs were before the world was, all I can say is that there seems to have been a lack of foresight, for how could God himself know what our backsides would be like years upon years before they came into being.

About that we will speak later; but now point out the house of Simon the Leper to us where Jesus lodges, Joseph asked. You see yon house, James replied, and they went forward together, meeting on the way thither several apostles and many disciples; and these accompanied Joseph and Nicodemus to the door, telling them the while that Jesus had driven them out of the house. It is a main struggle that is going by in him, Philip said, and so we left him, being afraid of his looks. Isn't that so, Bartholomew? And they all acquiesced, and Bartholomew nodded, saying: yes, we were afraid of his looks. It was then that Simon the Leper opened the door, and Joseph, remembering his promise to his father, laid his hand on Nicodemus' shoulder: I may not enter, he said. I have come thus far but may not go into the house; but do you go in and tell him, Nicodemus, that in spirit I am with him.

On these words Nicodemus passed into the house, leaving Joseph in the centre of a small crowd of apostles, disciples and sympathisers in several degrees, all eager to talk to him and to hear him say that they had but to follow Jesus to Jerusalem and the Scribes and Pharisees would give way before them at once. You that are of the Sanhedrin should know if we are strong enough to cast them out of the Temple. But, my good men, I know nothing of your plot to clear the Temple of its thieves, Joseph answered, and there'll always be thieves in this world, wherever you go. But the Day of Judgment is approaching. When may we expect his second coming? somebody shouted from out of a group of men standing a little way back from the others, and the cry was taken up. He is coming with his Father in a chariot, one said. With our Father, somebody interrupted, and an eddying current of theology spread through the crowd. I've come from Galilee, from my father's sick-bed, and know nothing of your numbers and have not seen him these many months, Joseph said. He is the true Messiah, and we believe in him, was an unexpected utterance; but Joseph was not given time to ponder on it, for a woman, thrusting her way up to him, cried out in his face: he can destroy the Temple and build it again in three days. And when Joseph asked her who had said that, she told him that Jesus had said it. He turned to Peter, John and James to ask them the meaning of these words. What did Jesus mean when he said he could destroy the Temple and build it again in three days? He means, said half-a-dozen voices, that the priests and the Scribes are to be cast out, and a new Temple set up, for the pure worship of the true God, who desires not the fat of rams. Joseph understood that the rams destined for sacrifice were to be given to the poor.

If you don't mind, will you be telling us why you refuse to go up with Nicodemus to ask Jesus to delay no longer, but to lead us into Jerusalem? he was asked, and perforce had to answer that Nicodemus wished to talk privily to Jesus, at which they pressed round him, and from every side the question was put to him: is he going to lead us into Jerusalem? And then Joseph began to understand that these people would find themselves on the morrow, or perhaps the next day, fighting with the Roman legions, and, knowing how the fight would end, he answered them that the Romans would be on the side of the priests and Scribes. Whereupon they tore their garments and cast dust on their heads, and in his attempt to pacify them he asked if it would not be better for Jesus to go up to Galilee and wait till the priests were less prepared to resist him. No, no, to Jerusalem, to Jerusalem, they cried on every side, and voices were again raised, and the Galileans admitted that they had come down from Galilee for this revolution, and had been insulted in the Temple by the Scribes, and laughed at, and called "foolish Galileans"; but they would show the Scribes what the Galileans could do. Was it true that Jesus was the Messiah promised to the Jewish people by the prophet Daniel?—and while Joseph was seeking an answer to this question a woman cried: you're not worthy of a Messiah, for do you not know that he is the one promised to us in Holy Writ? And do not his miracles prove that he is the Messiah we have been waiting for? None but the true Messiah could have rid my son of the demon that infested him for two years; and with these words gaining the attention of the crowd she related how the ghost of a man long dead had come into her boy when he was but fourteen, bringing him to the verge of death in two years—a pale, exhausted creature, having no will of his own nor strength for anything. But how, asked Joseph, do you know that the demon was the ghost of a man that had lived long ago? Because in life he had dearly loved his wife, but had found her to be unfaithful to him and had died of grief twenty years ago, and was captured then by the beauty of my boy; and his grief entered into the boy and abode in him, and would have destroyed him utterly if Jesus had not imposed his hands upon him and put the vampire to flight. Whither I know not, but my boy is free. It is as the woman says, a man cried out, for I've seen the boy, and he is free now of the demon. My limb, too, is proof that Jesus is a prophet. And the lion-hunter told how in a fight with a great beast his thigh had been dislocated; and for seven years he had walked with a crutch, but the moment Jesus imposed his hands upon him the use of his limb was given back to him.

Another came forward and showed his arm, which for many a year had hung lifeless, but as soon as Jesus took it in his hand the sinews reknit themselves, and now it was stronger than the other. And then a woman pressed through the crowd, and she wished everybody to know that a flux of blood that had troubled her for seven years had been healed. But the people were bored with accounts of miracles and were now anxious to hear from Joseph if Jesus was going up to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Passover. But, my friends, I have but just returned from Galilee, and have come from there to learn these things. He is watching for a sign from his Father in heaven, a woman cried, shaking her head. A man tried to get some words privily with Joseph: will he speak against the taxes? he asked, but before he could get any further Nicodemus appeared in the doorway, and the people pressed round him, asking what Jesus had said to him, and if he were coming down to speak to them. But before Nicodemus could answer any of them the lion-hunter cried out that a priest was not so terrible a beast as a lion, and while he was with them Jesus had nothing to fear. At which his enemy in the crowd began to jeer, saying: Asiel wears the lion's skin, we all know, but he has never told anybody who killed the lion for him. And the men might have hit each other if the woman who suffered for seven years had not cried out: now, what are you fighting for? know ye not that Jesus cannot come down to us, for he is waiting for a sign from his Father? From our Father, John thundered out. Nicodemus said he had spoken truly, and the crowd followed Nicodemus and Joseph a little way. Do not return to the house of Simon the Leper. Leave Jesus in peace to-night to pray, meditate, and rest, for he needs rest. He'll lead you to Jerusalem as soon as he gets a sign from our Father which is in heaven, Nicodemus said.

At these words the people dispersed in great joy, and Joseph and Nicodemus walked on together in silence, till Joseph, feeling that they were safely out of hearing, asked if Jesus spoke of his intention to take Jerusalem by assault. Nicodemus seemed to examine his memory for a moment, and then, as if forgetting Joseph's question, he began to tell that Jesus was standing in the middle of the room when he entered, seemingly unaware that his disciples were assembled about the house. His eyes fixed, as it were, on his thoughts or ideas, he did not hear the door open, and to get his attention Nicodemus had to lay his hand upon his arm. At his touch Jesus awoke from his dream, but it seemed quite a little while before he could shake himself free from his dream, and was again of this world. Joseph asked Nicodemus to repeat his first words. Was he violent or affectionate? Affectionate, gentle, and winning, Nicodemus answered. A few moments of sweetness, and then he seemed suddenly to become old and wild and savage.

The two men stopped on the road, and Nicodemus looking into Joseph's eyes, said: I asked him if he were going up to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Passover, and after speaking a few words on the subject he broke out, coiling himself like a diseased panther meditating on its spring, and as if uncertain if he could accomplish it, he fell back into a chair and into his dream, out of which he spoke a few words clear and reasonable; and then with a concentrated hate he spoke of the Temple as a resort of thieves and of the priests as the despoilers of widows and orphans, saying that the law must be abrogated and the Temple destroyed. Until then there would be no true religion in Judea. It is like that he speaks now; the one-time reformer sees clearly that the Temple must go. And would he, Joseph asked, build another in its place? I'm not sure that he would. I put the question to him and he was uncertain if the old foundations could be used. The old spirits of lust, and blood, and money would haunt the walls, and as fast as we raised up a new Temple the spirits would pull it down and rebuild it as it was before. We are forbidden by the law of Moses to create any graven image of man, of bird or beast. Would that Moses had added: build no walls, for as soon as there are walls priests will enter in and set themselves upon thrones. The priests have taken the place of God, and I have come, he said, to cast them out of their thrones, and to cut the knot of the bondage of the people of Israel. I come, he said, with a sword to cut that knot, which hands have failed to loosen, and in my other hand there is a torch, and with it I shall set fire to the thrones. All the world as ye know it must be burnt up like stubble, for a new world to rise up in its place. In the beginning I spoke sweet words of peace, and they were of no avail to stay the sins that were committed in every house; so now I speak no more sweet words to anybody, but words that shall divide father from son, and mother from daughter, and wife from husband. There is no other way to cure the evil. What say I, he cried, cure! There is none. The evil must be cut down and thrown upon the fire, and whosoever would be saved from the fire must follow me. The priests hate me and call me arrogant, but if I seem arrogant to them it is because I speak the word of God.

And then, seizing me by the shoulder, he said: look into my eyes and see. They shall tell thee that those who would be saved from the fire must follow me. I am the word, the truth, and the life. Follow me, follow me, or else be for ever accursed and destroyed and burnt up like weeds that the gardener throws into heaps and fires on an autumn evening. Yes, he cried, we are nearing the springtime when life shall begin again in the world. But I say to thee that this springtime shall never come to pass. Never again shall the fig ripen on the wall and the wheat be cut down in the fields. Before these things come to pass in their natural course the Son of Man shall return in a chariot of fire to make an end of things; or if thou wilt thou can say that he'll come not to make an end but a new beginning, a world in which justice and peace shall reign. And it is for this end I offer myself, a victim to appease our Father in heaven. I'm the sacrifice and the communion, for it is no longer the fat of rams that my Father desires, but my blood, only that; only my blood will appease his wrath. As I have said, I am the communion, and thou shalt eat my flesh and drink my blood, else perish utterly, and go into eternal damnation. But I love thee and—— And after a pause he said: those that love God are loved by me, and willingly and gladly will I yield myself up as the last sacrifice.

Nicodemus stopped, for his memory died suddenly, and, unable to discover anything in the blank, he turned to Joseph and said: he speaks with a strange, bitter energy, like one that has lost control of his words; he is hardly aware of them, nor does he retain any memory of them. They are as the wind, rising we know not why, and going its way unbidden. I have seen him like that in Galilee, Joseph answered. Ah! Nicodemus answered suddenly, I remember, but cannot put words upon it. He said that before the world was, he and his Father were one, and that his great love of man induced him to separate himself——

At that moment a man came out from the shadow of a rock and approached the wayfarers, who drew back quickly, thinking they were about to be attacked. It is Judas, Joseph whispered, one of the apostles. You have seen Jesus? Judas asked breathlessly, and when Nicodemus told how Jesus had said he would go up to Jerusalem for the Passover he cried out: to lead us against the Temple? He must be saved. From what? Nicodemus asked: from his mission? He must go on to the end with the work he has been called out of heaven to accomplish. I can see that you have been speaking with him. Called out of heaven to accomplish! And then, clasping his hands, Judas looked with imploring eyes upon them: save him, he cried, save him, for if not, I must myself, for every day his pride redoubles and now he believes himself to be the Messiah, the Messiah as sent by God, Judas cried. By whom else could he be sent? Joseph replied. If he be not taken by the priests and put to death he will be driven by the demon into the last blasphemy; one which no Jew has yet committed even in his heart, and if that word be spoken all will be accomplished, and the Lord will choose another nation from among the Gentiles. He will declare himself God, Judas continued. Nicodemus and Joseph raised their hands. He speaks already of the time before the world was, when he and his Father were one; and setting aside the Scriptures in his madness he has begun to imagine that the angels that revolted against God were changed into men, and given the world for abode till their sins so angered the Father (remark you, of whom Jesus was then a part) that he determined to destroy the world; at which Jesus in his great love of men (or of fallen angels, for betimes he doesn't know what he is saying) said he would put Godhead off and become man, and give his life as atonement for the sins of men. Sirs, I'll ask you how God or man may by his death make atonement for the sins that men have committed? Hear me to the end, for as many minutes as you have listened, I have listened hours. By this sacrifice of his life his teaching will become known to men and he will reign the one and only king till the world itself crumbles and perishes. Then he will become one with his Father, and from that moment there will be but one God. These are the thoughts, noble Sirs, on which he is brooding, and if he go up to yon town it will be to—— Judas could not bring himself to pronounce the words "declare himself God," so blasphemous did they seem to him. And before the wayfarers could ask him, as they were minded to, if he were sure that he had rightly understood Jesus, the apostle had bidden them farewell, and, running up a by-track, disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind him a memory of a large bony nose hanging over a thin black moustache that barely covered his lips.

As they walked towards the city, over which the moon was hanging, filling the valleys and hills with strange, fantastical shadows, they remembered the black, shaggy eyebrows, the luminous eyes, and the bitter, penetrating voice, and they remembered the gait, the long striding legs as they hastened up the steep path; even the pinched back often started up in their memory. And the next three or four days they sought him in the crowds that assembled to make the triumphal entry with Jesus into Jerusalem, but he was not to be seen; and if he had been among the people they could not fail to have discovered him. He is not here to welcome Jesus, Joseph muttered under his breath, and added: can it be that he has deserted to the other side?

He is a sort of other Jesus, Nicodemus said. But yonder Jesus comes riding on an ass, on which a crimson cloak has been laid. As Jesus passed Nicodemus and Joseph he waved his hand, and there was a smile on his lips and a light in his eye. He seems to have become suddenly young again, Joseph said. He is exalted, Nicodemus added sadly, by his following. And they counted about fifty men and women. Does he think that with these he will drive the Pharisees and Sadducees out of the Temple? he added. He is happy again, Joseph answered. See how he lifts up the fringe of the mantle they have laid upon the ass, and admires it. His face is happier than we have seen it for many a day. He likes the people to salute him as the Son of David. Yet he knows, Nicodemus said, that he is the son of Joseph the Carpenter. Ask him to beg the people not to call him the Son of David, Joseph pleaded. And, running after the ass, Nicodemus dared to say: ask the people not to call thee the Son of David, for it will go against thee in the end. But Jesus' heart at that moment was swollen with pride, and he answered Nicodemus: what thou hearest to-day on earth was spoken in heaven before our Father bade the stars give light. Be not afraid for my sake. Remember that whomsoever my Father sends on earth to do his business, him will he watch over. He has no eyes for me, Joseph said sadly, for I left him to attend my father in sickness. And, taking Nicodemus' arm, he drew him close, that he might more safely whisper that two men seemed to be searching in their garments as if for daggers. Nicodemus knew them to be hirelings in the pay of the priests. Look, he said, how their hands fidget for their daggers; the opportunity seems favourable now to stab him; but no, the crowd closes round his ass again, and the Zealots draw back. God saved Daniel from the flames and the lions, Joseph answered. But will he, Nicodemus returned, be able to save him from the priests?



CHAP. XVIII.

Nicodemus invited Joseph to follow Jesus, saying that at a safe distance he would like to see him ride through the gates into the city; but Joseph, sorely troubled in his mind, could not answer him, and an hour later was hastening along the Jericho road, praying all the while that he might be given strength to keep the promise he had given to his father. But no sooner was he in Jericho than he began to feel ashamed of himself, and after resisting the impulse to return to Jesus for two days he yielded to it, and returned obediently the way he had come, uncertain whether shame of his cowardice or love was bringing him back. One or the other it must be, he said, as he came round the bend in the road into Bethany; and it was soon after passing through that village, somewhere about three o'clock, that he met his masons coming from Mount Scropas. Coming from my tomb, he said to himself, and, reining up his horse and speaking to them, he heard that his tomb was finished. We've chiselled a great stone to be rolled into the doorway, he heard one of the masons say; another uttered vauntingly that the stone closed the tomb perfectly, and Joseph was about to press his horse forward when the men called after him, and, gathering about his stirrup, they related that Jesus of Nazareth had been tried and condemned by Pilate that morning, and was now hanging on a cross, a-top of Golgotha, one of the masons said: you can see him yourself, Master, if you be going that way, and between two thieves. One of them was to have been Jesus Bar-Abba, but the people cried out that he was to be released instead of Jesus. As Joseph repeated the words, Bar-Abba instead of Jesus, as if he only half understood them, the masons reminded him that it was the custom to deliver up a prisoner to the people at the time of the Passover. At the time of the Passover, he repeated.... At last, realising what had happened, his face became overwrought; his eyes and mouth testified to the grief he was suffering; and he pressed his spurs to his horse's side, and would have been away beyond call if two of his workmen had not seized the bridle and almost forced the horse on his haunches. Loose my bridle, Joseph cried, astonished and beside himself. A moment with you, Master. Be careful to speak no word in his favour, and make no show of sympathy, else a Zealot's knife will be in your back before evening, for they be seeking the Galileans everywhere, at the priests' bidding. Before Joseph could break away he heard that the priests stirred up the people against Jesus, giving it forth against him that he had come to Jerusalem to burn down the Temple, and would set up another—built without the help of hands, of what materials he did not know, but not of stones nor wood, yet a Temple that will last for ever, the mason shouted after Joseph, who had stuck his spurs again into his horse and was riding full tilt towards a hill about half-a-mile from the city walls. On his way thither he met some of the populace—the remnant returning from the crucifixion—and he rode up the ascent at a gallop in the hope that he might be in time to save Jesus' life.

He knew Pilate would grant him almost any favour he might ask; but within fifty yards of the crosses his heart began to fail him, for, whereas the thieves were straining their heads high in the air above the crossbar, Jesus' head was sunk on to his chest. He died a while ago, the centurion said, and as soon as he was dead the multitude began to disperse, the Sabbath being at hand; and guessing Joseph to be a man of importance, he added: if you like I'll make certain that he is dead, and, taking his spear from one of the soldiers, he would have plunged it into Jesus' side, but Joseph, forgetful of the warning he had received, on no account to show sympathy with Jesus, laid his hand on the spear-head, saying: respect the dead. As you will, the centurion replied, and gave the spear back to the soldier, who returned to his comrades, it being his turn to cast the dice. They have cast dice, the centurion continued, and will divide the clothes of these men amongst them; and, hearing the words, one of the soldiers held up the rags that had come to him, while another spread upon the ground Jesus' fine cloak, the one that Peter had bought for Jesus with money that Joseph gave to him. That he should see the cloak again, and on such an occasion, touched his heart. It was a humble incident in a cruel murder committed by a priest; and the thought crossed Joseph's mind that he might purchase the cloak from the soldier, but, remembering the warning he had received, he did not ask for the cloak, nor did he once lift his eyes to Jesus' face, lest the sight of it should wring his heart, and being overcome and helpless with grief, the priests and their hirelings might begin to suspect him.

He strove instead to call reason to his aid: Jesus' life being spent, his duty was to obtain the body and bury it: far worse than the death he endured would be for his sacred body to be thrown into the common ditch with these malefactors. I know not how you can abide here, he said to the centurion; their groans make the heart faint. We shall break their bones presently; the Jews asked us to do this, for at six o'clock their Sabbath begins. And in this the thieves are lucky, for were it not for their Sabbath they would last on for three or four days: the first day is the worst day; afterwards the crucified sinks into unconsciousness, and I doubt if he suffers at all on the third day, and on the fourth day he dies. But, Sir, what may I do for you? I've come for the body of this man, Joseph answered; for, however erring, he was not a thief, and deserves decent burial. You can come with me to testify that I've buried it in a rock sepulchre, the stone of which yourself shall roll into the door. To which the centurion answered that he did not dare to deliver up the body of Jesus without an order from Pilate, though he was dead. Dead an hour or more, truly dead, he added. Pilate will not refuse his body to me, Joseph replied. Pilate and I are well acquainted; we are as friends are; you must have seen me at the Praetorium before now, coming to talk with the procurator about the transport of wheat from Moab, and other things.

These words filled the centurion with admiration, and, afraid to seem ignorant, he said he remembered having seen Joseph and knew him to be a friend of Pilate. Well then, come with me at once to Jerusalem, Joseph said coaxingly, and you'll see that Pilate will order thee to deliver the dead unto me. But the centurion demurred, saying that his orders were not to leave the gibbets. Upon my own word, Pilate will not deliver up the body unless I bring you with me; I shall require you to testify of the death. So come with me. The unwillingness of the centurion was reduced to naught at the mention of a sum of money, and, giving orders to his soldiers that nothing was to be done during his absence, he walked beside Joseph's horse into Jerusalem, telling to Joseph as they went the story of the arrest in the garden, the haling of Jesus before the High Priest, and the sending of him on to Pilate, who, though unwilling to confirm the sentence of death, was afraid of a riot, and had yielded to the people's wish. The account of the scourging of Jesus in the hall of the palace, and the bribing of the soldiers by the Jews to make a mocking-stock of Jesus, was not finished when Joseph, who had been listening without hearing, said: here is the door.

And while they waited for the door to be opened, and after the doorkeeper had opened it, the centurion continued to tell his tale: how a purple cloak was thrown upon the shoulders of Jesus, a reed put into his hand, and a crown of thorns pressed upon his forehead. We wondered how it was that he said nothing. We have come to see his worship, Joseph interrupted; and the doorkeeper, who knew Joseph to be a friend of Pilate, was embarrassed, for Pilate had sent down an order that he would see no one again that day; but, like the centurion, he was amenable to money, and consented to take in Joseph's name. There was no need to give him money, he would not have dared to refuse Pilate's friend, the centurion said as they waited.

Word came back quickly that Joseph was to be admitted, and after begging Pilate to forgive him for intruding upon his privacy so late in the day, he put his request into words, saying straight away: I have come to ask for the body of Jesus, who was condemned to the cross at noon. At these words Pilate's face became overcast, and he said that he regretted that Joseph had come to ask him for something he could not grant. It would have been pleasant to leave Jerusalem knowing that I never refused you anything, Joseph, for you are the one Jew for whom I have any respect, and, I may add, some affection. But why, Pilate, cannot you give me Jesus' body? His body, is that what you ask for, Joseph? It seemed to me that you had come to ask me to undo the sentence that I pronounced to-day at noon. The body! Is Jesus dead then? The centurion answered for Joseph: yes, sir; he died to-day at the ninth hour. I put a lance into him to make sure, and blood and water came from his side. At which statement Joseph trembled, for he was acquiescing in a lie; but he did not dare to contradict the centurion, who was speaking in his favour for the sake of the money he had received, and in the hope of receiving more for the lie that he told. On the cross at noon and dead before the ninth hour! Pilate muttered: he could but bear the cross for three hours! After the scourging we gave him, Sir, the centurion answered, he was so weak and feeble that we had to pass on his cross to the shoulders of a Jew named Simon of Cyrene, who carried it to the top of the mount for him. If he be dead there is no reason for my not giving up the body, Pilate answered. Which I shall bury, Joseph replied, in my own sepulchre. What, Joseph, have you already ordered your sepulchre? To my eyes you do not look more than five or six and twenty years, and to my eyes you look as if you would live for sixty more years at least; but you Jews never lose sight of death, as if it were the only good. We Romans think so too sometimes, but not so frequently as you.

And then this tall, grave, handsome man, whose face reflected a friendly but somewhat formal soul, took Joseph by the arm and walked with him up and down the tessellated pavement, talking in his ear, showing himself so well disposed towards him that the centurion congratulated himself that he had accepted Joseph's bribe. If I had only known that you were a close friend, Pilate said to Joseph—but if I had known as much it would only have made things more difficult for me. A remarkable man. And now, on thinking it over, it must have been that I was well disposed to him for that reason, for there could have been no other; for what concern of mine is it that you Jews quarrel and would tear each other to pieces for your various beliefs in God and his angels? So Jesus was your friend? Tell me about him; I would know more about him than I could learn from a brief interview with him in the Praetorium, where I took him and talked to him alone. A brief account I pray you give me. And Joseph, who was thinking all the while that the Sabbath was approaching, gave to Pilate some brief account of Jesus in Galilee.

So you too, Joseph, are susceptible to this belief that the bodies of men are raised out of the earth into heaven? I would ask you if the body is ridded of its worms before it is carried away by angels. But I see that you are pressed for time; the Sabbath approaches; I must not detain you, and yet I would not let you go without telling you that it pleases me to give his body for burial. A body deserves burial that has been possessed by a lofty soul, for how many years, thirty? I would have saved him if it had been possible to do so; but he gave me no chance; his answers were brief and evasive; and he seemed to desire death; seemingly he looked upon his death as necessary for the accomplishment of his mission. Have I divined him right? Joseph answered that Pilate read Jesus' soul truly, which flattered Pilate and persuaded him into further complaint that if he had not saved Jesus it was because Jesus would not answer him. He seemed to me like a man only conscious of his own thoughts, Pilate said; even while speaking he seemed to rouse hardly at all out of his dream, a delirious dream, if I may so speak, of the world redeemed from the powers of evil and given over to the love of God. This, however, he did say: that any power which I might have over him came to me from above, from his Father which is in heaven, else I could do nothing; and there was bitterness in his voice as he spoke these words, which seemed to suggest that he was of opinion that his Father had gone a little too far in allowing the Jews to send him to me to condemn to death.

His Father in heaven and himself are one, and yet they differ in this. So he was your friend, Joseph? If I had known it there would have been an additional reason for my trying to save him from the hatred of the Jews; for I hate the Jews, and would willingly leave them to-morrow. But they cried out: you are not Caesar's friend; this man would set up a new kingdom and overthrow the Romans; and, as I have already told you, Joseph, I asked Jesus if he claimed to be King of the Jews, but he answered me: you have said it, adding, however, that his kingdom was not of this world. Evasive answers of that kind are worthless when a mob is surging round the Praetorium. A hateful crowd they looked to me; a cruel, rapacious, vindictive crowd, with nothing in their minds but hatred. I suspect they hated him for religious reasons. You Jews are—forgive me, Joseph, you are an exception among your people—a bitter, intolerant race. You would not allow me to bring the Roman eagles to Jerusalem, for you cannot look upon graven things. All the arts you have abolished, and your love of God resolves itself into hatred of men; so it seems to me. It would have pleased me very well indeed to have thwarted the Jews in their desire for this man's life, but I was threatened by a revolt, and the soldiers at my command are but auxiliaries, and not in sufficient numbers to quell a substantial riot. I will tell you more: if the legion that I was promised had arrived from Caesarea the lust of the Jews for the blood of those that disagree with them would not have been satisfied. I went so far as to send messengers to inquire for the legion. But the man is dead now, and further talking will not raise him into life again. You have come to ask me for his body, and you would bury it in your own tomb. It is like you, Joseph, to wish to honour your dead friend. Methinks you are more Roman than Jew. Say not so in the hearing of my countrymen, Joseph replied, or I may meet my death for your good opinion.

The Sabbath is now approaching, and you'll forgive me if I indulge in no further words of thanks, Pilate. I may not delay, lest the hour should come upon me after which no work can be done. Not that I hold with such strict observances. A good work done upon the Sabbath must be viewed more favourably by God than a bad work done on another day of the week. But I would not have it said that I violated the Sabbath to bury Jesus. As you will, my good Joseph, Pilate said, and stood looking after Joseph and the centurion, who, as they drew near to the gate of the city, remembered that a sheet would be wanted to wrap the body in. Joseph answered the centurion that there was no time for delay, but the centurion replied: in yon shop sheets are sold. Moreover, you will want a lantern, Sir, for the lifting of the body from the cross will take some time, and the carrying of it to the tomb will be a slow journey for you though you get help, and the day will be gone when you arrive. You had better buy a lantern, Sir. Joseph did as he was bidden, and they hurried on to Golgotha.

Nothing has been done in my absence? the centurion asked the soldiers, who answered: nothing, Sir; and none has been here but these women, whom we did not drive away, but told that you were gone with one Joseph of Arimathea to get an order from Pilate for the body. That was well, the centurion answered. And now do you loose the cords that bind the hands, and get the dead man down. Which was easy to accomplish, the feet of the crucified being no more than a few inches from the ground; and while this was being done Joseph told the centurion that the women were the sisters of Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead; a story that set the Roman soldiers laughing. Can a man be raised from the dead? they asked; and if this man could do such a thing how is it that he did not raise himself out of death into life? To which neither Joseph nor the two women made any answer, but stood, their eyes fixed on their thoughts, asking themselves how they were to carry Jesus to the sepulchre, distant about a mile and a half. And it not seeming to them that they could carry the body, the centurion offered Joseph the help of one of his soldiers, which they would have accepted, but at that moment an ox-cart was perceived hastening home in the dusk. Joseph, going after the carrier, offered him money if he would bring the body of one of the crucified to the sepulchre in Mount Scropas for him. To which the carrier consented, though he was not certain that the job might not prevent him from getting home before the Sabbath began. But he would see what could be done.

Jesus was laid on the ox-cart, and Mary, Martha and Joseph following it reached Mount Scropas, in which was the tomb, before sunset. As I told thee with half-an-hour for thee to get home before the Sabbath, Joseph said to the carrier, his eyes fixed on the descending sun. Now take this man by the feet and I'll take him by the head. But will you not light the lantern, Sir? the carrier said; for though there be light on the hillside, it will be night in the tomb, and we shall be jostling our heads against the stone and perhaps falling over the dead man.... I have steel and tinder. Wherefrom the lantern was lit and given to Martha, who lighted them into the tomb, Joseph and the carrier bearing the body, with Mary following.