CHAPTER IV.
Next morning a goodly train set out from the gates of Nathan ben Obed.It was near the time of the feast of the Passover, and he, with many ofhis household, was going down to Jerusalem.
The family and guests went first on mules and asses. Behind themfollowed a train of servants, driving the lambs, goats, and oxen to beoffered as sacrifices in the temple, or sold in Jerusalem to otherpilgrims.
All along the highway, workmen were busy repairing the bridges, andcleaning the springs and wells, soon to be used by the throngs oftravellers.
All the tombs near the great thoroughfares were being freshlywhite-washed; they gleamed with a dazzling purity through the greentrees, only to warn passers-by of the defilement within. For had thoseon their way to the feast approached too near these homes of the dead,even unconsciously, they would have been accounted unclean, and unfitto partake of the Passover. Nothing escaped Joel's quick sight, from thetulips and marigolds flaming in the fields, to the bright-eyed littleviper crawling along the stone-wall.
But while he looked, he never lost a word that passed between his friendPhineas and their host. The pride of an ancient nation took possessionof him as he listened to the prophecies they quoted.
Every one they met along the way coming from Capernaum had something tosay about this new prophet who had arisen in Galilee. When they reachedthe gate of the city, a great disappointment awaited them. _He had beenthere, and gone again._
Nathan ben Obed and his train tarried only one night in the place, andthen pressed on again towards Jerusalem. Phineas went with them.
"You shall go with us next year," he said to Joel; "then you will beover twelve. I shall take my own little ones too, and their mother."
"Only one more year," exclaimed Joel, joyfully. "If that passes asquickly as the one just gone, it will soon be here."
"Look after my little family," said the carpenter, at parting. "Comeevery day to the work, if you wish, just as when I am here; andremember, my lad, you are almost a man."
Almost a man! The words rang in the boy's thoughts all day as he poundedand cut, keeping time to the swinging motion of hammer and saw. Almost aman! But what kind of one? Crippled and maimed, shorn of the strengththat should have been his pride, beggared of his priestly birthright.
Almost, it might be, but never in its fulness, could he hope to attainthe proud stature of a perfect man.
A fiercer hate sprang up for the enemy who had made him what he was; andthe wild burning for revenge filled him so he could not work. He putaway his tools, and went up the narrow outside stairway that led to theflat roof of the carpenter's house. It was called the "upper chamber."Here a latticed pavilion, thickly overgrown with vines, made a coolgreen retreat where he might rest and think undisturbed.
Sitting there, he could see the flash of white sails on the blue lake,and slow-moving masses of fleecy clouds in the blue of the sky above.They brought before him the picture of the flocks feeding on thepastures of Nathan ben Obed.
Then, naturally enough, there flashed through his mind a thought of Buz.He seemed to see him squinting his little eyes to take aim at a leafoverhead. He heard the stone whirr through it, as Buz said: "I'd blindhim!"
Some very impossible plans crept into Joel's day-dreams just then. Heimagined himself sitting in a high seat, wrapped in robes of state;soldiers stood around him to carry out his slightest wish. The doorwould open and Rehum would be brought forth in fetters.
"What is your will concerning the prisoner, O most gracious sovereign,"the jailer would ask.
Joel closed his eyes, and waved his hand before an imaginary audience."Away with him,--to the torture! Wrench his limbs on the rack! Brand hiseyelids with hot irons! Let him suffer all that man can suffer and live!Thus shall it be done unto the man on whom the king delighteth to takevengeance!"
Joel was childish enough to take a real satisfaction in this scene heconjured up. But as it faded away, he was man enough to realize it couldnever come to pass, save in his imagination; he could never be in such aposition for revenge, unless,--
That moment a possible way seemed to open for him. Phineas wouldprobably see his friend of Nazareth at the Passover. What could be morenatural than that the old friendship should be renewed. He whose handhad changed the water into wine should finally cast out the alien kingwho usurped the throne of Israel, for one in whose veins the blood ofDavid ran royal red,--what was more to be expected than that?
The Messiah would come to His kingdom, and then--and then--the thoughtleaped to its last daring limit.
Phineas, who had been His earliest friend and playfellow, would he notbe lifted to the right hand of power? Through him, then, lay the royalroad to revenge.
The thought lifted him unconsciously to his feet. He stood with his armsout-stretched in the direction of the far-away Temple, like some youngprophet. David's cry of triumph rose to his lips: "Thou hast girded mewith strength unto the battle," he murmured. "Thou hast also given methe necks of mine enemies, that I might destroy them that hate me!"
A sweet baby voice at the foot of the steps brought him suddenly downfrom the height of his intense feeling.
"Joel! Joel!" called little Ruth, "where is you?"
Then Jesse's voice added, "We're all a-coming up for you to tell us astory."
Up the stairs they swarmed to the roof, the carpenter's children andhalf-a-dozen of their little playmates.
Joel, with his head still in the clouds, told them of a mighty king whowas coming to slay all other kings, and change all tears--the waters ofaffliction--into the red wine of joy.
"H'm! I don't think much of that story," said Jesse, with out-spokencandor. "I'd rather hear about Goliath, or the bears that ate up theforty children."
But Joel was in no mood for such stories, just then. On some slightpretext he escaped from his exacting audience, and went down to thesea-shore. Here, skipping stones across the water, or writing idly inthe sand, he was free to go on with his fascinating day-dreams.
For the next two weeks the boy gave up work entirely. He haunted thetoll-gates and public streets, hoping to hear some startling news fromJerusalem. He was so full of the thought that some great revolution wasabout to take place, that he could not understand how people could beso indifferent. All on fire with the belief that this man of Nazarethwas the one in whom lay the nation's hope, he looked and longed for thereturn of Phineas, that he might learn more of Him.
But Phineas had little to tell when he came back. He had met his friendtwice in Jerusalem,--the same gentle quiet man he had always known,making no claims, working no wonders. Phineas had heard of His drivingthe moneychangers out of the Temple one day, and those who sold doves inits sacred courts, although he had not witnessed the scene.
The carpenter was rather surprised that He should have made such apublic disturbance.
"Rabbi Phineas," said Joel, with a trembling voice, "don't you thinkyour friend is the prophet we are expecting?"
Phineas shook his head. "No, my lad, I am sure of it now."
"But the herald angels and the star," insisted the boy.
"They must have proclaimed some one else. He is the best man I everknew; but there is no more of the king in His nature, than there is inmine."
The man's positive answer seemed to shatter Joel's last hope. Downcastand disappointed, he went back to his work. Only with money could heaccomplish his life's object, and only by incessant work could he earnthe shining shekels that he needed.
Phineas wondered sometimes at the dogged persistence with which thechild stuck to his task, in spite of his tired, aching body.
He had learned to make sandal-wood jewel-boxes, and fancifully wroughtcups to hold the various dyes and cosmetics used by the ladies of thecourt.
Several times, during the following months, he begged a sail in some ofthe fishing-boats that landed at the town of Tiberias. Having gained thefavor of the keeper of the gates, by various little gifts of his ownmanufacture, he always found a ready admittance t
o the palace.
To the ladies of the court, the sums they paid for his pretty waresseemed trifling; but to Joel the small bag of coins hidden in the foldsof his clothes was a little fortune, daily growing larger.