On these words he went to his counting-house distracted and sad, expecting to hear from his clerk that the story of Jesus' resurrection was beginning to be forgotten in Jerusalem, but the clerk knew nothing more, and was eager to speak on another matter. Pilate had sent soldiers to prevent a multitude from assembling at the holy mountain, Gerezim, for the purpose of searching for some sacred vessels hidden there by Moses, so it was said. Many had been slain in the riot, and the Samaritans had made representations to Vitellius, artfully worded, the clerk said, and dangerous to Pilate, for Vitellius had a friend whom he would like to put in Pilate's place. Joseph sat thinking that it was not at all unlikely he was about to lose his friend and protector, and the clerk, seeing his master troubled, dropped in the words: nothing has been settled yet. Joseph gave no heed, and a few days afterwards a messenger came from the Praetorium to tell Joseph that Pilate wished to see him. We shall not meet again, Joseph, unless you come to Rome, and you must come quickly to see me there, for my health is declining. We have been friends, such friends as may rarely consist with Roman and Hebrew, he said, and the words stirred up a great grief in Joseph's heart, and when he returned that evening to his house he was overcome by the evil tidings, but he did not convey them to Esora that evening, nor the next day, nor the day afterwards, and they becoming such a great torment in his heart he did not care to go to his counting-house, but remained waiting in his own rooms, or walking in the garden, startled by every noise and by every shadow.

Day passed over day, and it was one of the providers that came to the gates that brought the news of Pilate's departure to Esora, and when she had gotten it she came to Joseph, saying: so your friend Pilate has been ordered to Rome? He has, indeed, Joseph answered, overcome by the intrigues of the Samaritans, who sought to assemble together, not so much to discover sacred vessels as to bring about a change of government. We are beset with danger, Esora, for it has come to my mind that the stories about the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth may be kindled again, and it will not be difficult to incite the priests against me; everybody is saying that I was the last man to see Jesus, and must know where his body is hidden; that is enough for the priests, and they will send up a band of Zealots to seek him in this garden. There is no place here where we can hide him from them. That is why I haven't been to my counting-house for three days, fearing to leave thee and Matred alone with him, for they would surely choose the time when I was away in Jerusalem to plunder my house. As he was saying these things Matred came into the room with some wood for the fire, but before throwing the logs on the hearth that Jesus carried up she looked at them, and it seemed to Joseph her eyes were full of suspicion, and as soon as she left the room he said: now why did she bring the logs into the room while we were talking of Jesus, and why did she mention that he carried them up this afternoon, having felled a dead tree this morning?

Esora tried to persuade him that his fears were imaginary, but she too feared that Matred might begin to suspect that Jesus was no ordinary gardener; she had said, ye speak strangely in Galilee, and to kindle the story again it would only be necessary for somebody to come up to the gates and ask her if one, Jesus, a Galilean, was known to her, one that Pilate condemned to the cross. Her answer would be: there is one here called Jesus, he is a Galilean, and may have been on the cross for aught I know. And such answer would be carried back to the priests, who would order their hirelings to make a search for Jesus, and the master and servant often sat of an evening listening to the wind in the chimney, thinking it was warning them of the raid of the Jews. If a tree fell it was an omen, and they related their dreams to each other in the alleys of the gardens, till it occurred to them that to be seen in long converse together would awaken Matred's suspicion. The shutters were put up and they sat in the dark afraid to speak lest the walls had ears.

Esora, who was the braver of the two, often said, Master, strive to quell thy fears, for the new procurator has given pause to the story of the resurrection. We have heard little of it lately, and Jesus is beginning to be forgotten. Not so, Esora, for to-day I heard—and Joseph began a long relation which ended always with the phrase: we are beset with danger. We have been saying that now for a long while, Esora answered, yet nothing has befallen us yet, and what cannot be cured must be endured. We must bear with him. If, Esora, I could bring myself to break all promises to my father and go away with him to Egypt this misery would be ended. Master, thou canst not do this thing; thou hast been thinking of it all the winter, and were it possible it would be accomplished already. If it hadn't been for that dream—and Joseph began to relate again the dream related many times before. Forget thy dream, Master, Esora said to him, for it will not help us; as I have said, what cannot be cured must be endured. We must put our trust in time, which brings many changes; and in the spring something will befall; he'll be taken from us. The spring, Esora? And in safety? Tell me, and in safety? Nay, Master, I cannot tell thee more than I have said; something will befall, but what that thing may be I cannot say. Will it be in the winter or in the spring? It will be in February or March, she said. It was, however, before then, in January (the winter being a mild one, the birds were already singing in the shaws), that a camel-driver came to the house on the hillside to tell Joseph that a camel had been stolen from them on their way from Jericho to Jerusalem during the night or in the early morning, and with many words and movements of the hands, that irritated Joseph, he sought to describe the valley where they pitched their tent. Get on with thy story, Joseph said; and the man told that they had succeeded in tracking the band, a small one, to a cave, out of which, he said, it will be easy to smoke them if Fadus, the procurator, will send soldiers at once, for they may go on to another cave, not deeming it safe to remain long in the same one. Didst beg the camel back from the robbers? Joseph asked, for he was not thinking of the robbery, but of his meeting with Fadus. No, Master, there was no use doing that. They would have taken our lives. But we followed them, spying them from behind rocks all the way, and the cave having but one entrance they can be smoked to death with a few trusses of damp straw. But care must be taken lest our camel perish with them. If we could get them to give up the camel first, I'm thinking—

It was a serious matter to hear that robbers had again established themselves in the hills; and while Joseph pondered the disagreeable tidings a vagrant breeze carried the scent of the camel-driver's sheepskin straight into Jesus' nostrils as he came up the path with a bundle of faggots on his shoulders. He stopped at first perplexed by the smell and then, recognising it, he hurried forward, till he stood before the spare frame and withered brown face of the desert wanderer.

Joseph looked on puzzled, for Jesus stood like one in ecstatic vision and began to put questions to the camel-driver regarding the quality of the sheep the shepherds led, asking if the rams speeded, if there were many barren ewes in the flock, and if there was as much scab about as formerly, questions that one shepherd might put to another, but which seemed strangely out of keeping with a gardener's interests.

The camel-driver answered Jesus' question as well as he was able, and then, guessing a former shepherd in the gardener, he asked if Jesus had ever led a flock. Joseph tried to interrupt, but the interruption came too late; Jesus blurted out that for many years he was a shepherd. And who was thy master? the camel-driver asked; Jesus answered that he was in those days an Essene living in the great settlement on the eastern bank of Jordan. Whereupon the camel-driver began to relate that Brother Amos was not doing well with the sheep and that some of the brethren were gone to the Brook Kerith and had taken possession of a cave in the rocks above it. The camel-driver was about to begin to make plain this Amos' misunderstanding of sheep, but Jesus interrupted him. Who may their president be? he asked; and with head bent, scratching his poll, the camel-driver said at last that he thought it was Hazael. Hazael! Jesus answered, and forthwith his interest in the camel-driver began to slacken. The anemone is on the hills to-day, he said, and Joseph looked at him reproachfully; his eyes seemed to say: hast forgotten so easily the danger we passed through by keeping thee here, counting it as nothing, so great was our love of thee?—and Jesus answering that look replied: but, Joseph, how often didst thou speak to me of Caesarea, Alexandria, Athens, and other cities. Esora, too, was anxious that I should leave Judea ... for my sake as well as yours. India was spoken of, but the Brook Kerith is not twenty odd miles from here and I shall be safe among the brethren. Why this silence, Joseph? and whence comes this change of mood? Jesus asked, and Joseph began to speak of the parting that awaited them. But there'll be no parting, Jesus interposed. Thou'lt ride thy ass out to meet me, and we shall learn to know each other, for thou knowest nothing of me yet, Joseph. Thou'lt bring a loaf of bread and a flagon of wine in thy wallet, and we shall share it together. I shall wait for thy coming on the hillside. Even so, Jesus, I am sad that our life here among the trees in this garden should have come to an end. We were frightened many times, but what we suffered is now forgotten. The pleasure of having thee with us alone is remembered. But it is true we have been estranged here. May we start to-night? Jesus asked, and Joseph said: if a man be minded to leave, it is better that he should leave at once.



CHAP. XXIII.

An hour later, about two hours before midnight, they were riding into the desert, lighted by a late moon and incommoded by two puppies that Jesus could not be dissuaded from bringing with him: for if Brother Amos give up his flock to me, he argued, I shall need dogs. But Brother Amos will give thee his dogs, Joseph said. A shepherd, Jesus answered, cannot work with any dogs but his own. But what has become of the dogs that were left behind? Joseph asked, and not being able to tell him, Jesus fell to wondering how it was he had forgotten his dogs. At that moment one of the puppies cried to be let down: see how well he follows, Jesus said, but hardly were the words past his lips than the puppy turned tail, and Jesus had to chase him very nearly back to Bethany before he allowed himself to be overtaken and picked up again. The way is long, Joseph cried, more than seven hours to the city of Jericho, and if these chases happen again we shall be overtaken by the daylight. One of my caravans starts from Jericho at dawn; and if we meet it I shall have my camel-drivers round me asking pertinent questions and may be compelled to return with them to Jericho. Come, Jesus, thine ass seems willing to amble down this long incline; and dropping the reins over the animal's withers, and leaning back, holding a puppy under each arm, Jesus allowed the large brown ass he was riding to trot; it was not long before he left far behind the heavy weighted white ass, which carried Joseph.

Now seeing the distance lengthening out between them Joseph was tempted to cry to Jesus to stop, but dared not, lest he might awaken robbers (their strongholds having lately been raided by soldiers), and he had in mind the fugitives that might be lurking in the hills, so instead of crying to Jesus to hold hard, he urged his ass forward. But the best speed he could make was not sufficient to overtake the nimbly trotting brown ass, and the pursuit might have been continued into Jericho if Jesus had not been suddenly behoven by the silence to stop and wait for Joseph to overtake him, which he did in about ten minutes, whispering: ride not so fast, robbers may be watching for travellers. Not at this hour, Jesus replied; and he prepared to ride on. This time one of the puppies succeeded in getting away and might have run back again to Bethany had not Joseph leapt from his ass and driven him back to Jesus with loud cries that the ravines repeated again and again. If there were robbers asleep, thy cries would awaken them. True, true, Joseph replied; I forgot; and he vowed he would not utter another word till they passed a certain part of the road, advantageous, he said, to robbers. No better spot between Jerusalem and Jericho for murder and robbery, he continued: cast thine eyes down into the ravine into which he could throw us. But if a robber should fall upon me do not stay to defend me; ride swiftly to the inn for help, and, despite the danger, Joseph rode in front of Jesus, sustained by the hope that the good fortune that attended him so far would attend him to the end. And they rode on through the grey moonlight till a wolf howled in the distance. Joseph bent over and whispered in Jesus' ear: hold thy puppies close to thy bosom, Jesus, for if one be dropped and start running back to Bethany he will be overtaken easily by that wolf and thou'lt never hear of him again. Jesus held the puppies tighter, but there was no need to do so, for they seemed to know that the howl was not of their kin. The wolf howled again, and was answered by another wolf. The twain have missed our trail, Joseph said, and had there been more we might have had to abandon our asses. If we hasten we shall reach the inn without molestation from robbers or wolves. How far are we from the inn, Jesus? About two hours, Jesus answered, and Joseph fell to gazing on the hills, trying to remember them, but unable to do so, so transformed were they in the haze of the moonlight beyond their natural seeming. They attracted him strangely, the hills, dim, shadowy, phantasmal, rising out of their loneliness towards the bright sky, a white cliff showing sometimes through the greyness; the shadow of a rock falling sometimes across a track faintly seen winding round the hills, every hill being, as it were, a stage in the ascent.

As the hills fell back behind the wayfarers the inn began to take shape in the pearl-coloured haze, and the day Joseph rested for the first time in this inn rose up in his memory with the long-forgotten wanderers whom he had succoured on the occasion: the wizened woman in her black rags and the wizened child in hers. They came up from the great desert and for the last fifteen days had only a little camel's milk, so they had said, and like rats they huddled together to eat the figs he distributed.

He had seen the inn many times since then and the thought came into his mind that he would never see it again. But men are always haunted by thoughts of an impending fate, he said to himself, which never befalls. But it has befallen mine ass to tire under my weight, he cried. He must be very tired, Jesus answered, for mine is tired, and I've not much more than half thy weight; and the puppies are tired, tired of running alongside of the asses, and tired of being carried, and ourselves are tired and thirsty; shall we knock at the door and cry to the innkeeper that he rouse out of his bed and give us milk for the puppies if he have any? I wouldn't have him know that I journeyed hither with thee, Joseph replied, for stories are soon set rolling. Esora has put a bottle of water into the wallet; the puppies will have to lap a little. We can spare them a little though we are thirstier than they. She had put bread and figs into the wallet, so they were not as badly off as they thought for; and eating and drinking and talking to the puppies and feeding them the while, the twain stood looking through the blue, limpid, Syrian night.

At the end of a long silence Jesus said: the dawn begins; look, Joseph, the stars are not shining as brightly over the Jericho hills as they were. But Joseph could not see that the stars were dimmer. Are they not with-drawing? Jesus asked, and then, forgetful of the stars, his thoughts went to the puppies: see how they crouch and tremble under the wall of the garth, he said. There must be a wolf about, he said, and after he had thrown a stone to hasten the animal's departure he began to talk to the puppies, telling them they need have no fear of wolves, for when they were full-grown and were taught by him they would not hold on but snap and snap again. That is how the Thracian dogs fight, like the wolves, he said, turning to Joseph. He is thinking, Joseph said to himself, of sheep and dogs and being a shepherd again. But of-what art thou thinking, Joseph?—of that strip of green sky which is the dawn? I can see, now, that thy shepherd eyes did not deceive thee, Joseph answered. The day begins again; and how wonderful is the return of the day, hill after hill rising out of the shadow. An old land, he said, like the end of the world. Why like the end of the world? Jesus asked. Joseph had spoken casually; he regretted the remark, and while he sought for words that would explain it away a train of camels came through the dusk rocking up the hillside, swinging long necks, one bearing on its back what looked like a gigantic bird. A strange burden, Joseph said, and what it may be I cannot say, but the camels are my camels, and thou art safe out of sight under the wall of this garth.

A moment after the word that the master had bidden a halt was passed up the line, and one of the camel-drivers said: she stopped half-an-hour ago to drop her young one, and we put him on the dam's back, and she doesn't feel his weight. We shall rest for an hour between this and Jerusalem, and when we lift him down he'll find the dug. But I've a letter for you, Master, from Gaddi, who wishes to see you. I thought to deliver it in Jerusalem. It was fortunate to meet you here. Gaddi will see you half-a-day sooner than he hoped for. I shall get to him by midday, Joseph said, raising his eyes from the letter. By midday, Master? Why, in early morning I should have thought for, unless, indeed, you bide here till the innkeeper opens his doors. I have business, Joseph answered, with the Essenes that have settled in a cave above the Brook Kerith. About whom, the camel-driver interjected, there be much talk going in Jericho. They've disputed among themselves, some remaining where they always were on the eastern bank of the Jordan, but ten or a dozen going to the Brook Kerith, with Hazael for their president. And for what reason? Joseph inquired. I have told you, Master, all I know, and since you be going to the Brook Kerith the brethren themselves will give reasons better than I can, even if I had heard what their reasons be for differing among themselves. Whereupon Joseph bade his caravan proceed onward to Jerusalem.

We shall be surprised here by the daylight if we delay any longer, he said, returning to Jesus, and, mounting their asses, they rode down the hillside into a long, shallow valley out of which the track rose upwards and upwards penetrating into the hills above Jericho.



CHAP. XXIV.

Now it is here we leave the track, Jesus said, and he turned his ass into a little path leading down a steeply shelving hillside. We shall find the brethren coming back from the hills, if they aren't back already. It is daylight on the hills though it is night still in this valley; and looking up they saw a greenish moon in the middle of a mottled sky of pink and grey. Over the face of the moon wisps of vapour curled and went out: and the asses, Joseph said, are loath to descend the hillside for fear of this strange moon, or it may be they are frightened by the babble of this brook; it seems to rise out of the very centre of the earth. How deep is the gorge? Very deep, Jesus answered; many hundred feet. But the asses don't fear precipices, and if ours are unwilling to descend the hillside it is because the paths do not seem likely to lead to a stable; so would I account for their obstinacy. I'll not ride down so steep a descent, and Joseph slipped from his ass's back; and, rid of his load, the ass tried to escape, but Jesus managed to turn him back to Joseph, who seized the bridle. Dismount, Jesus, he cried, for the path is narrow, and to please him Jesus dismounted, and, driving their animals in front of them, they ventured on to a sort of ledge.

It passed under rocks and between rocks to the very brink of the precipice as it descended towards the bridge that spanned the brook some hundreds of feet lower down. Already our asses scent a stable, Jesus said; he called after them to stop, and the obedient animals stopped and began to seek among the stones for a tuft of grass or a bramble. I see no place here for a hermitage, Joseph said, only roosts for choughs and crows. There have been hermits here always, Jesus answered. We shall pass the ruins of ancient hermitages farther down on this side above the bridge. The bridge was built by hermits who came from India, Jesus said. And was destroyed, Joseph interjected, by the Romans, so that they might capture the robbers that infested the caves. But the Essenes must have repaired the bridge lately, Jesus replied, and he asked Joseph how long the Essenes had been at the Brook Kerith. My camel-driver did not say, Joseph answered, and Jesus pointed to the ledge that the Essenes must have chosen for a dwelling: it cannot be else, he said; there is no other ledge large enough to build upon in the ravine; and behind the ledge thou seest up yonder is the large cave whither the ravens came to feed Elijah. If the brethren are anywhere they are on that ledge, in that cave, and he asked Joseph if his eyes could not follow the building of a balcony: thine eyes cannot fail to see it, for it is plain to mine. Joseph said he thought he could discern the balcony. But how do we reach it? We aren't angels, he said. We shall ascend, Jesus answered, by a path going back and forth, through many terraces. Lead on, Joseph answered. But stay, let us admire the bridge they have built and the pepper-trees that border it. I am glad the Romans spared the trees, for men that live in this solitude deserve the beauty of these pepper-trees. Jesus said: yonder is the path leading to the source of the brook; fledged at this season with green reeds and rushes. They have built a mill I see! turned by the brook and fed, no doubt, by the wheat thy camels bring from Moab. But the Essenes seem late at work this morning.

As he spoke these words an old man appeared on the balcony, and Joseph said: that must be Hazael, but his beard has gone very white. It is Hazael, our president, Jesus answered. Let us go to him at once, and still driving the asses in front of them and carrying the puppies in their arms they worked their way up through the many terraces; not one is more than three feet wide, yet in every one are fig-trees, Jesus remarked, and there seem to be vines everywhere, for though the Essenes drink no wine, they sell their grapes to be eaten or to be turned into wine, Joseph. Our rule is not to kill, but we sell our sheep, and alas! some go to the Temple and are offered in sacrifice. I used to weep for my sheep, he muttered, but in this world——

The steep ascent checked further speech, and they walked to the east and then to the west, back and forth, fifty little journeys taking them up to the cenoby. The great door was opened to them at once, and Hazael came forward to meet them, giving his left hand to Joseph and his right to Jesus, whom he drew to his bosom. So, my dear Jesus, thou hast come back to us, Hazael said, and he looked into Jesus' face inquiringly, learning from it that it would not be well to ask Jesus for the story of what had befallen him during the last three years; and Joseph gave thanks that Hazael was possessed of a mind that saw into recesses and appreciated fine shades.

We are glad to have thee back again, Jesus; and thou hast come to stay, and perhaps to take charge of our flock again, which needs thy guidance. How so? Jesus asked. Hasn't the flock prospered under Brother Amos? Ah! that is a long story, Hazael answered. We'll tell it thee when the time comes. But thou hast brought dogs with thee, and of the breed that our shepherds are always seeking.

It was thus that Jesus and Hazael began to talk to each other, leaving Joseph to admire the vaulting of the long dwelling, and to wander out through the embrasure on to the balcony, from whence he could see the Essenes going to their work along the terraces. Among the ruins of the hermitage on the opposite side above the bridge, a brother fondled a pet lamb while he read. He is one, Joseph said to himself, that has found the society of this cenoby too numerous for him, so he retired to a ruin, hoping to draw himself nearer to God. But even he must have a living thing by him; and then, his thoughts changing, he fell to thinking of the day when he would ride out to meet Jesus among the hills. His happiness was so intense in the prospect that he delighted in all he saw and heard: in the flight of doves that had just left their cotes and were flying now across the gorge, and in the soothing chant of the water rising out of the dusk.

Jesus had told him that the gorge was never without water. The spring that fed it rose out of the earth as by enchantment. Hazael's voice interrupted his reveries: would you like, Sir, to visit our house? he asked, and he threw open the door and showed a great room, common to all. On either side of it, he said, are cells, six on one side, four on the other, and into these cells the brethren retire after breaking bread, and it is in this domed gallery we sit at food. But Jesus has spoken to thee of these things, for though we do not speak to strangers of our rule of life, Jesus would not have transgressed in speaking of it to thee. Joseph asked for news of Banu, and was sorry to hear that he had been killed and partially eaten by a lion.

The tidings seemed to affect Jesus strangely; he covered his face with his hands, and Hazael repented having spoken of Banu, guessing that the hermit's death carried Jesus' thoughts into a past time that he would shut out for ever from his mind. He atoned, however, for his mistake by an easy transition which carried their discourse into an explanation of the dissidence that had arisen among the brethren, and which, he said, compelled us to come hither. The Essenes are celibates, and it used to be my duty to go in search of young men whom I might judge to be well disposed towards God, and to bring them hither with me so that they might see what our life is, and, discovering themselves to be true servants of the Lord, adopt a life as delightful and easy to those who love God truly as it is hard to them whose thoughts are set on the world and its pleasures. I have travelled through Palestine often in search of such young men, and many who came with me are still with me. It was in Nazareth that we met, he said, and he stretched his hand to Jesus. Dost remember? And without more he pursued his story.

The brother, however, who succeeded me as missionary brought back only young men who, after a few months trial, fell away. It would be unjust for me to say that the fault was with the missionary: times are not as they used to be; the spirit of the Lord is not so rife nor so ardent now as it was once, and the dwindling of our order was the reason given for the proposal that some of us should take wives. The argument put forward was that the children born of these marriages would be more likely than other children to understand our oaths of renunciation of the world and its illusions. It was pleaded, and I doubt not in good faith, that it were better the Essenes should exist under a modified and more worldly rule than not to exist at all; and while unable to accept this view we have never ceased to admire the great sacrifice that our erstwhile brethren have made for the sake of our order. That the large majority was moved by such an exalted motive cannot be doubted; but temptations are always about; everyone is the Adam of his own soul, and there may have been a few that desired the change for less worthy motives. There was a brother——

At that moment an accidental tread sent one of the puppies howling down the dwelling, and Hazael, fearing that he might fall into the well and drown there, sent Jesus to call him back. The puppy, however, managed to escape the well in time, and the pain in his tail ceasing suddenly he ran, followed by his brother, out of the cenoby on to the rocks. I must go after them, for they will roll down the rocks if left to themselves, Jesus cried. A matter of little moment, Hazael replied, compared with the greater calamity of drowning himself in the well, for it is of extraordinary depth and represents the labour of years. Wonderful are the works of man, he added. But greater are the works of God, Joseph replied. You did well to correct me, Hazael answered, for one never should forget that God is over all things, and the only real significance man has, is his knowledge of God. But we were speaking of the exodus of a few monks from the great cenoby on the eastern side of Jordan.

We came hither for the reason that I have told. We left protesting that even if it were as our brethren said, and that the children of Essenes would be more likely than the children of Pharisees and Sadducees to choose to worship God according to the spirit rather than to wear their lives away in pursuit of vain conformity to the law—even if this were so, we said, man can only love God on condition that he put women aside, for woman represents the five senses: pleasure of the eyes, of the ears, of the mouth, of the finger-tips, of the nostrils: we did not fail to point out that though our brethren might go in and unto them for worthy motives, yet in so doing they would experience pleasure, and sexual pleasure leads to the pleasure of wine and food. One of the brethren said this might not be so if elderly women were chosen, and at first it seemed as if a compromise were possible. But a moment after, a brother reminded us that elderly women were not fruitful. To which I added myself another argument, that a different diet from ours is necessary to those who take wives unto themselves. Thou understandest me, Joseph? Women have never been a temptation to me, Joseph answered, nor to Jesus, and in meditative mood he related the story of the wild man in the woods, at the entrance of whose cave Jesus had laid a knife so that he might cut himself free of temptation.

At this Hazael was much moved, and they talked of Jesus, Joseph saying that he had suffered cruelly for teaching that the Kingdom of God is in our own hearts; for to teach that religion is no more than a personal aspiration is to attack the law, which, though given to us by Moses, existed beforetimes in heaven, always observed by the angels, and to be observed by them for time everlasting. Jesus, then, set himself against the Temple? Hazael said slowly, looking into Joseph's eyes. In a measure, Joseph answered, but it was the priests who exasperated the people against him, and what I have come here for, beyond his companionship on the journey is to beg of you to put no questions to him. A day may come when he will tell his story if he remain with thee. Here he is safe, Hazael said, and I pray God that he may remain with us. But where is Jesus? Hazael asked, and they sought him in the terraces, where the monks were at work among the vines. See our fig-trees already in leaf. Without our figs we should hardly be able to live here, and it is thy transport that enables us to sell our grapes and our figs and the wine that we make, for we make wine, though there are some who think it would be better if we made none.

It was thou that urged Pilate to free these hills from robbers, and hadst thou not done so we shouldn't have been able to live here. But I'm thinking of so many things that I have lost thought of him whom we seek. He cannot have passed this way, unless, indeed, he descended the terrace towards the bridge, and he could hardly have done that. He has gone up the hills, and they will help to put the past out of his mind. And, talking of Jesus' early life in the cenoby, and of his knowledge of flocks and suchlike, Hazael led Joseph through the long house and up some steps on to a rubble path. The mountain seems to be crumbling, Joseph said, and looked askance at the quiet room built on the very verge of the abyss. Where thou'lt sleep when thou honourest us with a visit, Hazael said, which will be soon, we trust, he continued; for we owe a great deal to thee, as I have already explained, and now thou com'st with a last gift—our shepherd.

On these words they passed under an overhanging rock which Joseph said would fall one day. One day, replied the Essene, all the world will fall, and I wish we were as safe from men as we are from this rock. Part of the bridge over the brook is of wood and it can be raised. But the ledge on which we live can be reached only from the hills by this path, and it would be possible to raid us from this side. Thou seest here a wall, a poor one, it is true; but next year we hope to build a much stronger wall, some twenty feet high and several feet in thickness, and then we shall be secure against the robbers if they would return to their caves. We have little or nothing to steal, but wicked men take pleasure in despoiling even when there is nothing to gain: our content would fill them with displeasure, he said, as he sought the key.

But on trying the door it was found to be unlocked, and Joseph said: it will be no use building a wall twenty feet high to secure yourself from robbers if you leave the door unlocked. It was Jesus that left the door unlocked, Hazael answered, he must have passed this way, we shall find him on the hillside; and Joseph stood amazed at the uprolling hills and their quick descents into stony valleys. Beyond that barren hill there is some pasturage, Hazael said; and in search of Jesus they climbed summit after summit, hoping always to catch sight of him playing with his dogs in the shadow of some rocks, but he was nowhere to be seen, and Hazael could not think else than that he had fallen in with Amos and yielded to the beguilement of the hills, for he has known them, Hazael continued, since I brought him here from Nazareth, a lad of fifteen or sixteen years, not more. We shall do better to return and wait for him. He will remember us presently. To which Joseph answered, that since he was so near Jericho he would like to go thither; a great pile of business awaited his attention there, and he begged Hazael to tell Jesus that he would return to bid him good-bye on his way back to Jerusalem that evening, if it were possible to do so.



CHAP. XXV.

It was as Hazael had guessed: the puppies had scampered up the loose pathway leading to the hills; Jesus had let them through the door, and had followed them up the hills, saying to himself: they have got the scent of sheep.

The stubborn, unruly ground lay before him just as he remembered it, falling into hollows but rising upwards always, with still a little grass between the stones, but not enough to feed a flock, he remarked, as he wandered on, watching the sunrise unfolding, and thinking that Amos should be down by the Jordan, and would be there, he said to himself, no doubt, were it not for the wild beasts that have their lairs in the thickets. Whosoever redeems the shepherd from the danger of lions, he added, as he climbed up the last ascents, will be the great benefactor. But the wolves perhaps kill more sheep than lions, being more numerous. It was at this moment that Brother Amos came into sight, and he walked so deep in meditation that he might have passed Jesus without seeing him if Jesus had not called aloud.

Why, Jesus, it is thou, as I'm alive, come back to us at last. Well, we've been expecting thee this long while. And thou hast not come back too soon, as my poor flock testifies. I'm ashamed of them; but thou'lt not speak too harshly of my flock to Hazael, who thinks if he complains enough he'll work me up into a good shepherd despite my natural turn for an indoor life. But I'd not have thee think that the flock perished through my fault, and see in them a lazy shepherd lying always at length on the hillside. I walk with them in search of pasture from daylight till dark, wearing my feet away, but to no purpose, as any man can see though he never laid eyes on a sheep before. But it was thou, Brother, that recommended me for a shepherd, and I can think of naught but my love of wandering with thee on the hills, and listening to thee prating of rams and ewes, that put it into my head that I was a shepherd by nature and thy successor.

Thou wast brought up to the flock from thy boyhood, and a ram's head has more interest for thee than a verse of Scripture; thy steady, easy gait was always the finest known on these hills for leading a flock; but my feet pain me after a dozen miles, and a shepherd with corny feet is like a bird with a torn wing. Thou understandest the hardship of a shepherd, and that one isn't a shepherd for willing it; and I rely on thee, Brother, to take my part and to speak up for me when Hazael puts questions to thee. So thou wouldst be freed from the care of the flock? Jesus said. My only wish, he answered. But thou'lt make it clear to Hazael that it was for lack of a good ram the flock fell away. I gave thee over a young ram with the flock, one of the finest on these hills, Jesus said. Thou didst; and he seemed like coming into such a fine beast, Amos answered, that we hadn't the heart to turn him among the ewes the first year but bred from the old fellow. An old ram is a waste, Jesus replied, and he would have said more if Amos had not begun to relate the death of the fine young beast that Jesus had bred for the continuance of the flock. We owe the loss of him, he said, to a ewe that no shepherd would look twice at, one of the ugliest in the flock, she seemed to me to be and to everybody that laid his eyes on her, and she ought to have been put out of the flock, but though uninviting to our eyes she was longed for by another ram, and so ardently that he could not abide his own ewes and became as a wild sheep on the hills, always on the prowl about my flock, seeking his favourite, and she casting her head back at him nothing loath.

It would have been better if I had turned the evil ewe out of the flock, making him a present of her, but I kept on foiling him; and my own ram, taking rage against this wild one, challenged him, and one day, seeing me asleep on the hillside, the wild ram came down and with a great bleat summoned mine to battle. It seemed to me that heaven was raining thunderbolts, so loud was the noise of their charging; and looking out of my dreams I saw the two rams backing away from each other, making ready for another onset. My ram's skull was the softer, he being a youngling, it had been already shaken in several charges, and it was broken in this last one, a terrible one it was, I can still hear them, they are still at it in my mind—the ewes of both flocks gathered on different sides, spectators.

But where were thy dogs all this while? Jesus inquired. My dogs! If I'd had a Thracian he never would have suffered that the sheep killed each other. A Thracian would have awakened me. My dogs are of the soft Syrian breed given to growling and no more. The wild ram might have become tame again, and would doubtless have stayed with me as long as I had the ewe; but he might have refused to serve any but she. No man can say how it would have ended if I had not killed him in my anger. So thou wast left, Jesus remarked, without a serviceable ram. With naught, Amos sighed, but the old one, and he was that weary of jumping that he began to think more of his fodder than ewes. Without money one can't get a well-bred ram, as I often said to Hazael, but he answered me always that he had no money to give me, and that I must do as well as I could with the ram I had.... He is gone now, but before he died he ruined my flock.

It is true that the shepherd's labour is wasted without a good ram, Jesus repeated. Thou speakest but the truth, Amos replied; and knowing the truth, forget not to speak well of me to Hazael, as a shepherd, finding reason that will satisfy him for the dwindling of the flock that henceforth will be in thy charge. Jesus said that he was willing to resume his charge, but did not know if Hazael and the brethren would receive him back into the order after his long absence. Amos seemed to think that of that there could be no doubt. All will be glad to have thee back ... thou'rt too useful for them to slight thee, he cried back, and Jesus returned to the cenoby dreaming of some grand strain that would restore the supremacy of the flock.

As he passed down the gallery Hazael, who was sitting on the balcony, cried to him; Joseph, he said, waited an hour and has gone; he had business to transact in Jericho. But, Jesus, what ails thee? It seems strange, Jesus answered, he should have gone away like this. But have I not told thee, Jesus, that he will return this evening to wish thee good-bye. But he may not be able to return this evening, Jesus replied. That is so, Hazael rejoined. He said that he might have to return to Jerusalem at once, but he will not fail to ride out to meet thee in a few days. But he will not find me on the hills, no tryst has been made, Jesus said, as he turned away; and guessing his intention to be to leave at once for Jericho, Hazael spoke of Joseph's business in Jericho, and how displeased he might be to meet Jesus in the middle of his business and amongst strangers. The Essenes are not well looked upon in Jerusalem, he said. We do not send fat rams to the Temple. Fat rams, Jesus repeated. Amos has been telling me that what lacks is a ram, and the community had not enough money to buy one. That is true, Hazael said. Rams are hard to get even for a great deal of money. Joseph might lend us the money, he is rich. He will do that, Jesus answered, and be glad to do it. But a ram must be found, and if thou'lt give me all the money thou hast I will go in search of one. Joseph will remit to thee the money I have taken from thee when he returns. It will be a surprise for him to find in the flock a great fine ram of the breed that I remember to have seen on the western hills. I'll start at daybreak. Thou shalt have our shekels, Hazael said; they are few, but the Lord be with thee and his luck.



CHAP. XXVI.

His was the long, steady gait of the shepherd, and he had not proceeded far into the hills before he was looking round acknowledging them, one after the other; they were his friends, and his sheep's friends, having given them pasturage for many a year; and the oak wood's shade had been friendly beforetimes to himself and his sheep. And he was going to rest in its shade once more. At noon he would be there, glad of some water; for though the day was still young the sun was warm, the sky told him that before noon his tongue would be cleaving to the sides of his mouth; a fair prediction this was, for long before the oak wood came into sight he had begun to think of the well at the end of the wood, and the quality of the water he would find in it, remembering that it used to hold good water, but the shepherds often forgot to replace the stopper and the water got fouled.

As he walked his comrades of old time kept rising up in his memory one by one; their faces, even their hands and feet, and the stories they told of their dogs, their fights with the wild beasts, and the losses they suffered from wolves and lions in the jungles along the Jordan. In old times these topics were the substance of his life, and he wished to hear the shepherds' rough voices again, to look into their eyes, to talk sheep with them, to plunge his hands once more into the greasy fleeces, yes, and to vent his knowledge, so that if he should happen to come upon new men they would see that he, Jesus, had been at the job before.

Now the day seems like keeping up, he said; but there was a certain fear in his heart that the valleys would be close and hot in the afternoon and the hill-tops uninviting. But his humour was not for fault-finding; and with the ram in view always—not a long-legged brute with a face like a ewe upon him, but a broad, compact animal with a fine woolly head—he stepped out gaily, climbing hill after hill, enjoying his walk and interested in his remembrance of certain rams he had once seen near Caesarea, and in his hope of possessing himself of one of these. With money enough upon me to buy one, he kept saying to himself, I shouldn't come back empty-handed. But, O Lord, the the day is hot, he cried at the end of the fourth hour. But yonder is the oak wood; and he stopped to think out the whereabouts of the well. A moment after he caught sight of a shepherd: who is, no doubt, by the well, he said. He is, and trying to lift out the stopper; and the shepherd, catching sight of Jesus, called him to come to his help, saying that it would need their united strength to get it out. We're moving it, the shepherd cried after a bit. We are, Jesus replied. How is the water? Fair enough if thy thirst be fierce, the shepherd replied. There is better about a mile from here, but I see thou'rt thirsty.

As soon as the men had quenched their thirst, the sheep came forward, each waiting his turn, as is their wont; and when the flock was watered it sought the shade of a great oak, and the twain, sitting under the burgeoning branches, began to talk. It was agreed between them that it would not do to advise anybody to choose shepherding as a trade at present, for things seemed to be going more than ever against the shepherd; the wild animals in the thickets along the Jordan had increased, and the robbers, though many had been crucified, were becoming numerous again; these did not hesitate to take a ewe or wether away with them, paying little for it, or not paying at all. But art thou a shepherd? Jesus answered that he had been a shepherd—an erstwhile Essene, he said; one that has returned to the brethren. The Essenes are good to the poor, the shepherd said, and glad to hear he was talking to a mate, he continued his complaint, to which Jesus gave heed, knowing well that it would not be long before they would be speaking of the breed of sheep best suited to the hills; the which came to pass, for, like Jesus, he lacked a good ram, and for the want of one, he said, his flock had declined. The better the breed, he continued, the more often it required renewing, and his master would not pay money for new blood, so he was thinking of leaving him; and to justify his intention he pointed out the ram to Jesus that was to serve the flock that autumn, asking him how a shepherd could earn with such a one the few lambs that he receives in payment if the flock increase under his care. He's four years old if he's a day, Jesus muttered. He is that, the shepherd answered; yet master told me yesterday he must serve another season, for he won't put his hand in his pocket, rams being so dear; but nothing, say I, is dearer than an old ram. I'm with thee in that, Jesus answered; and my plight is the same as thine. I'm searching for a ram, and have a friend who would pay a great sum of money for one if one of the style I am looking for can be found.

Well, luck will be with thee, but I know no ram on these hills that I'd pay money for, the shepherd answered, none we see is better than yon beast, and he is what thou seest him to be, a long-backed, long-legged, ugly ram that would be pretty tough under the tooth, and whose fleece a shepherd would find thin in winter-time.

But there were once fine sheep on these hills, Jesus answered, and I remember a ram—— Ay, mate, thou mayest well remember one, and I think I know the shepherd that thou'rt thinking of, but he that owns the breed will not sell a ram for the great sums of money that have been offered to him, for his pride is to keep the breed to himself. We've tried to buy, and been watching this long while for a lucky chance to drive one away, for a man that has more than he needs and will not sell aught thereof calls the thief down into his house, as it were, creating the thief out of an honest man, for which he deserves to be punished. But the rich are never punished and this man's shepherds are wary, and his dogs are fierce, and none has succeeded yet in getting a sample of the breed.

But where may this man be found? Jesus asked, and the shepherd mentioned a village high up on the mountains over against the sea. But go not thither, for twenty miles is a long walk if the end of it be but jeers and a scoffing. A scoffing! Jesus returned. Ay, and a fine one in thine ears; and a fine thirst upon thee, the shepherd continued, and turning to the oak-tree he began to cut branches to feed his goats. Twenty miles uphill in front of me, Jesus meditated, with jeers and scoffings at the end of the journey, of which I have had plenty; and he began to walk quickly and to look round the hills in search of pasture for a flock, for these hills were but faintly known to him. It isn't reasonable that a man will not part with a ram for a great sum of money, he said, and though he may not sell the lamb to his neighbours, whom he knows for rascals, he may sell to the Essenes, whose report is good. And he continued his way, stopping very often to think how he might find a bypath that would save him a climb; for the foot-hills running down from west to east, off the main range, formed a sort of gigantic ridge and furrow broken here and there, and whenever he met a shepherd he asked him to put him in the way of a bypath; and with a word of counsel from a shepherd and some remembrance he discovered many passes; but despite these easy ways the journey began to seem very long, so long that it often seemed as if he would never arrive at the village he was seeking. He told me I'd find it on the last ridge looking seaward. He said I couldn't miss it; and shading his eyes with his hand, Jesus caught sight of some roofs that he had not seen before. Maybe the roofs, he said, of the village in which I shall find my ram, and maybe he who will sell me the ram sits under that sycamore. If such be my fortune he will rise to meet me, Jesus continued, and he strove against the faintness coming over him. Is there a fountain? he asked. By that arch the fountain flows, drink thy fill, wayfarer. His sight being darkened he could not see the arch but stumbled against it and stood there, his face white and drawn, his hand to his side, till, unable to bear up any longer, he fell.

Somebody came to him with water, and after drinking a little he revived, and said he could walk alone, but as soon as they loosed him he fell again, and when lifted from the ground a second time he asked for the inn, saying he had come a long way. Whereupon a man said, thou shalt rest in my house; I guess thee to be a shepherd, though thy garb isn't altogether a shepherd's. But my house is open to him who needs food and shelter. Lean on my arm.

Let me untie thy sandals, were the next words Jesus heard, and when his feet were bathed and he had partaken of food and drink and was rested, the villager, whom Jesus guessed to be a shepherd, began to ask him about the length of the journey from Jericho to Caesarea: we're three hours from Caesarea, he said; thou must have been walking many hours. Many hours indeed, Jesus answered. I've come from the Brook Kerith, which is five miles from Jericho. From the Brook Kerith? the villager repeated. A shepherd I guessed thee to be. And a fair guess, Jesus answered. A shepherd I am and in search of a ram of good breeding, sent on hither by a shepherd. He did but make sport of thee, the villager answered, for it is I that own the breed that all men would have. So a shepherd sent thee hither to buy a ram from me? No, Jesus replied, he said thou wouldst not sell. Then he was an honester shepherd than I thought for: he would have saved thee a vain journey, and it would have been well hadst thou listened to his counsel, for I will not part with the breed; and my hope is that my son will not be tempted to part with the breed, for it is through our sheep that we have made our riches, such small riches as we possess, he added, lest he should appear too rich in the eyes of a stranger. If thou'lt not sell I must continue my journey farther, Jesus answered. In quest of a ram? the shepherd said. But thou'lt not find any but long-backed brutes tucked up in the belly that offend the eye and are worse by far than a hole in the pocket. With such rams the hills abound. But get thee the best, though the best may be bad, for every man must work according to his tools.

If thou asked me for anything but my breed of sheep I would have given it, for thy face and thy speech please me, but as well ask me for my wife or my daughter as for my rams. Be it so, Jesus answered, and he rose to continue his way, but his host said that having taken meat and drink in his house he must sleep in it too, and Jesus, being tired, accepted the bed offered to him. He could not have fared farther; there was no inn nor public guest-room, and in the morning his host might be in the humour to part with a ram for a great sum of money. But the morning found his host in the same humour regarding his breed of sheep—determined to keep it; but in all other things willing to serve his guest. Jesus bade him good-bye, sorry he could not persuade him but liking him all the same.

In two hours he was near the cultivated lands of Caesarea, and it seemed to him that his best chance of getting news of a ram would be to turn westward, and finding bed and board in every village, he travelled far and wide in search of the fine rams that he had once caught sight of in those parts. But the rams of yore seemed to have disappeared altogether from the country: thou mayest journey to Caesarea and back again, but thou'lt not find anything better than that I offer thee one man said to Jesus, whereupon Jesus turned his back upon Caesarea and began the return journey sad and humble, but with hope still a-flutter in his heart, for he continued to inquire after rams all the way till he came one bright morning to the village in which lived the owner of the great breed of sheep that he coveted, honourably coveted, he muttered to himself, but coveted heartily.

The sun was well up at the time, and Jesus had come by the road leading up from the coast. He had passed over the first ridge, and had begun to think that he must be near the village in which the man lived who owned the great breed of sheep when his thoughts were interrupted by a lamb bleating piteously, and, looking round, he saw one running hither and thither, seeking his dam. Now the lamb seeming to him a fine one, he was moved to turn back to the village to tell the man he had lodged with that a lamb of his breed had lost the ewe. Thou sayest well, the man answered, and that lamb will seek vainly, for the ewe hurt her hoof, and we kept her in the house so that she might be safer than with my shepherd out on the hills, and the luck we have had is that a panther broke into our garden last night. We thought he had killed the lamb as well, but he only took the ewe, and the lamb thou bringest me tidings of will be dead before evening. My thanks to thee, shepherd, for thy pains. But, said Jesus, thou'lt sell me the lamb that runs bleating after ewe, on the chance that I shall rear him? Whereat the villager smiled and said: it seems hard to take thy money for naught, for thou hast a pleasant face; but who knows what luck may be with thee. For a shekel thou shalt have the lamb. Jesus paid the shekel, and his eyes falling upon a bush in whose stems he knew he should find plenty of sap, he cut some six or seven inches off, and, having forced out the sap, showed it to the villager, and asked him for a rag to tie round the end of it. I hardly know yet what purpose thou'lt put this stem to, the shepherd said, but he gave Jesus the rag he asked for, and Jesus answered: I've a good supply of ewe's milk drawn from the udder scarce an hour ago. Thou hast ewe's milk in thy bottle! the villager said. Then it may be I shall lose my breed through thoughtlessness. And it was with a grave face that he watched Jesus tie a rag around the hollow stem.

He put the stem into the lamb's jaws and poured milk down it, feeding the lamb as well as the ewe could have done. It may be I shall get him home alive, Jesus muttered to himself. Thou'lt do it, if luck be with thee, and if thou canst rear him my breed has passed from me. Thou'lt be rewarded for taking my shekel, Jesus answered. A fine lamb for a month, the villager remarked. One that will soon begin to weigh heavy in my bosom, Jesus answered; a true prophecy, for after a few miles Jesus was glad to let him run by his side; and knowing now no other mother but Jesus, he trotted after him as he might after the ewe: divining perhaps, Jesus said to himself, the leathern bottle at my girdle.

But very soon Jesus had to carry him again, and, despite his weight, they were at noon by the well at the end of the oak wood. Lamb, we'll sleep awhile together in a pleasant hollow at the edge of the wood. Lay thyself down and doze. The lamb was obedient, but before long he awoke Jesus with his bleating. He wants some milk, he said, and undid the leather girdle and placed the feeding-pipe into the lamb's mouth. But before giving him milk he was moved to taste it: for if the milk be sour—— The milk has soured, he said, and the poor bleating thing will die in the wood, his bleatings growing fainter and fainter. He'll look into my face, wondering why I do not give him the bottle from which he took such a good feed only a few hours ago; and while Jesus was thinking these things the lamb began to bleat for his milk, and as Jesus did not give it to him he began to run round in search of the ewe, and Jesus let him run, hoping that a wild beast would seize and carry him away and with his fangs end the lamb's sufferings quicker than hunger could.

But no wolf or panther was in the thicket, and the lamb returned to him: brought back, he said, by a memory of the bottle. But, my poor wee lamb, there is no sweet milk in my bottle, only sour, which would pain thee. Think no more of life, but lie down and die: we shall all do the same some day.... Thy life has been shorter than mine, and perhaps better for that. No, I've no milk for thee and cannot bear to look in thy face: run away again in search of the ewe and find instead the panther that took her. Poor little lamb, dying for milk in this wild place. So thou hast returned to me, having found neither ewe nor panther. Go, and seek a wolf, he will be a better friend to thee than I.

He had seen many lambs die and did not understand why he should feel more pain at this lamb's death than another's. But it was so; and now all his hopes and fears centred in this one thing that Fate had confided to his bosom. A little milk would save it, but he had no milk. He might pick him up and run, calling to the shepherds, but none would hear. I cannot listen to his bleating any longer, he said, and tried to escape from the lamb, but he was followed round the trees, and just as he was about to climb into one out of the lamb's sight his nostrils caught the scent of fleeces coming up the hillside. A shepherd is leading his flock to the well-head, he said, so, wee lamb, thou wilt not die to-day, and, addressing himself to the shepherd, he said: I've got a lamb of the right breed, but have no milk to give him. Canst thou pay for it? the shepherd asked; and Jesus said, I can, and the shepherd called a ewe and the lamb was fed.

Well, luck is in thy way, the shepherd said, for I was on my way to another well, and cannot tell what came into my mind and turned me from it and brought me up here. Every life, Jesus said, is in the hands of God, and it was not his will to let this lamb die. Dost believe, the shepherd answered, that all is ordered so? And Jesus answered him: thou'lt fill my bottle with milk? The shepherd said: I will; but thou hast still a long way before the lamb can be fed again. Hide thy bottle under a cool stone in yon forest and in the evening the milk will still be sweet and thou canst feed thy lamb again and continue thy journey by starlight. But these hills are not my hills; mine are yonder, Jesus said, and at night all shapes are different. No matter, the way is simple from this well, the shepherd answered, and he gave Jesus such directions as he could follow during the night. Now mind thee, he continued, look round for a shepherd at daybreak. He'll give thee fresh milk for thy lamb and by to-morrow evening thou'lt be by the Brook Kerith. And this advice appearing good to Jesus, he turned into the shade of the trees with his lamb, and both slept together side by side till the moon showed like a ghost in the branches of the trees.

It was time then to feed the lamb, and the milk being sweet in the bottle, the lamb drank it greedily; and when he had drunk enough Jesus was tempted to drink what the lamb could not drink, for he was thirsty after eating his bread, but he went to the well and took a little water instead, and lay down, telling the lamb that he might sleep but a little while, for they must be ready at midnight to travel again. If we meet a shepherd thou livest, if he fail us thou diest. Jesus said, and seeing a shepherd leaving a cavern at dawn with his flock, Jesus called to him and bought milk from him and once more the twain continued their journey, the lamb becoming so dependent on the shepherd that Jesus took pleasure sometimes in hiding himself behind a rock, and as soon as the lamb missed him he would run to and fro bleating in great alarm till he found Jesus; and when he came upon him he thrust his nozzle into Jesus' hand.

It was then more than at any time he delighted in being carried. No, my good lamb, I've carried thee far and now can barely carry myself to the bridge; and the lamb had to follow to the bridge, and they began to ascend the terraces together, but the steep ascents very soon began to tire him, and the lamb lay down and bleated for Jesus to take him up in his arms, which he did, but, overcome with the weariness of a long journey, he had to lay him down after a few paces. Yet he would not surrender the lamb to the brethren who came and offered to carry him, saying: I have carried him so far and will carry him to the end, but ye must let me rest on your arms. Meanwhile, fetch me a little milk, for the lamb has had all that I could buy from the shepherds on the hills, and do not ask how I became possessed of this lamb, for I am too tired to tell the story. So did he speak, holding the lamb to his bosom; and leaning on the arm of one of the brethren while another pushed from behind, and in this exhausted state he reached the cenoby.

Now I must feed my lamb; go to Brother Amos and ask him to bring some ewe's milk at once. But the brethren were loath to go, saying: Brother Amos is feeding his sheep far from here, but will return in the evening. But the lamb must be fed every three or four hours, Jesus answered, and do ye go at once to Amos and tell him to bring the milk at once. He must not be kept waiting for his milk. Now look at him and say if any of ye have seen a finer lamb. I can speak no more, but will sleep a little as soon as I have placed him in a basket. But wake me up as soon the milk comes, for I will trust none to feed him but myself, and he dropped off to sleep almost on these words.

The Essenes, understanding that the lamb had caused Jesus a long search, went after Amos as they were bidden, and finding him not as far as they thought for with his flock, they related to him Jesus' request that he should bring some ewe's milk at once, which he did, and seeing Jesus in deep sleep he said: it is a pity to waken him, for I know how to feed a lamb as well as he does. May I not? But the Essenes said: he'll be vexed indeed if the lamb be fed by any but him. So be it, Amos answered; and they roused Jesus with difficulty, for his sleep was deep, and when he opened his eyes he knew not where he was for some time. At last memory returned to him, and, struggling from the couch, he said: I must feed my lamb. The milk is fresh from the ewe? he asked. Yes, Jesus, Amos answered, I have just drawn it from the udder. As soon as he is old enough to run with the flock I'll bring him, Jesus said, and thou'lt be free to return to the Scriptures.

And having asked that he might be awaked in four hours his eyes closed, which is not to be wondered at, he having slept hardly at all for four days. Does he put his lamb before the Scriptures? the Essenes asked each other, and they withdrew, shaking their heads.



CHAP. XXVII.

Jesus fell back into sleep as soon as the lamb was fed, and it was in this second sleep of more than six hours that he regained his natural strength. Has Joseph returned? he asked on awakening, and the brother nearest him answered that he had not; whereupon Jesus asked that Hazael should come to him, and he said to him: Hazael, Joseph told thee that as soon as his business was transacted in Jericho he would return hither, and if that were not possible the delay would not be long. But four days have passed and we haven't seen him nor have we news of him. Now how is this? He couldn't have heard in Jericho nor in Jerusalem of my faring among the hills of Caesarea in search of a lamb. It was only on those hills that I might find a lamb that would recover for us the strength that has gone out of the flock. And I would that Joseph were here to see him that I've brought back. My heart misgives me. Thou'lt feed him in my absence, he said to one of the brethren, and I'll go down on to the terraces and wander across the bridge, for on the hills over yonder I may catch sight of Joseph coming to meet me. Can none tell me if he will come from Jericho or Jerusalem? A brother cried that he would feed the lamb as Jesus directed, and the brethren at work among the fig-trees spoke to each other of the grief visible on Jesus' face as he passed them and questioned each other and sought a reason for it. Has the lamb fallen sick? one asked, and on that thought they ran up the terraces to inquire for the lamb, who, that day, had been given the name of Caesar. The lamb sleeps in peace, Hazael answered, but Jesus, his saviour, has gone out in great disorder of mind to get tidings of Joseph, the great trader in figs and dates. He promised to return the same evening after transacting his business in Jericho, Hazael continued. Four days have passed away without news of him; some misfortune may have befallen him. May have! Hazael repeated under his breath as he walked away. Has befallen him without doubt.

The brethren waited for Jesus to return, but he did not return to them; and at nightfall a watch was set at the bridge head, and the same was done for many succeeding days, till the story reached the Brook Kerith that Joseph had been killed in the streets of Jerusalem by order of the Zealots. Priests never forget to revenge themselves on those that do not submit to their ideas and exactions, Hazael muttered, thereby stirring the curiosity of the brethren; but he could not tell them more, Joseph's relation having been insufficient to make plain the truth that Joseph, as Jesus' friend, must have earned the High Priest's displeasure. A very little suspicion, he said to himself, is enough to bring about the death of a man in our days; and the priests were always jealous and afraid of prophets. Is then our Jesus a prophet? Saddoc asked, and Manahem's eyes were full of questions. I can tell ye no more than I've said already, Hazael answered, and the brethren forgot their curiosity, for their hearts were stirred with pity. A great grief it surely will be, they said to one another, when Jesus returns and hears that his friend is dead, and they asked which among them should be the one to tell him of this great loss that had befallen him. Not I, said one, nor I, another answered, and as they passed into their cells it was the opinion of all that Hazael should tell him.

Next morning when they came forth from their cells, after giving thanks for the returning light, they stood on the hillside, hoping that every minute would bring them sight of Jesus returning. At last a shepherd came through the dusk, but it was not Jesus but Amos coming towards them, and the news he brought was that he had met Jesus on the hills wandering like one of disordered mind. He has taken my sheep from me and has lost them, I fear. But why, the brethren cried, didst thou leave thy sheep to him? To which Amos could make no straightforward answer: all he knew was that he had met Jesus and been greatly frightened by his speech and his show of gestures and demeanour. All the same, he said, I felt I had better let him have the sheep. And the brethren said: ruin has befallen us this time. We know the reason of the disordered mind that thou tellest of. Joseph was slain by the Zealots in Jerusalem by order of the priests, and the tidings must have come to Jesus as he wandered out on to the hills seeking his friend, and it was they that robbed him of his mind. We are ruined, the brethren cried, for our sheep are with him, and he without thought for anything but his grief. Amos could not answer them nay, for their words seemed to him but the truth, and they all returned to the cenoby to mourn for Jesus and themselves till Jesus was brought back to them by some shepherds who found him wandering, giving no heed to the few sheep that followed him; only a few had escaped the wolves, and the brethren charged Amos with the remnant, muttering among themselves: his heart is broken. He is without knowledge of us or the world around him. But why does he turn aside from our dwelling preferring to lie with his dogs under the rocks? It is for that our dwelling reminds him of Joseph. It was here he saw him last, Manahem replied. It will be well to leave him to wander at will, giving him food if his grief allows him to come for it; any restraint would estrange him from us, nor may we watch him, for when the mind is away man is but animal; and animals do not like watchful eyes. We may only watch over him lest he do himself bodily harm, Eleazar said, There is no harm, Manahem said, he can do himself, but to walk over the cliffs in a dream and so end his misery. We would not that the crows and vultures fed on Jesus, Caleb answered. We must watch lest he fall into the dream of his grief.... But he lives in one. Behold him now. He sees not the cliffs over yonder nor the cliffs beneath. Nor does he hear the brook murmur under the cliffs. Grief is a wonderful thing, Manahem said, it overpowers a man more than anything else; it is more powerful even than the love of God, but it wears away; and in this it is unlike the love of God, which doesn't change, and many of us have come here so that we may love God the better without interruptions. It is strange, Eleazar said, that one who loves God as truly as Jesus, should abandon himself to grief. Eleazar's words caused the Essenes to drop into reveries and dreams, and when they spoke out of these their words were: his grief is more like despair. And in speaking these words they were nearer the truth than they suspected, for though Jesus grieved and truly for Joseph, there was in his heart something more than mortal grief.

It often seemed to him as he sat gazing across the abyss that his temerity in proclaiming himself the Messiah was punished enough by crucifixion: the taking from him of the one thing that crucifixion had left behind often put the thought into his mind that God held him accursed; and in his despair he lost faith in death, believing he would be held accursed for all eternity. He forgot to take food and drink; he fed upon his grief and would have faded out of life if Caesar had not conceived a dislike to his keeper and run bleating among the rocks till he came upon Jesus whom he recognised at once and refused to leave, thrusting a nozzle into Jesus' hand and lying down by his side. Nor could the brethren beguile the lamb from Jesus with milk, and Jesus taking pity on the faithful animal said: give me the feeding bottle, I will feed him. Whereupon Caesar began to bleat, and so cheerfully, that all conceived a new affection for him, but he had none for anybody but Jesus, whom he followed about the cliffs as a dog might, lying down at his side.

The twain strayed together whither there was scarce foothold for either, and the brethren said as they watched them: if Caesar were to miss his footing and fall over the edge, the last link would be broken and Jesus would go over after him. But sheep and goats never miss their footing, a brother answered. It is fortunate, another replied, that Caesar should have attached himself to Jesus. He seems to say, I get happier and happier every day, and his disposition will react on Jesus and may win him out of his melancholy.

And it seemed as if the brother had guessed rightly, for though Jesus' face showed no interest in the brethren, nor in the cenoby, he seemed to enjoy the sympathy of the dumb animal. He liked to call to Caesar and to lay his hand upon Caesar's head, and to look into his eyes, and in those moments of sympathy the brethren said: he forgets his grief. But Caesar is coming into ramhood, Saddoc answered, and will have to go away with the flock. There were brethren who cried out against this: let the flock perish rather than Jesus should be deprived of Caesar. Wouldst have him remain when he is a great ram? Manahem asked, and the others answered: yes, for Jesus takes no thought for anything but Caesar, and the brethren conferred together, and spent much thought in trying to discover a remedy other than Caesar for Jesus' grief.

But one day Jesus said to the brethren: Caesar is coming into ramhood, and I must take him away to the hills, he must come with me and join the ewes. Art thou going to be our shepherd again? said they. If ye will entrust the flock to me. My thoughts will never wander from it again. Jesus spoke the words significantly, and many of the brethren believed that he would prove himself to be the great shepherd that he was of yore, but others said: his grief will break out upon him on the hills; but these counsels were overruled by Manahem and Saddoc. Jesus, Saddoc said, never smiles and his words are few, but he is himself again, and the best shepherd that ever walked these hills is worse than he, so it is said. He lost a few sheep, Manahem said, in the first days of his great grief, but his mind is altogether now on the encouragement of the flock and Amos is wearied of it and would return to the reading of the Scriptures. Thou speakest well, Manahem, Saddoc returned, for it was in his mind as it was in Manahem's that the sight of men and the sound of men's voices were a torture to Jesus, and that he longed for solitude and silence and the occupation of the flock.

The cenoby will never be the same again without our pet, some of the brethren cried, but others said: it must be so. We'll go to see Caesar's lambs, they cried, as he was being led away. There will be no lambs by Caesar this spring, Jesus answered. He'll run with the ewes and that's about all; for a ram is not fit for service till he is two years old. Whereupon the distraction of Jesus' grief being removed from the cenoby, the Essenes fell to talking again of the great schism and what came of it. Are our brothers happier in wedlock than we are in celibacy? was the question they often put to each other on the balcony; and a sudden meeting of thoughts set them comparing the wives beyond Jordan with the ewes of the hills. Which are the most fruitful? they asked themselves; and it was averred that though twin lambs were of equal worth, it might fall out in the strange destinies that beset human life that one of human twins might be a robber and the other a devout Essene.

On a balcony overhanging an abyss some hundred feet in depth, through which a brook sings a monotonous song, men may dream a long while on the problem of destiny, and on awaking from their different meditations it was natural that they should speak about the difficulties the brethren by the lake would experience when they set themselves to discover women who would accept the rule of life of the Essenes and for no enjoyment for themselves, but that the order might not perish, and with it holiness pass out of the world.

Of what women will they possess themselves? a brother often asked. Not Jewish women, who would prefer to join themselves with Pharisees or Sadducees rather than with Essenes, and the converts, the brother continued, that might be made among the Gentile women from Mesopotamia and Arabia could not be counted upon to produce pious children, though the fathers that begot the children might be themselves of great piety. These words put the thought into another brother's mind, that a woman is never faithful to one man, an abiding doctrine among the Essenes: and the group of three, Caleb, Eleazar and Benjamin, began to speak of the stirs and quarrels that these converts would provoke in the cenoby. For even amongst those who have renounced women, there are always a few that retain a longing for women in their heart, and the smouldering embers will burst into flame at the sight of woman. Is not that so, Benjamin? There is much truth in thy words, Caleb, Benjamin answered, and I would know if they partition off the women into an enclosure by themselves, and only take them out at a time judged to be the fruitfullest, for it is not lawful for us to experience pleasure, and as soon as the women are with child, the brethren we have left behind, I trust, withdraw from the company of their wives. Unless, said Eleazar, all the rules of our order be abolished. We did well to leave them, Caleb answered. And then, posing his small fat hands on the parapet, he said: women have ever been looked upon as man's pleasure, and our pleasures are as wolves, and our virtues are as sheep, and as soon as pleasure breaks into the fold the sheep are torn and mangled. We're better here with our virtues than they by the lake with their pleasures.

Trouble has begun amongst them already, Eleazar said, and Benjamin turned to ask him if he had gotten news of the brethren by the lake; and he answered that yesterday a shepherd told him that many brothers had left the settlement. We did well, Caleb said, to cherish our celibacy, and the price of living on this rock was not too high a price for it. But tell us what thou hast heard, Eleazar. Eleazar had heard that troubles were begun, but he hoped children would bring peace to all. But all women aren't fruitful, Caleb said, and Benjamin was vexed with Eleazar because he hadn't asked how many women were already quick. And they fell to talking scandal, putting forward reasons why some of the brethren should separate themselves from their wives.

Perhaps we shall never know the why and the wherefore, Eleazar said, it being against our rules to absent ourselves without permission from the cenoby, and if we were to break this rule, Hazael might refuse to receive us again. We should wander on the hills seeking grass and roots, for our oaths are that we take no food from strangers. Yet I'd give much to hear how our brethren, for they are our brethren, fare with their wives.

And when they met on the balcony, the elder members of the community, Hazael, Mathias, Saddoc and Manahem, like the younger members conferred together as to whether any good could come to those that had taken wives to themselves for their pleasure. Not for their pleasure, Hazael said, but that holiness may not pass out of the world for ever. But as holiness, Mathias was moved to remark, is of the mind, it cannot be affected by any custom we might impose upon our corporeal nature. Whereupon a disputation began in which Manahem urged upon Mathias that if he had made himself plain it would seem that his belief was that holiness was not dependent upon our acts; and if that be so, he asked, why do we live on this ledge of rock? To which question Mathias answered that the man whose mind is in order need not fear that he will fall into sin, for sin is but a disorder of the mind.

A debate followed regarding the relation of the mind to the body and of the body to the mind, and when all four were wearied of the old discussion, Saddoc said: is it right that we should concern ourselves with these things, asking which of the brothers have taken wives, and how they behave themselves to their wives? It seems to me that Saddoc is right, these matters don't concern us who have no wives and who never will have. But, said Manahem, though this question has been decided so far as our bodies are concerned, are we not justified in considering marriage as philosophers may, no subject being alien to philosophy? Is not that so, Mathias? No subject is alien to philosophy, Mathias agreed, to which Saddoc replied: we could discuss this matter with profit if we knew which of the brothers had taken to himself a wife; but only rumours reach us here; and the brethren looked across the chasm, their thoughts crossing it easily and passing over the intervening hills down into the plains and over Jordan. We should no doubt be content, said Manahem, with our own beliefs, and abide in the choice that we have made without questioning it further, as Hazael has said. Yet it is hard to keep thoughts of the brethren we have left out of our minds. How are we, Hazael, to remain unmoved when rumours touching on the lives of those we have left behind reach us? Is it not merely natural that we should desire to hear how our brethren fare in married life? Dost think, Hazael, that those we left behind never ask each other how we fare in our celibacy? Man is the same all the world over inasmuch as he would like to hear he has avoided the pitfall his brother has fallen into. It is said, Manahem continued, that the elders yonder are disturbed now as to whether they too should take wives, though in the great disputation that we took part in, it was decided that marriage should be left to the younger and more fruitful. Wherefore, if it is said that trouble has come, Hazael answered, we should be sorry for our weak brethren, and if stories reach us, he continued, we should receive them with modesty: we should not go out to seek stories of the misfortunes of those who have not been as wise as we, and of all we should not wish to go down to Jordan to inquire out the truth of these stories; Caleb and Benjamin ask betimes for leave to visit them. Eleazar, too, has asked; but I have refused them always, knowing well whither their curiosity would lead them. Lest, Mathias interposed, they bring back the spirit and sense of women with them.

A flock of doves crossing over the chasm on quick wings put an end to the discourse, and as no more stories reached them who dwelt in the cavern above the Brook Kerith regarding the behaviour of the wives to their husbands and of the husbands towards their wives, the thoughts of the younger brethren reverted to Caesar, and to the admiration of the ewes for his beauty. A year later, when Jesus came down from the hills, he was met with cries of: how fares it with Caesar? Does he tire on the hills? When will the ewes begin to drop their lambs? A buzz of talk began at once in the cenoby when the news arrived that Caesar's lambs were appearing, but the brethren could not conceal their disappointment that they should look like the lambs they had seen before. We expected the finest lambs ever seen on these hills, they said, and thou hast no more word to say in praise of them than that they are good lambs. Jesus answered that in two months he would be better able to judge Caesar's lambs, and to choose amongst them some two or three that would continue the flock worthily. Which? the brethren asked, but Jesus said a choice would be but guess-work at present, none could pick out the making of a good ram till past the second month. Caleb marked one which he was sure would be chosen later, and Benjamin another, and Eleazar another; but when the time came for Jesus to choose, it was none of these that he chose, and on hearing of their mistakes, the brethren were disappointed, and thought no more of the flock, asking only casually for Caesar, and forgetting to mourn his decease at the end of the fourth year; his successor coming to them without romantic story, the brethren were from henceforth satisfied to hear from time to time that the hills were free from robbers; that the shepherds had banded together in great wolf hunts; and that freed from their natural enemies, the wolves and robbers, the flock had increased in numbers beyond the memory of the oldest shepherd on the hills.



CHAP. XXVIII.



The brethren waxed rich, and after their midday meal they talked of the exceeding good fortune that had been vouchsafed to them, dwelling on the matter so earnestly that a scruple sometimes rose up in their hearts. Did we do well to forgo all troubles? Do the selfish find favour in God's sight? they were asking, when Caleb said: we have visitors to-day, and looking across the chasm they saw three men emerging from the shadow of the high rock. They may be robbers, Benjamin cried, and we would do well to tell the brethren working along the terraces to pass the word down to him who stands by the bridge-head that he is to raise the bridge and refuse to lower it till the strangers speak to him of their intentions and convince him that they are peaceful. That is well said, Benjamin, Eleazar replied: Amos, who is standing by the fig-tree yonder, will pass on the word. They cried out to him and watched the warning being passed from Essene to Essene till it reached the brother standing by the bridge-head. He looked in the direction of the strangers coming down the path, and then in haste set himself to pull the ropes and press the levers whereby the bridge was raised and lowered. Now they are speaking across the brook to each other, Benjamin said: and the group on the balcony saw the bridge being let down for the strangers to cross over. It seems to me, Benjamin continued, Bartholomew might have spent more time inquiring out their intentions. But we are many and they are few, Caleb answered, and the Essenes on the balcony watched somewhat anxiously Bartholomew conducting the strangers back and forth through the terraces. Is not Bartholomew as trustworthy as any amongst us? Eleazar asked. It isn't likely that he would mistake robbers for pilgrims; and as if Bartholomew divined the anxiety of those above him he called up the rocks that the visitors he was bringing were Essenes from the lake. Essenes from the lake! Caleb cried. Then we shall learn, Eleazar replied, which is preferable, celibacy or marriage. But we mustn't speak at once to them of such matters. We must prepare food for them, which they will require after their long journey. Our president will be with you in a moment, Bartholomew said, addressing Shallum, a tall thin man, whose long neck, sloping shoulders and dark round eyes reminded his brethren of an ungainly bird. His companions, Shaphan and Eleakim, were of different appearances. Shaphan's skull, smooth and glistening, rose, a great dome above a crumpled face; he moped like a sick monkey, dashing tears from his eyes continually, whereas Eleakim, a sprightly little fellow with half-closed eyes like a pig, agreed that Shallum should speak for them. Shallum began: we are, as you have already heard, from the great cenoby at the head of the lake and, therefore, I need not tell you the reason why you are here and why the residue are yonder, but will confine myself to the story of our flight from the lake to the brook. Honourable President and Brethren, it is known unto you that the division of our order was not brought about by any other reason than a dispute on both sides for the maintenance of the order. We know that, Hazael answered, and attribute no sinfulness to the brethren that differed from us. Our dream, Shallum continued, was to perpetuate holiness in this world, and our dream abides, for man is a reality only in his dreams; his acts are but a grotesque of his dream.

At these words the Essenes gathered close together, and with brightening eyes listened, for they interpreted these words to mean that the brethren by the lake had fallen headlong into unseasonable pleasures, whereof they were now reaping the fruit: no sweet one, if the fruit might be judged by the countenances of their visitors. As I have said, Shallum continued, it was with us as it has been with men always—our acts became a mockery of our dreams almost from the beginning, for when you left us we gave out that we were willing to receive women who would share our lives and with us perpetuate holiness. We gave out that we were willing to view all who came and consider their qualifications, and to take them as wives if they should satisfy us, that they would obey our rule and bear children; but the women that came in response to our advertisement, though seemingly of pious and honourable demeanour, were not satisfied with us. Our rule is, as you brethren know well, to wear the same smock till it be in rags, and never to ask for a new pair of sandals till the last pieces of the old pair have left our feet. We presented, therefore, no fair show before the women who came to us, and when our rule was told to them, they withdrew, dissatisfied with our appearances, with the food we ate, and the hours we kept, and of all with the rule that they should live apart from us, only keeping company with us at such times when women are believed to be most fruitful. Such was the first batch in brief; the second batch (they came in batches) pleaded that they could not be wives for us, it being that we were held in little esteem by the Sadducees and the Pharisees, and we were reproved by them for not sending animals for sacrifice to the Temple, a thing that we must do if we would have them live with us. But it being against our rule to send animals to the Temple for sacrifice, we bade them farewell and sent forth messengers into other lands, inviting the Gentiles to come to us to receive instruction in the Jewish religion, with promises to them that if our rule of life was agreeable to them, and they were exact in the appointments of all rites and ceremonies, we should be willing to marry them after their time of probationship was over. On this second advertisement, women came to us from Arabia and Mesopotamia, and though we did not approve of the fine garments they wore and the sweet perfumes that trailed after them, we liked these things, as all men do, with our senses; and our minds being filled with thoughts of the children that would continue the order of the Essenes, we spoke but little against the fine linen that these women brought and the perfumes they exhaled, whereby our ruin was consummated. Joazabdus, our president, himself fell into the temptation of woman's beauty and was led into sinful acquiescence of a display of the images she had brought with her; for without a display of them on either side of the bridal bed she would not permit his embraces. She was of our religion in all else, having abjured her gods and goddesses at every other moment of the day and night; but licence of her body she could not grant except under the eyes of Astarte, and Joazabdus, being a weak man, allowed the images to remain. As soon as the news of these images spread, we went in deputation to our president to beg him to cast out the images from our midst, but he answered us: but one image remains—that of Astarte: none looks upon it but she, and if I cast out the image that she reverences she will go hence and with the fruit of my body within her body, and a saint may be lost to us. But we answered him that even as Jacob set up parti-coloured rods before the conceiving ewes that they might bear parti-coloured lambs, so to gaze in the marriage-bed upon the image of Astarte would surely stamp upon the children that might come the image of that demon. But he was not to be moved, whereupon we withdrew, saying to one another: we shall not move him out of his wickedness; and that was why we went to his brother Daddeus and asked him to accept the headship of the community in his brother's place. And seeing that he was unwilling to set himself against his brother, we said: our God comes before all things, and here we have heathen goddesses in our midst; and the end of it was that Cozby, that was the Chaldean woman's name, put poison into Daddeus' food, thinking to establish her rule thereby, but as soon as the death of Daddeus became known many left the cenoby polluted in their eyes by heathenism and murder.

So it always falls out, Hazael cried, wine and women have lost the world many saints. Wine deceives the minds of those that drink it, and it exalts men above themselves, and leads them into acts that in any other moment they would shrink from, leaving them more stupid than the animals. Nor is the temptation of women less violent than that of wine. Women's beauty is even more potent, for once a man perceives it he becomes as if blind to all other things; his reason deserts him, he broods upon it by day, and falls at last, as our brother has told us, into unseasonable pleasures, like Solomon himself, about whom many things are related, but not so far as I know that he became so intoxicated with women's various beauty that he found his pleasure at last in his own humiliation. If Solomon did not, others have; for there is a story of a king that allowed his love of a certain queen to take so great a hold upon him that he asked her to come up the steps of his throne to strike him on the face, to take his crown from his head and set it upon her own. This was in his old age, and it is in old age that men fall under the unreasonable sway of women—he was once a wise man, so we should refrain from blame, and pity our brethren who have fallen headlong into the sway of these Chaldean and Arabian women. I might say much more on this subject, but words are useless, so deeply is the passion for women ingrained in the human heart. Proceed, therefore, Brother: we would hear the trouble that women have brought on thee, Brother Eleakim. At once all eyes were turned towards the little fellow whose wandering odours put into everybody's mind thoughts of the great price he must have paid in bracelets and fine linen, but Eleakim told a different story—that he was sought for himself alone, too much so, for the Arabian woman that fell to his lot was not content with the chaste and reasonable intercourse suitable for the begetting of children, the reason for which they had met, but would practise with him heathen rites, and of a kind so terrible that one night he fled to his president to ask for counsel. But the president, who was absorbed in his own pleasures, drove him from his door, saying that every man must settle such questions with his wife. Hazael threw up his hands. Say no more, Brother Eleakim, thou didst well to leave that cenoby. We welcome thee, and having heard thee in brief we would now hear Brother Shaphan. At once all eyes were turned towards the short, thick, silent man, who had till now ventured into no words; and as they looked upon him their thoughts dwelt on the strange choice the curator had made when he chose Brother Shaphan for a husband; for though they were without knowledge of women, their sense told them that Brother Shaphan would not be pleasing to a woman. But Eleakim's story had prepared them for every strange taste, and they waited eagerly for Shaphan. But Shaphan had not spoken many words when tears began to roll down his cheeks, and the brethren of the Brook Kerith bethought themselves that it might be a kindly act to avert their eyes from him till he recovered his composure; but as his grief continued they sought to comfort him, telling him that his troubles were now ended. He would not, however, lift his face from his hands at their entreaty, and his companions said that the intervals between his tears since he was married were never long. At these words Shaphan lifted his face from his hands and dashed some tears from his eyelids. He will tell us now, the brethren said to themselves, but he only uttered a few incoherent words, and his face sank back into his hands.

And it was then that Jesus appeared at the end of the domed gallery. Hazael signed to one of the brethren to bring a chair to him, and when Jesus was seated Hazael told him who the strangers were in these words: great trouble has fallen upon our order, he said, the wives the brethren have taken unto themselves against my counsel have not obeyed their husbands. Wilt tell our Brother Jesus the trouble that has befallen those that stayed by the lake, Shallum? I will, Shallum replied, for it will please him to hear my story and it will be a satisfaction to me to tell the quarrels that set my wife and me apart till at last I was forced to send her back to her own people. My story will be profitable to you, though you are without wives, for to err is human. The brethren were at once all ear for the new story, but Shallum was so prolix in his telling of his misfortunes that the brethren begged him to tell them again of the ranging of the gods and goddesses on either side of the president's marriage-bed. He paid no heed to them, however, but proceeded with his own story, and so slow was his procedure that Hazael had to interrupt him again. Shallum, he said, it is clear to me that our shepherd has come with some important tidings to me, and it will be kind of thee to forgo the rest of thy story for the present at least, till I have conferred with our shepherd. I should have been loath, Jesus interposed, to interrupt a discourse which seems to be pleasing to you all and which would be to me too if I had knowledge of the matters which concern you, but the differences of men with their wives and wives with their husbands are unknown to me, my life having been spent on the hills with rams and ewes. As he said these words a smile came into his eyes. The first smile I have seen on his face for many years, Hazael said to himself, and Jesus continued: I have left my flock in charge of my serving boy, for I have come to tell the president that he must not be disappointed if many sheep are lost on the hills this year; robbers having hidden themselves again in the caves and fortified themselves among cliffs so difficult that to capture them soldiers must be let down in chests and baskets—a perilous undertaking this is, for the robbers are armed and determined upon revolt against Herod, who they say is not a Jew, and holds his power in Judea from the Romans. They are robbers inasmuch as they steal my sheep, but they are men who value their country higher than their lives. This I know, for I have conferred with them: and Jesus told the Essenes a story of an old man who lived in a cave with his family of seven, all of whom besought him to allow them to surrender to the Romans. Cowards, he said, under his breath, and made pact with them that they should come out of the cave one by one, which they did, and as they came he slew them and threw their bodies into the precipice, sons and daughters, and then he slew his wife, and after reproaching Herod with the meanness of his family, although he was then a king, he threw himself from the cliff's edge.