Part I

Preface by Eric Parker

Foreword by Rev. B. A. Lester, B.A. (Oxon)

I  II  III  IV  V  VI VII  VIII  IX  X  

XI  XII  XIII  XIV  XV  XVI XVII  XVIII  XIX  XX  

XXI  XXII  XXIII  XXIV  XXV  XXVI XXVII  XXVIII  XXIX    

Part II

XXX  XXXI  XXXII  XXXIII  XXXIV  XXXV  XXXVI XXXVII  XXXVIII  

XXXIX  XL  XLI  XLII  XLIII  XLIV  XLV  XLVI XLVII  XLVIII  XLIX

Note on the Insurrection by E. B. Gibbes

PREFACE

READERS who remember Miss Geraldine Cummins's book, The Childhood of Jesus, published twelve years ago, will know what to expect in this later narrative, The Manhood of Jesus. Other readers, perhaps new comers, will find here in a transcript of strange beauty, the vision of a youthful manhood spent in Palestine; of a Life in the open air, of plain and mountain, desert and flowering valley; of years spent among companions differing in outlook and character, some of them enemies of their fellow creatures, others ascetic and holy; all of them influenced by one Life of love and succour, lighted by an inner radiance not of the kingdoms of men.

As with The Childhood of Jesus, so in this later book, the surroundings are of plain men and women living in countryside and town, among sights common and rare, workers of differing trades and creeds; and through and among whom moves the Figure able to rouse or quieten the minds of fellow mortals about Him. So, through the years the Life passes by road and waste, peopled by merchants, fishermen, outlaws; in the treetops flit "birds that wore yellow sunstained wings"; in the dark move grey shapes of wolves; till the serene Life moves on to fate foreknown. With the Life yet continuing the book ends.

ERIC PARKER

FOREWORD

by

THE REV. B. A. LESTER, B.A. (Oxon)

THE picture that is given in the story that follows of sundry events in the human life of the Son of God, elsewhere unrecorded, is at once intensely beautiful and intensely thought-provoking. Many an artist, dramatist and writer of historical romance, both in ancient and modern times, has sought to portray features and incidents in that supreme life which the evangelists have left to the wondering speculation and reverent imagination of future generations. Such portrayals have not been without value. Where they have been based on reverence they have inspired reverence and where they have been based on intelligent historical intuition they have inspired a deeper interest and a keener study of the factual setting of the world's greatest and most vital drama. And who that believes in a spiritual world at all, can deny that intuition and reverence may at times be unconsciously guided by some flash from an unseen source along the paths of truth?

The profound reverence that is shown for the central figure of this story, entitles the work to a respect from the Christian reader proportionate to the interest and enjoyment that its reading will evoke.

For enjoyment and thought-provoking interest there is&emdash;and in abundance. We are carried away by the vivid sense of human drama and the beauty of the poetic imagery and vision. Moreover, many of the scenes and incidents are historically suggestive. What was the real motive that led to the betrayal by Judas? Can any of the many suggested answers to this question fit in better with the narrative presented by the evangelists than the passionate, militant nationalism here portrayed? And though less closely interwoven with available historical records&emdash;there is much food for thought in the beautiful and dramatic picture of our Lord's early visit to St. John the Baptist while the latter was observing a retreat of silence before his active mission in the wilderness, and in that other dramatic picture describing life in an Essene community.

The early pages of the story deal with the family life at Nazareth and link up closely with a former book&emdash;one also of great beauty&emdash;published under the name of The Childhood of Jesus.

But there are images in the following narrative which convey a vivid sense of memories not of this age and not born in the "Isles of the West."

St. John the Baptist, after a solemn hush of expectation, so it is recorded, "broke the silence as a man breaks bread." Would such an image occur to a western mind? But, once we think of the "Unleavened Bread" of the Passover&emdash;and its form&emdash;a large hard, thin disc which, in the hush of a solemn gathering, would break with a resounding snap&emdash;the dramatic fitness of the image becomes startling indeed.

The book here presented to the public will be enjoyed for its beauty and will provoke deep thought in all who think at all. Above all, it will arouse that sense of the abiding mystery of things which the world to-day needs as a starving man needs food.

For the civilization that has lost its sense of wonder has lost its soul&emdash;and who shall say that its body may not follow it into destruction?

PART ONE

CHAPTER I

WHEN Jesus had reached the stature of manhood and the age of twenty-two years, he parted from Heli, the Outcast, taking sorrowful leave of him. For several seasons these two had been together going on journeys or living with the wandering tribes in the wilderness. And all this while Heli had been as a watchful elder brother to the youth. But they might not remain together, for Heli believed that, though love cherishes it can also overshadow. Thus came the parting. Heli turned his face eastwards and Jesus went northwards.

It was stiff in the first season of the year and the desert was parched and bare, the hot sand blowing hither and thither, the sun strong in its cruelty and might. But in Galilee all living things rejoiced, birds sang, trees put on green garments, the lake smiled and lilies of the field opened to the light. So, as Jesus told James at a later time, his gladness overflowed, his mind perceiving home and that season of gracious flowering in Galilee. He was Son of Man as well as Son of God; and as is the way with those who have dwelled in far places a long while, his spirit fled before him to his own country. Wherefore he was of good heart as he passed through the fiery furnace across that desolate land.

The sun shoots down many thousands of fiery arrows upon the travellers in those wastes, the jackals cry at night and, when they are hungry, have beset the wanderer who dwells in a loneliness that is like no other on earth.

The Son of Mary had known loneliness in his youth when pressed about by a multitude in the streets of Jerusalem or when face to face with the crafty Scribe of Nazareth. But here, on this his first journey alone in the wilderness, he was wholly at peace, walking daily with his Heavenly Father&emdash;his Father being in that blessed time within him and without.

So, when the jackals came seeking their meat and to his resting-place in the night hours, he did but rise and smile upon them, and they gave him greeting of their own kind. Then they drew back and made a circle round the stranger.

He slept and they watched by him all the night. Only when day broke swiftly did hunger draw them away from the One they, though dumb beasts, had perceived was Master, and elsewhere they sought their prey.

In spite of hardships and weariness Jesus was glad, and the gladness went with him even when he crossed the desert borders and came into Judaea.

It was only on the second day of his entering that land that trouble and the shadow of things to come passed across his spirit like a wandering mist.

Evening was gathering, rain falling among the windy hills. To a traveller from the southern deserts they were comfortless and even perilous because of the robbers and the wolves that come out of their dens at sunset seeking their prey. But neither the hardships of the time nor the menace of the desolate heights oppressed Jesus. He was uplifted in spirit in spite of his weariness. Shelter must be found from the coiling vapour and from the cold. Perceiving a cave above him he left the path and climbed among great rocks. Almost he had reached the level place that fronted the mouth of the cave, when the emptiness of that world of torn valleys and giant hills was changed. There came the cry of wild beasts upon the wind, and where there had been no living thing a man stood&emdash;even in the hollow at the entrance, to the shelter Jesus sought.

Grey shapes crept from behind the boulders. They were wolves, fierce and eager, seeking the stranger that they might devour him. Jesus did not carry a staff, he was without defense. Nor did he bend down to pick up stones as shepherds in those hills have done in past times, thinking in vain to frighten these beasts that, when hunger is theirs, may not be stayed by any fear from their desire.

But perfect love casts out desire, and in the presence of perfect love these wolves were, it appeared, stricken, desire perishing and awe quietening hunger, allaying thirst for blood. Jesus gazed upon them, raising his hands, making the sign of benediction, and they were holden.

Not one of those beasts leaped upon the traveller. All laid themselves down about him and lifted up their heads, once more crying out in their own speech. But it was not the wolf-cry of hunger, it was the cry of friendly greeting, as one brother may greet another.

Jesus stood there for a small while and spoke to them from his heart. And though the sounds were shaped in the tongue of man and not in the speech of beasts, they were not moved to anger, but in answer bayed their delight. The rocks echoed it, the small creatures hidden in holes came out from them because of that strange clamour.

Then indeed Jesus was a man of light, radiant light, gaiety on his lips, pure contentment flowing from him to the wolves and the circle of rocks and the wild birds that gathered about his head.

He advanced across the level place towards a man who leaped forward, making sips to the wolves, making their own sounds. But his was the command that is given only by the elder wolf to his brethren. It was his fear for the life of the traveller that led him thus to seek to stay the course of the wild beasts.

Jesus smiled. Being fearless, it made his heart merry to perceive the hermit's trouble for his sake. Now the hermit was of great stature, long and lean, and he stood a cubit above the youth as they looked into each other's face. Then the traveller began to speak the words of his request for shelter, but suddenly he ceased, for the shadow of things to come lay between these two men. It fell darkly, oppressively, as in the hour before the heavens open and lightning smites the earth.

Jesus was shaken. He could not govern himself in that time; his soul was filled with anguish. He knew not whence this trouble came. The knowledge was holden from him that this hermit would one day stand beside still waters and show him the road he must follow.

Light had not yet failed on that cliff that hung above the stony valley. And it seemed that this Holy Man, standing there in the last radiance of sunset, was the elder by ten years of these two. Yet they were the one age. But the hermit, clad only in sackcloth, was hairy in the body. No blade had ever hewn off the long beard or the hairs that grew upon his breast. He was stem of countenance, and in all his bearing showed a resolution, a temper of mind that was like the hard metals of the mountains which nought may bend or break.

Only slowly did Jesus perceive these things as he came out of the trouble of the storm that had shaken his soul. Then in peace but in sadness he followed the hermit into the cave.

A rushlight burnt in that dim place and a parchment lay beside the fight as if it had been cast down in haste. It was a copy of the Holy Book, a rare treasure that declared its owner to be one of God's people.

Now Jesus had eaten only a few berries in the past two days. Wherefore his spirit failing, he asked for food. Then the hermit placed parched lentils and a crust of bread upon a rock. But when Jesus would eat his host plucked at his coat with a glance of reproof. For it seemed that Jesus, by reason of his faintness mayhap, offended against the Law which ordains that the faithful wash their hands before they sit at meat. Making a sign to the youth, the Holy Man led him to a pool wherein he bathed himself. Afterwards he returned to the table that was a rock and ate and was filled.

The wind called, the wolves cried without the cave, and the Holy Man went forth, making the sounds familiar to these beasts, silencing them. But when he returned to his guest he did not answer his talk, he gazed upon him searchingly. It might have seemed that he was dumb if it had not been for the sharp fierce cries he had uttered in the language of the wolves. So Jesus divined that his host was one of those who had entered into the Great Silence. For as he knelt in prayer he spoke no words, though his hands were clasped, his lips moved, and his eyes were raised as if to the Ruler of Heaven and Earth.

The spirit of sadness had not deserted Jesus. He was still cast down, his heart failing in the presence of one whom he revered; one who, it seemed, bore with him the menace of the coming years. But even as he prayed he, too, was shaken, caught in his strong desire for his God.

"The Father is in me and I am in Him," said Jesus, who divined that for this man there was no easy welding of his being with God the Father. Nay, it was a wrestle, at times a fierce striving for him to come to that serenity when the soul, filled with light, knows the peace ineffable.

Jesus repeated: "God the Father is in me and I am in Him."

Again there came no answer. But the hermit's trembling ceased. The beads of sweat no longer stood upon his brow, he straightened out his limbs, and they were at rest.

Then looking upon this stern, strange man, Jesus loved him; and glad in that love, he spoke words that came from the very fount of his being.

Our Father which art in heaven,

Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come,

Thy Will be fulfilled on earth as it is in Thy Heaven."

Never had Jesus spoken this prayer before; he found it in that hour while in the presence of this nameless hermit of the hills.

Astonishment changed the countenance of the Holy Man, but even now he did not speak, though his lips moved as if they would question the youth. In a little while they closed again. Once more he went into the Great Silence&emdash;this time without struggle or pain, finding God's peace.

Jesus lay down to rest, his soul still somewhat shadowed by the token this man's presence offered to his spirit, by a dark riddle he might not read even in the quiet of that lonely night.

But sleep is an awakening. Men slumber while they live another life afterwards forgotten. Nevertheless, at rare times there can be remembrance of that state that lies beyond death and pain.

Jesus dreamed a dream. He saw an old man standing before an altar burning incense, and an angel stood beside this priest. Wherefore the priest perceiving him, cast himself down and was afraid. The angel bade the old man be without fear, and told him that his wife Elisabeth, who was now well stricken in years, would bear a son, and his name was&emdash;Here the sound of that name slipped past the hearing of the dreamer, so that he knew it not. But other words followed that spoke of the life of the babe that Elisabeth would conceive.

"He shall come in the power and spirit of Elias and shall go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways, to turn the fathers to the children and the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just."

Other sayings of the angel flowed into the dreamer's soul; and when the Messenger of the Highest had made an end there was darkness on the face of the dream. But in a little while it passed, and Jesus gazed upon a young woman, beautiful as no other was beautiful, pure as no other was pure. He knew her to be great above all women, but again her name was holden from his understanding. And even as he strove to find the remembrance that was his of that face, it was snatched away and he stood in the room of a house in the hill country of Judaea.

There came to his ears the name of Elisabeth, and his eyes fell upon one who sat weaving, whose hair was grey, her face showing the lines of age, and she was with child.

Zacharias, her husband, knelt apart in a corner. Though he prayed, no sound came from his lips, and later, when he rose and his wife set bread and meat before him, he did not speak to her, showing only his needs by signs.

It was towards evening when that young woman of Galilee entered the room and called Elisabeth by the name of cousin; and on the utterance of her gentle salutation all in that room changed instantly and strangely. Those present fell back, making a circle about these two mothers, the one so old, the other so young in years. But in spite of her youth the marks of past pain and hardship had set their seal upon her brow and mouth. Nevertheless her face shone, and before its light the people bowed their heads.

"Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb."

Then the dream was shaken as the waters of a pool are troubled. And when stillness came upon its face again, the woman who was so young and it would seem so ignorant, lifted up her voice, and hers was a song of glory, a song of prophecy that bore a truth which was and is and shall be for all time, a truth that illumined the understanding of the dreamer.

"How came she by it?" he asked.

A voice made answer: "The words of that psalm are secret words put into the mouth of this woman by the Holy Ghost."

And at the ending of the song the witnesses ran out of that house and noised abroad the glad tidings concerning these two women, the promise and the glory. But they remained alone together, and the elder woman fetched water and washed the feet of the traveller. Then they spoke with one another, and thus speaking, passed from the sight of the dreamer who, climbing down the dark heights of sleep, found himself in the cave, opening his eyes to the light of early day.

And he perceived the hermit's kneeling figure as it had been when he fell asleep. But now no shadow of the menacing years lay between them, joy and perfect peace held Jesus in their hold. Even as the wings of a bird the vision of the night bore him upwards, so that the Kingdom of Heaven lived within him, yet it did not abide within the dark man who knelt, patiently waiting and praying in the dimness of that cave.

As he lay there and considered the dream, Jesus was perplexed. He did not know that the things he had seen had come to pass&emdash;that in the region beyond pain and death they were written and were for ever.

CHAPTER II

JESUS was in two minds. One mind drew him towards Galilee, his Mother, Mary Clophas and his cousins, the other would keep him on this bare hill in the company of the hermit who was like no other man he had encountered in his life before.

But his wish for Galilee was the stronger, and he yielded to it. So in the early day while still the valleys were dark he rose up and spoke the words of farewell.

The hermit frowned and made signs of command to his guest that he should abide in that cave and surrender his wish for the road. But Jesus persisted, inasmuch as his own place called him. Then the Holy Man made signs of entreaty that he should stay, and there was sorrow in his eyes and humility in his whole bearing. Gentle and courteous, the young man could not refuse the elder, who seemed in that hour lonely and in need; his sternness, his harshness seeking that kindness which overflowed from the stranger.

Thus it came to pass that the road was not sought on that day. Jesus washed himself in the pool, and then followed the Holy Man out of the cave and along a slit in the cliff that passed across the face of a precipice. And after a little while they came to a small piece of earth which had been watered by the night's vapours. This was the hermit's garden, and the two worked in it until the sun was high in the heavens.

Then they returned to the cave and the hermit served his guest with the best that he had to offer&emdash;a portion of wild honey and locusts as his meat.

When they had eaten, the hermit prayed in silence and afterwards slept for an hour or more. It was his custom to keep vigil all the night, so in the hour of noon deep was his slumber. Jesus watched by him and knew him to be bound to his strange dream. But he could not read the riddle of it&emdash;only he was glad.

So when the Holy Man roused up and went out into the open where he knelt and prayed, Jesus went forth also. But Jesus did not abide in silence, and sought in song to tell of his joy to the Father. His voice no longer made music like the flute. It was gentle and deep as the sound of the waves that play upon the Galilean shore. And the dumb creatures gathered and listened and even the rocks of that wild place would seem to hearken to the psalm:

Praise the Lord, praise O ye servants of the Lord.

Praise His Name.

Blessed be the name of the Lord from this time forth for evermore.

From the rising up of the sun unto the going down of the same the Lord's Name is to be praised."

In that hour Jesus was again a man of light, a man of joy. Not even the sombre hermit could withstand that delight in praise and song. Indeed, he broke the habit of his life and prayed no more; he rose up and stood leaning against a rock, watching the singer, listening to his melody.

Of a sudden he wept, but his were tears as precious as water in a desert, and they allayed that dryness that had oppressed his soul. Until sunset he remained at ease, the hours customarily given over to prayer and meditation passing idly by. So, as was related by one of his disciples in the after-time, he did not seek God on that day, yet God came to him fully, wholly, as He had never come in such sureness before.

This was the first miracle wrought by Jesus in the years of his manhood. And when telling of it to his disciples, the Holy Man spoke of his own doubt at the end of that day lest he had yielded to the demon of idleness. But in that time he looked on the face of Jesus, and he knew that he had in no way offended.

For three days these men lived the one life, sharing all things. The hermit did not break his vow of silence, though as hath been declared, he was sorely tempted to speak with the stranger, to ask him many questions, to discover his home, so that they might meet again when the time of his vow of silence was accomplished.

But strong was the resolution, unbreakable a promise made by this great spirit. So, though these two were in communion, yet, to each, the other was a mystery.

Nevertheless, Galilee called. Its call was sweet as the first bird's song at sunrise. It might not be ignored. When, therefore, on the third day noon was passed and Jesus had sung a psalm of thanksgiving to his Father, he, too, for a while went into the Great Silence. Before he came out of it the shadows were dark in the valleys and light, clearer, purer, than at noon seemed to wash all those heights, so that though barren, they shone, they rejoiced. In that still time Jesus said:

"While with thee I have taken thought for the morrow. But from henceforth I shall not take thought for it, inasmuch as the road is now open before me."

The Holy Man bowed his head, showing thus that he hearkened to his brother. And Jesus continued:

"There are two ways of life for the seekers of truth in our generation. The first is chosen by one of thy temper of soul. Such a man lives in the Great Silence, speaking to none of his kind, at rare times holding speech with birds and beasts who are innocent of the knowledge of good and evil. Through fasting and prayer, through wrestling of the spirit he seeks the truth, the way and the life. All this is preparation. But there are as many demons in the wilderness as there are in the towns. Yea, it is said that the wilderness is the place of demons. Wherefore only a strong soul may dwell in it and in the Great Silence in any surety and in any peace."

The hermit assented through a change of countenance, his face frowning and darkening, thus telling of his silent warfare with the demons of melancholy and weariness.

Jesus continued:

"But it is not for fear of these evil spirits that I have chosen the second way of life. It is by reason of my temper of soul that I would dwell among men. It is other than thine. Here in the wilderness I must needs labour only for my own salvation. And even though I know that this time in the Great Silence is for thee preparation, yet I may not tarry and abide here as thy disciple, for I must be about my Father's business."

There was authority in his voice as Jesus spoke these last words, and they were followed by others that held in them no doubt or question.

"It is my purpose to travel along the second road, to live in the world and not be of the world. Through fellowship with man I shall seek to do the work of God. Verily, verily, it is needful for me to find, while in the company of all kinds of men, the way, the truth and the life. Thus I am assured I shall do my Father's will. I go to my home in Nazareth where are my mother and my brethren. But I may not abide with them in the one house. I shall find my own place and labour with my hands. Carpenter, husbandman, fisherman, shepherd and wanderer, peradventure I shall be all these; inasmuch as thus I shall learn of the secrets of my Galilean brethren&emdash;their sorrows, their hardships, their cares. Then may I give to them who will answer the knock at the door. Then shall I open it to those who are heavy laden and would have rest. But what is earned by me that exceeds my needs I shall present to the poor, the old and those in need. Thus I purpose to seek the truth. And neither the beggars, the publicans, the sinners, nor the woman who lives in adultery, shall be to me common and unclean. Verily, all are children of my Father."

Here Jesus fell into a silence, and while he was thus withdrawn, the Holy Man made a sign of dissent with his head. Trouble and grief changed his countenance by reason of these words of parting uttered by Jesus. So great was his distress he walked to and fro in that narrow level place&emdash;to the very brink of the cliff and back again. A score of times he walked to and fro. Then wearying he halted, showing a ravaged face to Jesus; and, plucking at his sleeve and with signs of entreaty, he besought him to remain in his company. He showed with movements of his hands the hills, the sky, the desolate valleys, and thus pitifully sought to declare his strong desire that the young man should follow the first way, what seemed to him the better way, to salvation.

At last Jesus came out of his silence again, speaking with authority.

"All life is a leave-taking. We two, who are one in our love of God, are of a different texture of soul. Verily, my love for men comes from the deepest fount of my being. I may not, therefore, gainsay it by living apart from them. But thou hast the gifts of the prophet. These may the more easily be grown and nourished in the silence of this cave, in the stillness of the wilderness. They are best brought forth in meditation, in prayer, in loneliness. Wherefore, the first way is the true way for thee. But I know that for me prophecy is not the end, nor have I thy gift. My gift is to love my brethren. So it would be a great wrong if I hid it and myself in this desert place away from all men.

"Now a certain merchant gave three talents to one man and one alent to another; and he bade them make use of these talents so that they might yield an increase. He who had three talents obeyed the merchant, and when he came again to him he brought him five. But the second man buried his talent in a napkin. And behold, when the merchant came to him in the evening, and this fellow gave back the one talent, the lender was very wrathful.

"Thus it is that we upon whom our Father has bestowed one gift or several gifts, should not hide them away but increase them&emdash;threefold, fourfold, according to our powers."

With a sigh the hermit raised his hands and blessed Jesus, showing in this way that he was reconciled to the parting. But in spite of his resignation he was cast down and heavy of spirit, and it was a sadness such as his companion had in no time known before.

He opened the Holy Book that lay upon a rock and searched in it, praying that it would reveal some comfort, some healing for this man's sorrow.

The sun passed away from those hills and twilight gathered before its time. Still Jesus searched, until at last his eyes were arrested by a text. Having gathered it to himself he closed the book and said:

"It is written, 'Behold I send my messenger before my face which shall prepare thy way before thee'. Among those born of woman there is not one greater than the prophet which is to come&emdash;even in our generation. Art thou the man?"

To this question the hermit made no answer by sips or movements of his body. Almost it seemed as if the words had gone past his hearing like the wind. But it was not so. Sadness fell away. There came the change that is wrought by a generous saying. And behold, quiet reigned within and without the Holy Man.

In that stillness the winds slept, no jackals barked, no wolves cried. It was as if God had hushed the world. Then, in an instant, light like the desert dawn broke suddenly, swiftly, awesomely&emdash;a light that shone upon the face of the hermit, that came from his head, his feet, his hands, his whole body; and he stood up tall and straight at the edge of the cliff. His was a majesty greater than the majesty of those heights, greater than the might of that loneliness. And in that hour the watcher perceived that he had found himself, that he was the mouthpiece of all the prophets, yea, he was more than the prophets. So, falling on his face before that presence, Jesus bowed himself down in all humility of heart.

It seemed that Elias and Moses were there, that they were of this great man and were not of him.

In that twilight, in that peace their spirits mingled with each other; and so long as they remained thus, the unnamed prophet of the prophets gave of his light to that darkening world.

When presently this holiness withdrew, the hermit turned back from the edge of the cliff. Now with that radiance quenched he went slowly into the cave, laid himself down and fell into a deep sleep.

Jesus remained alone in the world without, gazing into the darkness before moonrise, seeking question and answer in that night. Finding none, he, too, joined the hermit and slept within the cave.

CHAPTER III

AT sunrise Jesus girded up his loins, gave thanks to, his silent host and spoke the words of farewell. These two showed no signs of grief in this leave-taking; for theirs was a holy calm, a deep serenity. Together on that last evening they had shared a divine mystery, and now their spirits were as one.

When the traveller might no longer be seen the hermit walked to the edge of the cliff, faced northwards towards Galilee and raised his hands above his head, holding them thus for two hours. Because of his vow he might not declare in words his joy and his thanksgiving. So he held up his hands to the heavens in token of praise, and only when the heat of noon came did he from weariness cease thus to give glory to his Lord and his Creator.

But down in the valley in that early day Jesus walked and sang, rejoicing in the freedom of the road. Now and then on coming upon some green place he halted to pluck a rare flower and would study it, marvelling at the wonder of its shape, the grace of its design. Then, when a bird called, he would give back note for note; and his sweet clear whistle at times deceived the singer, who made answer with a pipe or a brave gaiety of song, and Jesus would laugh, and continue this sport till he was wearied, his whistle spent.

For a while a boy was his companion on the road, a lad not more than fourteen summers, who in the aftertime, told of the doings of the young Galilean on that gay morning. He knew not that Jesus was the Appointed One, but in the years of the ministry he found the Master again and became one of the Seventy Disciples.

On this day of grace they parted at the turn of the road. Near noon a traveller joined Jesus who gave his name as Bethuel and told his story. He was going on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and it was his purpose, having made his offering there, to journey into the wilderness and in solitude, prayer and fasting, await the coming of the Messiah.

Then Jesus spoke of the three days he had passed in the company of the hermit, that man of mystery who lived in the cave on the mountains.

"Strange indeed is thy story," said Bethuel, "strange that the Holy One should harbour thee for three days."

"And why is this so?" asked Jesus.

Bethuel answered: "He will suffer no disciple to be with him in this time of preparation. Know that great is his fame in the country round about. For he is pure and without sin, and many call him' the hope of Israel'. Verily I am his disciple."

"His name?" enquired Jesus.

"He is John, son of Zacharias, the priest; and lo, at his birth there were signs and wonders and it was known in the hilly country that a Great One had come into the world. Indeed it is so, for from his youth up he has been spotless, not tempted as other men, always abiding apart in that purity. Some say he is Elias come again. And after the time of preparation we, who are his disciples, will gather round him and then he shall reveal himself to the people."

"Whom sayest thou he is?" asked Jesus.

"Ah, that is my secret," said Bethuel, and then after a silence he continued: "Young man, I know not thy name or thy tribe. But if thou wilt promise to keep secret what I tell thee I shall declare who John is, or will be, in the days to come."

And Jesus promised that until John revealed himself he would keep faith on this matter. So Bethuel answered his question, saying:

"Verily, it is my certain belief and hope that John is the Messiah.

"And what hath led thee to such knowledge?" enquired Jesus.

His powerful spirit and his purity of life, the promise given at his birth, and because the time and the season are at hand when the Comforter shall come and redeem Israel."

After this saying Jesus did not speak for a while&emdash;brooding as some eagle that is perched upon a rock on a cliff and gazes from heights into depths, spanning the world with a glance.

"From whence comest thou and where dwell thy kindred?" Bethuel asked and repeated this saying three times before Jesus roused himself from reverie and answered:

"I am of Nazareth. My mother dwells in Nazareth and I go to her now."

"No good thing comes out of Nazareth," said Bethuel, and his countenance darkened; his face was shadowed because he walked with a Nazarite.

Jesus smiled, making answer: "The Spirit bloweth where it listeth, and good is not bound by region, place or race. Behold, my mother is of Nazareth, and hers is a goodness that sets her high among women; yea, and there are other folk in Nazareth whose righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the elders in Jerusalem, of men of great repute and learning. The Nazarites are husbandmen and simple people. Verily, blessed are the meek and the lowly, for they shall inherit the earth."

But Bethuel was greatly cast about, for he deemed that he walked with a sinner in being in the company of this Nazarite. Wherefore, in a little while, he said that he would go apart and pray. And when Jesus offered to pray with him, this holy man answered that he did not pray in the company of a Nazarite.

So Jesus said: "God be with thy prayers, brother," and went onwards alone.

In those lands the traveller rests and sleeps during the heat of noon. At sunset or after, if he is without possessions and therefore not fearful of thieves, he continues his journey.

When the moon had risen Jesus rose out of a sweet sleep and travelled onwards through the silver night.

After a while he came upon a man and a woman who followed his road. The man walked five cubits ahead of the woman and carried a light wallet, while she bore an infant and toiled behind him, stumbling now and then beneath its weight.

They were dark-browed folk who came from the borders of the desert. And Jesus spoke to the one the woman called Isaac, but he replied with sour looks. Hearing the crying of the child, the young Galilean halted and waited for the man's wife who now was a number of cubits behind them, bent with weariness, her head cast down. Then Jesus spoke courteously, persuading her to surrender the child to him; and he smiled upon the boy, who ceased crying and was instantly comforted.

Together now these two went forward, following the man. Jesus gave her to drink as they walked, and she was refreshed and told her story.

Since their marriage Isaac had worked on a parcel of land on the edge of the wilderness, and for them all times were lean times. But one day a band of desert robbers came and in wantonness burned their hut and stole their scanty possessions. Then because the earth was dry and parched, Isaac said he would no longer labour and starve, he would go up to the City of the Great King where there was, he had been told, plenty for all.

And Jesus sighed, saying: "I have been in the City of the Great King, and hunger is there, and the lean times are there also. 'Twere better if ye came with me to the green quiet of Galilee which uplifts the heart. Nay more, its earth gives forth abundantly&emdash;wheat, olives and wine; and there your husband will find work, food and gladness for yourself and for your child."

Pleasantly these two conversed as they walked, and, talking of the child, this dark girl of the desert-borders found that the road sped beneath her feet. Yet an hour before she had been spent and overcome with the weariness of the journey.

Of a sudden her husband halted, turned back and commanded the stranger to lay down his child. Jesus obeyed him but said: "Suffer me to carry the babe inasmuch as his mother hath not the strength to bear such a burden at the end of the day."

Then Isaac called his wife a wanton and smote Jesus upon his left cheek felling him to the earth. And the woman cried out piteously and withdrew in fear lest her husband should strike her also, for his face was as that of a wild beast, so fierce was his fury.

But Jesus rose to his feet and coming between the man and woman said: "Brother, here is my right cheek. Smite it as thou hast smitten the left and thus thou mayest win thy peace."

And the man cried out: "Thou art a craven and a coward as well as one who beguiles women."

"Nay," answered Jesus, "I but carried your burden following the command of the Spirit which saith, 'bear ye one another's burdens'. Verily, brother, tell me is it easier for me to smite thee who art a man stricken in years and weaker than I, or is it easier that I should suffer thee to strike me again and yet again?" Blood fell from a rent in his mouth and cheek as he spoke, fastening his gaze upon this man. So commanding, so fearless was that gaze, this wild creature fell back astonished and perplexed. But in a little while his wrath went from him, for now he knew that he was in the presence of purity and truth, and he said:

"Sir, thou has the appearance of a beggar, but thou hast the mien of a warrior and a nobleman. Wherefore I ask your pardon for this violence, if pardon can be given for such an offence."

Then Jesus smiled and granted it on the condition that the man would permit him to continue to carry his son for him on their journey. And though Isaac Eked not that he should do this thing he consented, inasmuch as it was not easy to refuse Jesus any request in those days of his youth when he smiled and was gay of heart.

Together they travelled the road, and that night they sought shelter in the same stable. Then, on the morrow, good comrades, they continued on their way, Jesus still carrying the child and listening to Isaac's eager talk. He told the young Galilean that, in early childhood, he had been beaten and starved, that he had gone hungry all his life. On the borders of the Dead Sea the parched earth yielded him and his kind such small measure that, for all their husbandry, they always lived in fear of dearth and the morrow.

"Again and again when we had laid by a little store of food, wandering bands of thieves robbed us of it. So I have no trust in any man, for all come but to plunder. Wherefore, I seek to strike first, knowing that only thus may I guard what little is mine. I treated thee with rudeness, misjudging as I did thine intent in bearing the child of my wife."

Jesus reasoned with this man. But he remained stubborn in his belief that he should give blow for blow. Then he came to speak of his dream.

"At Jerusalem there is plenty for all. In this great city I shall find work, bread, yea and maybe treasure. For I am not one to idle. I can work all the day even into the night."

Jesus made answer: "There are many like you in Jerusalem. Yea, they work all the day and receive at the end only a pittance that scarcely buys bread for them and for their children. Come with me to Galilee, come to the great green plain of Esdraelon where the labourer receives fair measure and corn grows in abundance. Or go further still to the land of the vines and the olives in northern Galilee. There, too, thou wilt find not treasure of gold but gladness and all thy needs supplied."

But Isaac would not yield, though his wife besought him to follow the stranger's counsel. Howbeit, the gold of the Great City was ever in the mind of this ignorant husbandman, and, coveting it, at the turn of the road where one way led to Jerusalem, he bade Jesus farewell, taking the child from his arms.

Jesus was troubled in spirit, for he saw about these twain the cloud of a dark and sorrowful destiny.

The woman would not go till he had blessed her, for she said: "The word of a good man endures, and we shall need it in the coming time." She was cast down at this parting and vexed that she might not go into Galilee, but must follow her husband.

Raising his hand, Jesus said: "Sister, the peace that the world cannot give, be with you always, even unto the end."

Then the woman went after the man, saying no more, her heart too full for speech.

Standing on the brow of the hill, Jesus perceived as they pursued their journey along the valley road, that, this time the man carried the child.

That darkness about them seen by the spirit of Jesus was a true sign of what came afterwards. There was not room for a husbandman like Isaac in Jerusalem. No one would hire him, and he and his wife fell into great need. First the child sickened and died. Then slowly the mother perished for lack of bread. But even in the agony of those last days passed in the great loneliness of that crowded city, she was at peace&emdash;the Stranger's Peace remaining with her even unto the end.

CHAPTER IV

IN Nazareth it was said that Joseph's household prospered and stood well in the world. This seemed a true saying. Nevertheless, it was Mary's gracious charity and the gifts of her heart to the sorrowful, and not the signs of ease, that led the family of the wanderer, Jesus, to be esteemed by the people of the village and the country round about.

Mary never turned a beggar from the door empty handed; and Thomas, her third son, who now was master and bread-winner, often chid her for the largess she gave to the poor. But since Jesus had departed into the desert she had found her peace and joy in such giving. So, customarily, she stinted herself, eating what would scarcely support life, keeping thus the measure over of her share of food for others who were in sore need. And she wove cloth till late at night, then sold it to the hucksters who came from the cities. Thus she gathered a little store of pennies that was her own, but from which she swiftly parted. For if her daughters did not require it she made her offering in the lean times to the sick, the old and those who were perishing from lack of bread.

Now, in middle age, the women of Galilee wax gross. But because she thus spent herself for others, Mary remained slim of body, the bones showing, and once and again she fainted from the need for nourishment and from the weariness of too great labour. But when again Thomas chid her she made gentle answer:

"We people of Galilee are all one family. These beggars who come to the door are as much my kin as are your cousins. Thou well knowest that thou wouldst aid those of thine own blood if they hungered or went in rags."

"But what we earn should be kept for the needs of the household or laid by in store for lean days," said Thomas.

Mary answered: "Jesus, my beloved, said to me once in a far time, 'Take no thought for the morrow, the morrow will take care of itself. Behold this flower,' he said, and plucked one white blossom from the grass, 'it lives by faith and taketh no heed of the morrow, inasmuch as our Heavenly Father careth for all things under the sun'. I am an ignorant woman, and at times, I have no understanding of the words and ways of Jesus. But these sayings of his, which I have reported, are true and lovely and always I keep them in my heart…. We are all one family, members of one another'," repeated Mary, and sighing, ceased.

Then Thomas was vexed and speaking out of his jealousy he said: "My father hath been sick these four years, and he will not rise up again from his bed because his side, his arm and leg are dead. But all this time I have failed thee not, neither did James. We worked as carpenters and did not let our father's commerce go from the household. We have kept our parents and our sisters, and Jesus departed from among us&emdash;giving no share to the household. Yet thou dost set up as first in thy heart this vagabond, this deserter of his home and family."

Mary's countenance hardened by reason of her trouble at these signs of jealousy, and she answered:

"Behold, Joseph's commerce was fair and flourished. So it was no hardship for thee and James to continue it. But thou didst drive Jesus from the house. Dost thou not remember thy words to thy father? 'Choose between me and Jesus. I will go hence even unto Tiberias if Jesus remains'. Wherefore, because he would not vex a sick man by compelling him to choose between his two sons, Jesus went from us. And as he had roused the anger of the Scribe of Nazareth and others of repute he departed from Galilee. He would not be the cause for our censure among the neighbors.

Verily, Thomas, my eldest son is strange and beyond our understanding in the things he utters, but in this matter he was just and acted in all fairness towards his family."

"But thou lovest him best. And I, the son who Works for thee, takes only the second place in thy heart," came the young carpenter's wrathful answer.

"Thou art dear to me, Thomas, and I respect and love thee as a good son. But I cannot change the courses of the wind, neither can I change the love that is of the spirit," Mary strangely said, then held her peace.

Though Thomas spoke angry words he could not draw any further answer from his mother. Neither time nor the absence of Jesus brought him contentment and forgetfulness. Secretly he nourished resentment, and like an ill weed it grew apace. Nevertheless, as his eldest brother did not return, he must needs expend his bitterness on some other, and he chose his brother Seth, scourging him with his tongue, finding fault with his work.

Now Seth was a lad who had seen only sixteen summers, and he was somewhat in the likeness of Jesus. Wherefore, his face calling the wanderer to remembrance, he received the share of unjust speech that would have been given to Jesus if he had been there.

In this matter Thomas was incited by his wife Sarah, whom he obeyed in all his dealings with his family. She was an idle woman, and therefore a maker of mischief, and at times as a snake in the grass that strikes secretly and with cruelty. By much talk and through complaints she compelled Thomas to buy a large house and a garden, and it was always her desire to five well. So she made her sisters-in-law serve her; and however hard her husband worked he remained in debt to a friend.

Now Thomas had a kindliness of heart that would have given gladness to all his household if it had not been for the worldliness and covetousness of his wife.

So this woman led Seth to seek comfort outside his home. And one day he came to his brother and told him that he was betrothed to a girl named Ruth, the daughter of a poor widow. Then Thomas cried out upon him and told him that he was bound as an apprentice and might not marry until the two years of his service were accomplished. "Also thou art too young to marry, and we are in debt. Wherefore we may not increase the number in the household."

Seth answered: "I am as tall as a man, and therefore a man's right is mine. I shall marry if my mother and father give me their blessing."

Whereupon Thomas went to Joseph and persuaded the sick man to withhold his blessing from Seth. But Mary said: "I cannot withhold my blessing from the lad. For then he will go from us in bitterness, and the world is a hard place for the youth who enters it in bitterness and without the goodwill of those who love him."

She remembered that Thomas had caused Jesus to depart from their household, and she would not have another son lost to her as Jesus had been lost those several seasons. So one evening she reasoned with Seth, and he promised to wait three months. But in spite of her entreaties he would not consent to wait for the two years that were his brother's due while he served as his apprentice in the workshop.

Thus, after a time of happiness, care once more was woven into the very warp and woof of Mary's life. For, as the days went by, Seth declared that he would go from them, and nothing would turn him from his purpose, that of marrying Ruth.

Mary knew that the lad could not earn what would suffice for a family, and she was afraid for him and had, therefore, neither rest nor peace of mind in that time Jesus travelled slowly from the desert and across Judaea towards Galilee.

CHAPTER V

THE mountains were crowned with a wreath of gold and the colors of the sunset lay upon all the hills and valleys of Galilee. In this glory Jesus came home to Nazareth.

A hundred cubits from the first house of the village he perceived upon the road before him a woman carrying a pitcher. Now it was ever his custom to be courteous to the old and to women, so he halted beside her and offered to carry her load. She raised her head and smiled up at the traveller. The smile swiftly changed to tears, then to laughter and to tears again as Jesus put his arms about her and held her to him crying: "Mother, mother, I am come home to thee&emdash;home."

When they had mastered their wondrous delight in each other, they went into a field and sat beneath a plane tree. There they talked, and Mary's voice was as the murmuring of birds at the end of day. Its melody pierced even into the depths of her son's soul&emdash;so great was its gladness, so sure the heart-ease that it told of in its sounds.

"I knew thee by thy speech, Jesus," she said, "but I knew not thy face, for verily thou art changed and hath grown from youth to manhood since thou didst go from us and from Nazareth."

And it was so. For the face of Jesus was darker in hue than the bark of an oak&emdash;burnt by the light of the desert suns. Now he was&emdash;though of no great height&emdash;a man in build, in his manner; and there was authority in the glance of his eye. So Mary was proud as never before that she had borne this son. They were one in that hour between sunset and moonrise. In the after-time, speaking of this meeting, Jesus said to his disciple John:

"It was peradventure the most joyful hour in all my life. We two were verily one in that time, with neither kith nor kin nor the cares of this world between us, spoiling and marring our delight."

But to all things, a passing, a fading. No hour, however lovely, might remain even with this Mother and her son. When the moon rode clear above the hills Mary spoke no more of what alone lay between them.

After a silence she told of the happenings of each season. How Joseph still lay sick and no physician could cure him, of James who had departed for Jerusalem. For now that he was a man he desired, before all else, to live beneath the shadow of the Temple. And she spoke of Thomas, of Seth and the quarrel between the brothers, of Sarah who compelled his sisters to serve her. All these things she imparted to her first-born, and when she had finished he gave of his own wise counsel concerning them.

He promised his mother he would seek to win Seth and would strive to find some way whereby peace might be brought to that household and the brothers led to be of the same mind and heart once more.

"But Thomas may not welcome thee, and he is stubborn, so I cannot tell whether he will suffer thee to remain in Nazareth," cried Mary, and she told of those words spoken by him concerning Jesus and of the old remembrance of those days when the people of Nazareth were turned against him.

"Remembrance perishes as last year's leaves," said Jesus. "Be not troubled about the neighbors. And as to Thomas I will walk warily with him. I come, mother, in peace. My time is not yet. So I shall not suffer the head of jealousy to be raised like a serpent in our home."

With these words Mary was well content. And it seemed that they would be fulfilled. For so merry was Jesus in his greeting to Sarah at their meeting that she spoke well of him to Thomas. Wherefore, glad that his wife was of a peaceful mind, Thomas welcomed Jesus to his house.

Thus for the first days of his stay in Nazareth the presence of Mary's eldest son brought joy where there had been bitterness, and even Seth and Thomas spoke kindly words to one another; inasmuch as Jesus compelled them. Also he offered to be last in the carpenter's shop, to serve in it without reward. And as at that time Thomas had a press of work and cared not to hire labour, he was glad and even proud that the elder brother should serve him thus with a courteous humbleness that seemed strange to this young carpenter.

Jesus was forebearing in all things. Only when alone with Mary did he show his love for her. He did not contend for the first place at the board, the right of the first-born, he took the lower seat, thus declaring, without uttering any words, Thomas's title of master of the house.

So in time each member of that family brought their troubles, their secret vexations, to Jesus. To each he listened patiently. To certain of them he gave counsel. But he forebore from counsel when Thomas spoke in heat of Seth and told of his revolt against his authority. Jesus knew that no words are of avail in such a case with a man of choler and of pride.

But when Seth came to him and said, "Now that thou art here for my mother's comfort I may go hence and seek Ruth in marriage," Jesus made him declare the whole matter, and at the end made answer:

"Thy word remains thy bond. Thou hast promised thy service to Thomas for two years more. Is it not an ill thing to break an oath though it was given in ignorance?"

"But my mother, to whom this promise was made, has released me from it," answered Seth.

"It was also made to Thomas, inasmuch as he had charge of the household and the workshop. So it seems that thou art not loosed from thy bond though my mother has given thee thy freedom."

Then Seth was vexed and cried out, "Bond or no bond I cannot any longer contain myself. For Ruth is my comfort and my delight. I cannot wait two years for her."

Jesus reasoned with the boy, saying when no argument would persuade him, "But, Seth, perfect love casteth out desire. Thou mayest seek the company of thy beloved in the morning and in the evening. And if thou dost truly love her thou wilt forebear until such time as thou art free to cleave to her as a man to his wife."

Seth frowned and walked restlessly to and fro. "Nay, nay, I will not be gainsaid by thee. I shall wait no longer, I shall go to my love and no longer deny myself of what is a man's due and his birthright&emdash;that he shall have his household and rule over a woman."

Jesus made signs upon the ground with his stick, then sighing, said: "There are certain men who have more desire unto women than to land or to any goodly thing whatsoever under the sun. For the sake of their desire they will rob, sail upon the seas, break their bond, look upon a lion and go into darkness. But in acting thus a man showeth neither respect for a woman's dignity nor her honour. In honouring himself he honours his wife. It is well to distinguish between these two things, love and desire. Desire perishes; but love is faithful unto the end." And Jesus smiled and said, "Verily, verily, perfect love casteth out desire."

Then Seth became very thoughtful. In the following days he considered this thing well and perceived that numbers of women, old and young, came to Jesus and talked with him. To all he was the same, dealing out to each a gentle courtesy, laughing and singing with some, sorrowing with others, giving good counsel to those in need either of the spirit or the body. Seth also perceived that women did not trouble Jesus as they troubled other men with their looks or their fleshly appearance. Neither did he, as was the way with many proud elders, speak of women with contempt as being lower than men, no better than the meanest slaves. To all women he was a good comrade and showed his love for them, but in no case even when one or two sought to tempt him, did he show any desire.

So after six days Seth said to his brother: "I have watched thy comings in and goings out. I have perceived thy strength and now I know that love and desire are two different things, though the one may enhance the other. Wherefore I am determined to abide by thy sayings. I shall serve Thomas to the full measure of the bond. Only when I am free of it shall I seek out Ruth, and thus I shall honour my wife as she should be honoured. But watch me, brother, and pray that my strength shall not fail."

And Jesus bade Seth tell his mother of this covenant with himself. On hearing of it Mary overflowed with gladness and told Thomas of the good deed wrought by Jesus. So for a while joy and peace reigned in that household.

But Sarah was a woman who took pleasure in battle and in setting one member of a family against another. So she spoke against Seth to Thomas and declared that he had treated her despitefully. She whispered dark sayings about him and Ruth because these two met after the day's work, seeking each other's company in all innocence.

Incited by his wife, Thomas spoke hardly to his brother and set him heavy tasks. Yet, because of the example of Jesus, the lad bore well such ill-treatment. But when one day in the heat of noon before them all, Thomas called Seth a liar and a fool, the boy cried out saying:

"I will not remain in this house, I will no longer be thy bondman, such words break our bond." Then, because his anger was too great for further speech, he fled weeping from the workshop to a grove of olives.

And Jesus remained behind face to face with Thomas. His mother was also there. Troubled by her stricken face he turned to the master-carpenter saying

"Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause is in danger of the Judgment. But whosoever calleth his brother a fool is in danger of hell fire."

Then Thomas became the more wrathful and cried, "I am master here. If thou, Jesus, who art last in this workshop, doth set thyself up against me thus, I shall not suffer thee to remain with us. Be silent and attend to thy work or go, and this time return not again."

And Jesus answered him saying: "In thus deriding thy brother thou hast wrought an ill thing. For he may in his bitterness of heart go from among us and thus break his bond with thee, or else he will show his resentment openly and secretly and fail thee in his work. Know that a kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation. A house divided against a house falleth…. Brother," here Jesus held out his hand and smiled, "put rancour from thy heart. Go, seek out Seth and ask his forgiveness. Then shall we, as brethren, dwell together in unity."

But Thomas would not take the hand of Jesus; and without making any answer he went straightway from the workshop to the olive grove. There he found Seth and asked his pardon. So these two became reconciled and good friends. But Thomas was a proud man and could not forget the shame he had suffered through being rebuked by his brother in the presence of his mother, Juda and a hired man.

In those days a radiance seemed to come out of Jesus that could not be denied, that gave courage and laughter to all about him as he worked. It might well have been that resentment would in time have dried up like drops of water beneath the sun's parching rays, if it had not been for Sarah, who now in her idleness hatched other mischief. She loved power and desired to make a captive of Jesus. So she was vexed in spirit when, each evening, after the day's work, he did not seek out her company but went into a field on the slope of a hill behind Nazareth. A number of women came there, some leading their children to him. He would cause them all to sit down in a circle like one great family. Certain of them asked for his counsel concerning their children, spoke of their naughtiness or their sickness, of the many perplexities these roused in their minds. And to each mother Jesus spoke a few words. They were treasured for they were like the kernel of a nut, the very pith and heart of every small trouble being contained in such grave sentences.

Afterwards Jesus played with the children and in parables related to the women some of the wonders of the great world of God. He made a story of the fife of the seed, of the stem that sprang from it, the leaves, the blossom and the flower. He told tales of the robbers of the desert, of the wild deeds committed by the wandering tribes; then he would come again to Galilee and relate stories of the guiding stars, of shepherds who strove with the wolves and died for their sheep. And many a gracious chronicle he span for them concerning the birds, the beasts and men and women, kings and princes. But within each history always there was some truth that caused his listeners to become thoughtful and to talk afterwards about it among themselves, saying: "Its meaning is this or that," and, "Verily, it showeth of what we are made and declares the gracious mercy of the One God."

Now the fame of these evenings reached even to other places, and women of all kinds but especially the needy and sorrowful, those of no account, came to them to receive a measure of courage for the hard journey down the years.

But Sarah's first liking of Jesus had turned to jealousy and hatred. So she drew her husband apart and said to him: "Behold, women of ill fame and women of no account come in the evening and talk with Jesus; and much scandal may be caused thereby. Then your trade will suffer and the people of repute, who are now our friends, will give us cold glances and withdraw from our company."

So Thomas told his mother of these gatherings and declared that he would compel Jesus to leave their home if he continued thus to be a cause for scandal in Nazareth.

Fearing to lose her beloved, Mary spoke to him coldly, not measuring the hurt of her words, asking that he should no more gather the women about him but seek only the young men of his own age.

"The children beg for bread," was his answer. "I may not withhold it from them."

Then Mary wept, and Jesus was troubled in spirit, knowing the good work he wrought among these folk, and vexed because what had been a lovely and innocent intercourse had been soiled and made a thing of nought.

Howsoever, because of his mother's tears he surrendered to her demand and passed no more evenings on the slope of the hill telling wise tales and fables to the women and children. But he divined that behind his mother's request was Sarah's malicious spirit. Wherefore his speech with her was "yea" and "nay," and he would remove himself from her presence, living little in the house in the evening, walking the hills alone.

So Sarah spoke again to Thomas and said, "Jesus is unskilled. He should, therefore, work longer hours in order that he gives his full share to the house." And she said this also to Juda, the silent brother, who loved Thomas and was a skilful carpenter.

Thus it came to pass that Thomas would not let Jesus go when the others in the workshop laid down their tools. He set him tasks he must accomplish after sunset by the light of the lamp by which Mary worked. For his mother's sake Jesus submitted himself to his brother's hard rule and was glad even of such labour when he might work in her company.

So Sarah perceived that she had failed to trouble the peace of Jesus; that he remained serene, treating her with courtesy but still holding to his speech of "yea" and "nay" when she would talk with him.

Then she was indeed vexed and sought to strike through his mother; she assumed authority, and as the wife of the master of the house, commanded Mary to go here and there. Wherefore, Jesus, not liking that she whom he respected and loved should be the young woman's servant, entreated her to take the place that was hers, become the head of that household and, for Sarah's sake, make her take the lower seat.

But Mary feared to be a cause for strife between Thomas and his wife. So she refused her son's request, saying, "All are at peace in our home. Let that peace remain with us. Son, you have said, in past times, that the one who is in authority should serve. As the mother of Thomas I am by right first in the family. But to preserve his happiness I choose the second place and grant to Sarah the authority."

Then Jesus said no more, but he was provoked in spirit. So on the Sabbath he climbed to the summit of Mount Tabor. There he remained until evening praying and seeking communion with his Father. And when he descended the hill near Nazareth in the darkness of a sudden great storm, his head and his body gave forth light. Encountering him, Mary Clopas withdrew from his path and fell upon her knees crying softly:

"Thou hast seen God."

CHAPTER VI

NOW, on the third day of the week, a rich merchant came to the workshop and asked that he might speak with Jesus. Because of his repute Thomas bowed down before him, for here came one who might command his work in another season.

He bade Jesus remove his ragged coat and put on the fine apparel that he wore on feast days when he took his place among men as master-carpenter.

But Jesus answered: "Nay, nay, it is what is within and not what is without that shall reveal the worth and value of any man." On this saying he went out of the workshop and greeted the merchant who desired to walk apart with him.

"Master," said this elder, "one evening I came with my wife and listened to thy sayings when many women were gathered about thee; and in that time I marvelled at the wisdom of thy words. But what appeared of greater import to me was that peace thou didst bestow upon all these women who came to thee with the cares of the world clouding their understanding."

"And what of it?" asked Jesus.

"I would have thee come and dwell in my house at Capernaum. Numbers of men work for me, and I would make thee my overseer. Thus will I, through thy noble peace, cause my workmen to serve me well."

In the after-time Jesus told of this meeting to John, his disciple, and of his first determination that he would not be overseer and set in a place of authority. Then, as the merchant continued speaking, he was tempted for he perceived that, with the price of his hire, he could keep a household and cause Mary and his sisters to live in serenity with him away from Sarah and the evil she contrived. Because the young man remained silent, the merchant told him he would come again for his answer in three weeks from that day. So it was agreed; and then scarcely heeding the request of Thomas that he should sit at meat at his board, this man of authority went down the road, journeying back to Capernaum.

Now because of the many hours of work set him in that season of his life, Jesus had little time when he might be alone and seek refreshment for his spirit. What time there was he shared with Mary and Joseph.

Always there had been a gulf fixed between him and the carpenter. Joseph was a good man, but in his heart he feared Jesus inasmuch as he had so often in his youth roused the anger of the neighbors by reason of his strange sayings. But now Jesus sat beside his bed and seemed to the old man to be a changed being. Few words were spoken by him; but he caused the one who was sick to talk of this and that and find pleasure in speech concerning past times.

There came an evening when Joseph told of his secret torment saying: "Night after night my sleep is troubled by the faces and the woe of crucified men. I cannot blot out this trouble and obtain ease in sleep. For these dark witnesses of the night testify to an offence committed by me in a generation of years away." Then he told Jesus of the revolt of Juda against Roman authority in those Galilean hills.

"The flower of our youth sought to cast off Roman rule and redeem Israel in that time," he said. "But Varus came with his legions and slew the young men in these Galilean hills&emdash;scattering their band, which was ill armed and could not contend against the weapons of the soldiers. Many young men were taken and the Centurion came to my workshop and commanded me to make crosses upon which the soldiers would crucify these youths in all their loveliness and strength. My soul was revolted by this command, and if I had had neither wife nor children I would have spurned this order and perished at the hand of the Centurion. He drew his sword and menaced Mary and my babes with it. Better had it been for me if I had suffered him to slay us. But my spirit failed me in that dread hour, and I served the Roman, making crosses upon which hung friends of my youth, Galileans I had known all the years of my life.

"And now, Jesus, as I lie here, the crosses, these men hanging on them, their bloody sweat, pass before my sight. And no prayer of mine delivers me and raises me out of this pit of destruction which I digged for myself in a far day. I may not cry out lest I rouse Mary from her sleep. I must wrestle with this thing alone." In these and other sayings Joseph declared his agony.

And time passed swiftly, softly by, and night's darkness stole into that room.

At last Jesus spoke. His words were gracious in, their healing for the sick man.

"I am comforted," said Joseph when he ceased.

I am easy in my mind. Such ease I have not known for many weeks. But of what avail words of comfort? In the hour thou art not with me these young men will come again and destroy my rest."

Jesus answered: "An evil spirit works this mischief, and he is aided by want of faith, pain and the feebleness of thy body. We must cleanse what is within so that all may be fair without."

Here the speaker stood up and cried: "In the Name of God, Our Father, I conjure this evil spirit to come out of thee. In the Name of God, Our Father, I command him to go hence and no more return."

In another and earlier time Joseph would have rebuked the young man for uttering the Great Name. But now it fell upon his hearing like the blast of a trumpet. He quaked in all his limbs. Then, after a little while, that trembling ceased; the dead limb that had been given life by it, lost life again, and the old man lay still.

Jesus fastened his eyes upon him, and he was with power. Joseph sighed and fell asleep, sleeping sweetly till morning. And when the healer came to him after Mary had risen and gone to prepare the meal Joseph was glad.

"I saw naught," he said.

"Our crucified brothers are at rest," answered Jesus, "and the evil spirit who conjured up their images is gone also from this room and from this house."

On the two evenings that followed the first evening when Jesus spoke the Great Name and bound the room fast, the evil spirit did not enter it any more; and in a little while from remembrance, Jesus blotted out for Joseph the agony that had risen from the grave of youth and had gathered about old age and infirmity.

Mary was greatly uplifted when she learned of the sleep without fear that had come to Joseph through her son. So Jesus spoke to her of the work the merchant had offered him. He told of his will that Mary, his sisters and Joseph should come and live with him at Capernaum. But when he had made an end of the telling, Mary became dark in herself and sorrowfully answered:

"Son, it may not be. Oft-times I have dreamed that I should live in thy house, and great to me was the Joy of that dream. But it may not be."

And Jesus was vexed in spirit, for he had set his heart on this thing. Nevertheless he contained himself and asked, "Why may I not give comfort to my mother and my sisters? Why may I not, now I have worked this good deed for Joseph, deliver ye all from this woman Sarah?"

Mary made swift answer: "Son Jesus, I am weary. I am not, at my age, able for the conflict that would arise through the break up of the household. The sparrow and the eagle may not nest together. Even if thou dost Persuade Joseph through thy power to go with thee, he will be sorrowful and ill-content, living in thy house. For Thomas is as the apple of thy father's eye. Those who are kindred spirits may not be separated from one another. Joseph's only joy is the good and seemly work wrought by the master-craftsman who is indeed in his own image. Nay, son Jesus," she cried and laid her hand upon his cheek with gentleness when he would protest. "Surely thou knowest that thou art not as other men. As overseer in this merchant's counting-house thou art in bonds to another. He win tell thee to go here and there, to wrest the pennies from the poor, and thou wilt refuse to obey him. Verily, thou art not born to serve merchants; and in a little while, thou wilt not be overseer but cast out from the counting house, and a wanderer once more."

Now Mary spoke wise and true words. But loving her deeply Jesus would not yet yield and said: "If I lose my hire in this counting house I can work as a labourer in the olive groves."

"But such hire will not suffice for a household, and the comforts needed by a sick man," cried Mary.

"Take no thought mother, for the morrow," was her son's answer. "Behold the flowers of the field. Our Heavenly Father careth for them. Neither do they toil nor spin. Wherefore then dost thou doubt me and my Father? Oh, woman, thou art indeed of little faith."

And Mary said she would seek the counsel of her sister-in-law, Mary Clopas. But she, too, was of the same mind.

Perceiving that naught would change his mother in her will to remain at Nazareth, Jesus told the merchant that he would not serve as his overseer. For a while he was cast down, hurt in his heart, because these two women were without faith.

Of all these things he spoke to John, his disciple at a later time. For John loved Mary, the mother of Jesus, and had asked him why he would not dwell, at her demand, in her house.

But from that hour he knew that he was not as other men. Not for him a life passed among his brethren.

For a time because of his love for his mother he had believed he might be a father to his sisters and to her a staff and support in old age.

In the days that followed the rejection of that belief he spoke little and was gathered into himself.

CHAPTER VII

JESUS would no longer remain as a bondman in the house of his younger brother, so he hired himself to Eldad, whose wife, Esther, had been one of the circle that had gathered about him in the evening on the slope of the hill. Eldad owned many fields, and the wheat was now ripe for the harvest.

Soon after sunrise on a day of heat Jesus told his mother of this thing. Almost she fainted away, and he could give her no comfort. For when she came to herself she held him to her crying with a hard grief that she could not let him go from her.

In the evening Thomas, who was at heart a good man, put jealousy from him and asked Jesus to remain a member of the household. He promised him the hours of freedom that he had been denied. But still Jesus would not yield. Later, when Mary had rested and might speak without tears, she prayed him to tell her his reasons for this third departure from his home.

"Mother, it is for the lengthening of thy tranquility I go hence. When I am not here ease will come to thee. I fear not those who hurt the body; I fear those who make an assault upon the soul. While I am in this house Sarah will torment thee and seek thy dishonour. And when thou art persecuted by this woman anger is mine, darkness gathereth about my understanding. We, two, may not dwell together. Verity thou hast chosen that this should be so."

Mary could not deny these words. Knowing in her heart that the light that Gabriel had once bestowed in an early time was going from her, leaving behind only the common day, she was resigned and rose up and blessed her son, praying that the King of Heaven should have him in His keeping.

Thus these two parted, and in the early morning of the next day Jesus cut blades of corn with a sickle on a hill that was one hour's journey from Nazareth. At night he slept in a barn in the company of other labourers. And though the toil was heavy, Jesus suffered no hardship, for in spirit he was glad.

At nightfall he found his freedom. He no longer heard Sarah's brawling voice or his sisters' plaints when she harried them. He might seek communion at moonrise and sunrise with the angels and his Father, no man or woman hindering him. Only at times he was lonely for his mother. He saw her once in two weeks on the Sabbath day when he went from the highlands to Nazareth. There they would meet and he would see his sisters or Seth, and they talked together, sitting beyond an ancient sycamore that stood in a field a little way from their home. He would not enter that home because of Sarah and what trouble his appearance in it might lay up for Mary and his sisters.

There is an evil which spreads like a plague, corrupting even the innocent. Thus it was that though Mary bore requests from Thomas that Jesus should come and sit at meat with the family, he did not eat of his bread or salt, and remained the stranger to his board, the wanderer from his tribe.

His sisters told him that Sarah now went softly in all that concerned his mother. Thus tranquility came to Mary. But she had lost that radiance and grace of living which only her first-born could bestow upon her and those about him.

CHAPTER VIII

A PHARISEE named Gershon had come to Nazareth from Capernaum. He was a man of learning who fasted in summer, winter, spring and autumn. He was much esteemed for his way of life, his long prayers and his power to cast out devils.

Certain Pharisees declare that there is laughter in Paradise. But Gershon was not one of these. Always he went about making dark faces, frowning and uttering prophecies of evil that was shortly coming to the people. Only when he cast out devils did his countenance change. Then he was with power.

Eldad had a son named Medad who was possessed by a stubborn devil which would not go hence even when, before all the people, Gershon wrestled with it. And Eldad was very sorrowful because his first-born had not the heart of a man but was given the heart of a beast.

He spoke to Jesus of his grief, saying: "I had two sons. One was lovely as Jonathan, but he was smitten by a sore fever and taken from us. O cruel death that plucks the flower and leaves behind the thistle, which is a cause only for pain and bitterness. The Pharisee who abides in the house of the Scribe of Nazareth in these past weeks, has failed to cast out this devil who has for five years possessed my son. Wherefore there is no cure for him in this life, and my wife has passed the age when she may bear children. So I shall go down into the darkness of death leaving behind no heir, no child who will be a good testimony to me in future generations."

To a Jew this indeed was the last bitterness. And moved with compassion Jesus said: "Let me speak with thy son, and peradventure, I may in time compel this demon to come out of him."

Now the young man was not suffered to go among his father's labourers because of the shame that arose through others perceiving his wantonness. So Eldad would not grant the demand made by Jesus, saying:

"There is only one man in Galilee, who through his holiness, has power to heal my son. That man is Gershon, the Pharisee. Wherefore, I shall take Medad with me to Nazareth on this very evening and once more pray the holy man to smite this devil. But come with me so that I may have one I can trust to aid me if Medad foams and raves or makes an assault upon those he may encounter."

By the light of a great moon Jesus went with the father and the possessed son down the hill to Nazareth. This time the Pharisee boasted that he would assuredly triumph over the evil and bring Medad back into his own body.

Certain of the people of the village gathered about them waiting and watching for the miracle. The Pharisee made a fire in that field and cast quicklime about it so that the devil might be driven into the flames and not enter into another, being swiftly consumed. "On the coasts of the Sea of Galilee the devil might be driven into the water where he would drown," said the old Scribe. "But if there be no water at hand fire is the other element that assuredly destroys such beastliness."

Medad made no sound when his father led him before Gershon. He was quiet and like any other man in his demeanour until the Pharisee had uttered a prayer and conjured the devil to come out of him. Then, suddenly, he foamed at the mouth, cursing the holy man, and he snatched a brand from the fire and shouting and laughing thrust it into his face. So wild and menacing was he that three men seized him and flung him to the earth, holding him there.

The Pharisee uttered long prayers over the felled youth. But these, too, were of no avail, the devil still held fast to Medad. And at last the Gershon said to his father: "There is no Pharisee, no man living who can cure thy son."

Then the people groaned, awed by the monster of iniquity that dwelt within the son of this now stricken father who bewailed his destiny and rent his robe.

In a little while when he was calm again, the Pharisee commanded certain strong youths to bind Medad with cords, for this holy man suffered from the burn of the brand thrust in his face and feared lest another assault be made upon him by this devil.

But Jesus came between the youths and Medad and bade them remain where they stood. Then softly he spoke to him saying:

"Arise, brother. The Father is with me, and through His Authority I command the unclean spirit to set free this prisoner and go hence into darkness."

A hush fell upon the little gathering of people. In that silence Medad rose up, and he was as a giant who towered aboved Jesus. But his body trembled like a reed in the wind and tears coursed down his cheeks. With a great sigh be cast himself on the earth at the feet of the Master.

"My deliverer," was his cry, and it smote strangely on the hearing of those who stood by.

It seemed that the cry came out of another life, out of a tomb. It seemed indeed as if one came back from the dead to live in that quivering, tormented flesh. Soon the great body tossed about no more. It stayed quiet as the man raised his eyes to the healer and said: "Who art thou&emdash;a prophet? Is it Elijah who calls me back from the night in which I have been caged these many years?"

"Nay, nay," said Jesus hastily. "Arise, follow me, come home."

Whereupon the young master turned upon his heel, walked swiftly through the circle of murmuring people and turned his face to the hills. And the giant went after that slender shape, his head bent, going like a dog in the track of his owner.

Then the people began to praise God, for they were greatly moved because a Nazarite had healed where a proud Pharisee from Jerusalem had failed to heal.

Now, while in this village Gershon lived with the old Scribe who had been the enemy of Jesus and had persecuted him in the days of his childhood. This same man went on sticks and his soul was as hooped as was his twisted body; and he went to and fro among the simple folk whispering malice, saying: "I remember this Jesus in past years. He broke the Sabbath, ten times, twenty times, he blasphemed wickedly, speaking aloud the Great Name. Many are his offences. Even in these past weeks this Jesus consorted with the robbers who live in the caves of the mountains above the Way of the Sea. It is through his friend and companion Beelzebub he has driven out this demon. 'Ware then of this carpenter's son; 'Ware then of the cloud of evil that enshrouds him. Verily, like a plague, he will invest ye all with his sins."

These and other sayings the old man scattered among the crowd, and he was like a sower who casts thistle-seed and no good grain over the earth. Some of it took root, and in time thrust forth thorns.

All men knew the Pharisee to be devout; and they talked with one another saying: "Gershon fasts in summer, winter, spring and autumn. Jesus does not fast. Gershon's discourses in the synagogue are longer than any that have been spoken within the memory of man."

"And he is," said other simple folk, "therefore, an example of holiness more notable than any heretofore known in Galilee. Only what is good cometh from him."

"So," said the Scribe, "Gershon did not heal, because, where there is an obstinate devil, only another superior devil can be master and drive the beastliness forth."

Scandal travels with sureness from one to another in a little place. In other times the people of Nazareth had lived somewhat gaily and wantonly. They were despised because of their past reputation by the devout Jews of the city. So they had greatly esteemed the honour paid to them by a Pharisee coming from Jerusalem and dwelling in their midst.

According to the belief of the elder folk, it seemed that his very presence there would find them favour with the God of Israel. So, in spite of their wonder at the miracle wrought by Jesus, they hardened their hearts and came to see evil where, in the hour of the healing, they had only seen good.

With the passing of two or three days the mischief increased, and so set did the people become against Jesus, they asked the Pharisee to visit Thomas's household. And while he was in his workshop this man came into the living-room to peep and pry. He would see whether the plates and cups were clean, whether all was kept in a seemly way according to the Law of Moses. Filled with self-righteousness he sought to find cause for offence even among the kin of Jesus. Thus would he be justified before all the people.

During that time the offender cut the wheat and helped to gather it into the barns, his soul serene, his demeanour gay because now he lived in full freedom in a family that esteemed him and loved him for the healing he had wrought, for the grace of his speech, the laughter in his voice, his jests, his songs.

Wherever he went Medad followed him; and soon the stricken first-born who had never worked, laboured side by side with his healer. Soon he cut more blades of corn than any other man in the same day. Soon he talked freely, and at the bidding of Jesus, served his mother, carrying her pitcher, going here and there for her. And he who had answered all with curses now spoke only kindly words. He was like the grain of mustard seed&emdash;in a short while his mind and spirit growing to a good height, giving comfort to his family and to those about him.

CHAPTER IX

THEY beat the grain with flails. The sun laughed down at them; they laughed up at it. They toiled and they sang.

But Eldad came from his house. He bade Jesus lay down his flail, rest and wipe the sweat from his brow. The young man did not question this strange command given in the noon of the day, he obeyed, and for a little while stretched himself out in the cool shadow of the barn.

There were little drops of water on his master's, cheeks. They were not tears of sweat, they were tears of sorrow. Still Jesus did not question, but followed him when again there came the word of command.

Thomas stood in the best room of the house. He wore the good raiment of the prosperous trader while his brother's garments were poor and torn by the thorns of the fields.

The face of the carpenter was angry and he spoke swiftly, "Because of thee, Jesus, the people of Nazareth are turned against me and my household. They say that thou art the servant of the Prince of Darkness."

"Then the children of light have become the children of this world, seeing only evil in a good deed."

"Who art thou to set thyself up against the authority of the Pharisee and the Scribe?" cried Thomas.

And Jesus answered in heat: "Beware of the Scribe and the Pharisee who believe that by long prayers they find favour with God, who in good see only evil. Master," he continued, speaking to Eldad, "is not thy first-born whole? Have I not rendered unto thee the son that was lost?"

"Yea, yea," returned Eldad, "and I know that the demons are as strange to thee as the night is to the day."

Here Thomas took up the word, not suffering the goodman to continue in his speech.

"Brother, I spoke in wrath because I am afraid. Work that should have been given to me has gone to another by reason of thy healing of Medad. The Scribe travels from house to house speaking against the Devil through whom, he says, thou hast cast out a devil. Wherefore, unless thou dost depart from the neighborhood of Nazareth, we are in danger of losing our livelihood. Verily, I am sorrowful because I come to entreat thee to be once more a wanderer. We are in an evil case, so also is Eldad. Young men in Nazareth declare that they will come and bum this house if thou dost not go hence from it. It is not meet that thou shouldst be a cause for destruction and break up this good man's peace."

"And my mother?" asked Jesus.

"She is silent, for she would not bid thee go."

Then Eldad spoke, saying: "I would send a messenger to my brother, the merchant, who lives in Caesarea Philippi. I would have one who is trusty for this purpose inasmuch as he is to be the bearer of a purse of money&emdash;my brother's inheritance. Jesus, wilt thou be my messenger?"

"And abide there?"

"Yea, for a season. He will employ thee in his commerce if thou dost bear word from me."

Jesus bowed his head in assent; he was indeed too stricken for further speech.

And Eldad strove to utter comforting words, saying:

"The Scribe is old and has but a little time before him in which to exercise the malice of his tongue. Soon he will be gathered to his fathers. With his passing remembrance of the scandal will pass as swiftly as a mountain tempest from the face of the sea of Galilee."

"I shall go at sunrise," said Jesus, and then fell into a silence from which Thomas could not rouse him. So, shamed and troubled, the young carpenter took his leave of him and of Eldad, hastening down the hill, looking neither to the right nor to the left in his going.

For great spirits the years of early manhood are often the years of loneliness. Jesus had given of the treasures of his heart to his own people and they had rejected him. So he told Eldad that, in the coming days, he would keep his own counsel, he would not speak to strangers of Nazareth or of his own kin.

"Be not cast down," said this goodman. "All things pass. Evil flourishes only for a season. Thou wilt return in triumph to Nazareth. For thy mother has told me of the Messengers of God who came to her. They declare that thou art set apart for a high purpose."

"That may or may not be," answered Jesus, "but until my Heavenly Father reveals his purpose, I shall not reveal myself to others."

Eldad perceived that Jesus suffered. Deep was the hurt dealt him by the people of Nazareth. The gay singer was gone as the early dew from the flower when the heat of the day is come. And the elder sighed, troubled by the cruelty of time.

CHAPTER X

WHEN morning came and the people of the house had gone into the fields, Eldad gave Jesus a seamless coat which was of such thickness it would withstand the cold of the mountains about Caesarea Philippi. He let Jesus go secretly, for Medad loved him and would assuredly accompany him on his journey if he had knowledge of it.

But before the last words of farewell were spoken, this prosperous husbandman bowed himself down before his servant and entreated him saying:

"Verily, thou art Lord and I am servant."

This was the first time that any elder had asked for the blessing of Jesus, hailing him as master and seer. For a little while the young man remained silent and troubled; then he lifted up his hand and gave the blessing.

It was a day of cloud filled with the menace of rain, and all the people were abroad in the fields or in the barns either gathering the corn or storing up the grain for the winter-time. The road was solitary for a part of the way and Jesus and a young man of the household of Eldad made good speed. They conversed together as they walked, and the youth, who carried in a wallet food for the journey, told his secrets to Jesus, who hearkened and gave counsel. So the day slipped by.

Towards evening the travellers entered the Way of the Sea which is also known as the "Valley of Doves". A mighty mountain rose before them, and within this mountain there were as many caves as cells in a honeycomb. And Amon told Jesus that, at one time, rebels had taken shelter in these caves and had held the valley against an army. But the Romans overcame their defenses, and going up to the mountain's summit, they had loosed down cages filled with soldiers. These men had thrust iron hooks into the caves which dragged forth the rebels. Then they were cast over the edge of the cliff and, falling a thousand cubits, perished miserably in the valley below.

"And now it is a valley of peace," said Jesus, gazing at the doves which circled to and fro round and about them. Their gentle calling in the red light of the dying day, spoke of rest and peaceful sleep for the weary traveller.

A little way beyond the wayfarers where the valley sank below them, they perceived caravans and camels. These carried merchandise and travelled slowly along the road. But suddenly, violently, the peace of that valley was broken by shouts and menaces, by wild men leaping among the rocks who hurled stones and rolled boulders down upon the camels and caravans.

A loud clamour arose, and some of the camels and their riders fled up the road towards Jesus and Amon, while others who drove the caravans flung themselves down before these wild men and were instantly slaughtered.

Amon compelled Jesus to come with him and hide among rocks some distance from the high road. There they remained watching and listening until the clamour and the groans died away into silence. Then in the dark before moonrise, Jesus and Amon whispered together and determined to lie in this place for the night. They opened their wallet, and after partaking of food Jesus said a prayer that calmed his companion's fears, and they laid themselves down to rest. But hour after hour Amon stayed awake, then, falling asleep, he awoke crying and trembling.

Jesus asked what troubled his spirit. And between his times of shuddering the young man said:

"I dreamed the dream of foreknowledge. The robbers who dwell in the mountain caves, came upon me and hung me up above a fire, where I was being slowly roasted and choked to death by the smoke; and the agony of the flame was with me even as I woke in this cold dawn."

Jesus strove to comfort this distraught youth. But he cried: "What I have known in pain and terror in this past night has been the portion of others who were taken by robbers to their dens in the hills. Wherefore my dream is a warning, and if I would escape the torment of the slow fire I must fly before sunrise from this accursed valley."

Snatching up the wallet, Amon went stumbling down between the rocks with Jesus following and calling softly to him. But he would not be stayed by any kindly voice or brave words. The last his companion saw of him was a flitting shadow in the light of the waning moon hastening up the road to the west and towards home.

It was not far from day, and Jesus waited patiently for the change and brightness of the dawn. When at last it came he found a little pool made by the rains in a cup of rock, and he drank from it. Then, fastening his sandals, he rose up and continued his journey along the valley. It was quiet now and seemingly deserted of all save those messengers of peace&emdash;the white doves.

These again flew to and fro and were indeed like a token of the Holy Spirit's presence in the stillness of that early day when all men rest in the blindness of steep.

But the robbers had left behind a watcher who stood at the neck or narrow part of the defile. And of a sudden he came upon Jesus with menaces crying:

Who art thou, dog, and where goest thou?"

Jesus halted, and neither trembling nor flinching, said

"I am a landless and a homeless man."

"Nay, that is a lie. Thy fine coat betrays thee. Thou art one of the rich men who despoil and oppress the poor." Whereupon he drew his dagger from its sheath.

Jesus laughed at his words. Thrusting back the coat he bared his breast and advanced it towards the blade of the upraised knife saying: "Brother, I have nothing to offer thee of mine own but this fine coat and my life. Verily, thou art welcome to my life if it will ease thy wrath against man and God."

Then the robber peered and gaped at him, for he was astonished at his courage.

But he made answer: "These are a braggart's words. Kneel while I slit thy throat to the ears."

The young Galilean smiled easily and held his ground saying: "My life is of little account when eternal life stretches before me. Truly a man's life may be likened to a dream dreamt at the opening day. For some it is an ill dream, for others pleasing. But to all it is only of value in what they take from it of wisdom and of purity of heart. I am prepared, brother, slay me, and thus, maybe, thou wilt find ease from bitterness."

The robber believed that Jesus made mock of him. Wherefore, liking both the mockery and this dignity in the face of death, he sheathed his dagger and said: "Thou art after mine own heart, fearless as we are fearless, a true comrade. So come with me and break thy fast in the company of my band who dwell in the caves of the crags above, and we will make merry together, drinking the wine from the caravans taken yester-eve on this very road." Jesus must perforce go with him. He had no other choice. They passed by a dead camel, all that remained of yesterday's battle, for the robbers had taken away the slain.

"This part of the valley hath the narrowness of a needle's eye," said the thief. "Wherefore few men escape from us here." And he continued his talk, telling of his wild life and violent deeds.

Remembering his determination to keep his own counsel Jesus remained silent. They went up and around the cliff along a twisting path between scarred boulders that stood like sentinels guarding the caves and the mountain's secrets.

Then, when at last they came into the heart of the hill, it seemed as if the traveller were trapped in a prison he might never leave&emdash;so crooked and so many were the paths that led to it.

They entered a round chamber lit by torches. At first some twenty men gathered like wolves about Jesus giving him fierce glances. But the robber told them that Jesus was of their kind.

"He is an outcast, and such is his courage he is fitted to lead us in our forays, inasmuch as he is not afraid to die."

Jesus remained silent. He was placed beside the chief, a man as great in stature as Goliath. Then all sat down and drank wine and partook of goat's flesh while requiring further tidings of the stranger.

His captor told of his encounter with him and of his strange speech concerning the world beyond the grave. These men who lived dangerously, hearkened eagerly, for they knew not the hour when they might be taken by the soldiers and put to a sorry and tormented death.

"And what will be our portion of eternal life?" they enquired.

"The goodman," answered Jesus, "will dwell with the angels before the throne of God and will walk in His gardens."

"And have plenty and riches beyond measure?" asked a lean sharp-faced man.

"It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God."

Silence followed these words. The thieves gazed at the speaker in astonishment.

Then the first robber cried: "The dead camel… the needle's eye of the valley! Again, friend, thou makest merry," and he broke into loud laughter.

"Nay, thou hast well said," came the chief's words, and thereupon he turned and rebuked the noisy fellow. "Only fools bray at wisdom. Cease thy laughter and be silent if thou hast no understanding of great sayings."

Then he turned to Jesus and questioned him.

"Sir, what will be thy work in the coming days? I would have thee as a comrade sharing our danger and our plunder. Wilt thou be one of us?"

Jesus answered boldly: "I am a healer and not a destroyer."

"Nay, nay," said the chief, "we destroy only to build. We gather treasure so that we may scatter it in the service of the oppressed people of our race. Lo, we of the robber-band were all children of the young men who went into battle against the Romans following the banner of Juda, the Gaulonite. We saw our fathers perishing in torment on crosses. We hearkened in terror to their groans of agony, and afterwards we were outcasts and knew the pains of hunger, cold and nakedness. So those of us who were strong enough to live through such hardships, came together and vowed that we would avenge our fathers, and when the time was ripe, rise in insurrection and deliver Jerusalem of the prophets, out of the hands of the accursed heathen. For this purpose we plunder rich men. And when we have gathered enough treasure we go into the cities in beggars' garments and lay some of it in store in a sure Place against the time of the insurrection. With the rest we buy arms, for we would be better provided than our fathers who had but clubs, sickles and the weapons of the husbandman. Now I would have thee join our band because I perceive thou art a wise man and fearless."

"Wherefore I come to heal and not to destroy," repeated Jesus.

"Then thou wilt not be one of us?"

"I have said."

At these words of Jesus the robbers made an outcry, and it was some little while before the chief could gain a hearing.

"Stranger, thou art a prisoner," he said, "and must remain one of our band else we may be betrayed by thee."

"Of what service is the healer to the destroyer?" Jesus asked.

"How do I know that in speaking of healing thou art but seeking to escape from our service?" said the chief. "But I can measure thee in this matter."

Then he led Jesus into a smaller cave wherein lay a wounded man who had the look of one like to die.

"Behold my brother and my beloved, the one who alone of all my kin has not so far perished in wars and tumults. Now he is in an evil case. "And the man wept; only after a while could he command his voice and speak again.

"Stranger," he said, "I know the signs of death, for I have seen many men die. I know that there is little chance that even a skilled physician can save my brother. If thou, who art a healer, can stay his course into the shadows, then for the priceless boon of his life, I will render to thee thy freedom from my service."

The sick man, who was named Judas, stirred, gazing up at the chief, and there was the terror of death in his eyes. Now Jesus had determined that he would hold himself apart from men and work no more miracles. But he was moved to compassion for one who was afraid to face the last freedom, which is release from the body of dust. So he called for spring water. Then he removed the rags from the wound, washed it and bound it up in a clean linen cloth.

Judas cried and wept and it seemed as if he would pass hence in his agony. Jesus laid hands upon his brow, speaking words of courage. In a little while Judas was comforted, and, sighing, fell asleep.

"In sleep there is resurrection," whispered Jesus.

"Yea, if the deliverer is with the sleeper," murmured the chief, awed by the light that came from the stranger's hands.

They watched all through the night, and towards morning the elder brother believed that the spirit of the younger had fled, so quiet he was, so deep his slumber.

It was the hour of weariness and despair. Courage failed. The chief rose and paced to and fro, muttering and murmuring like a man in a fever. When he would not heed the signs that commanded silence, Jesus went to him and was as a small, slim boy standing beside this giant. He took hold of his arm and with violence thrust him out of the cave, then returned to Judas who had been roused by his brother's speech. The healer's hands passed to and fro above his brow and rested on it once more while he spoke words that called back sleep to the sufferer.

The proud chief, who no man dared constrain in any manner, stretched himself out at the mouth of that cave and lay there like a dog waiting for his master.

It was not until evening that Jesus stumbled over the body that lay across the threshold, rousing up its owner who, in spite of desolate sorrow, had fallen asleep.

Jesus was swooning from weariness and from the loss of that light that had gone out of him into the sick man. Wherefore the chief lifted him up as if he were a child and laid him to rest in his own place. Then he went to his brother, and perceiving the colors of health upon his cheeks, knew that the grave was defeated. Death had passed him by.

A feast was given and the robbers sat again at meat with Jesus. They made merry, glad because of the miracle that had given back life to Judas and a brave spirit to their chief. Then, after they had eaten and were filled, they gathered around the healer and asked him many questions.

He spoke of simple life, telling stories of the husbandmen who gather in the grain, of the mother and wife who cared for the household and of all that round of toil and peaceful living which these men had forsaken or had never known.

Some wept for what they had lost, others boasted of their deeds of blood and spoke of the time when they would gather the people of Galilee together in an army and, marching against the Romans, drive them from the land and thus free the chosen people.

"Then we shall overthrow the rich who oppress the poor," they cried. "We shall cast down the betrayers of our country from their high places and, seizing their possessions, rule in their stead."

"And ye will be rich as they are?" asked Jesus.

"Yea, yea," cried the robbers, "and we shall live gloriously."

"Until the Romans return with another army?" enquired Jesus.

"Yea, and if they do we shall offer battle and once more drive them out of the land of our fathers."

Jesus sighed and made as if he would speak, but he held his peace. Then after much boasting, shouting and singing, some of the robbers went on guard and others slept.

Jesus remained alone with the chief, and after a silence this robber said: "Stranger, thou hast not even told me thy name. Very lovely art thou in my sight, and so I would not let thee depart, I would keep thee to aid us in our work for the delivery of Israel."

And suddenly Jesus answered: "Is it better for me to heal than to destroy?"

Looking at his sleeping brother, the chief said:

Verily, it is better that thou shouldst heal."

"But if I remain with thee I must take up arms. So I shall become a destroyer."

"Yea, all we who are outcasts, are compelled at some time to defend ourselves with arms," said the chief sadly. "For we always live in peril and know not the hour when the enemy will discover us. I cannot offer thee safety, but I can offer thee service for our country and my love."

"I am a man of peace and may best serve my people as the healer and the comforter when my call comes… so let me go."

"Nay, I cannot let thee go."

Then Jesus reminded him of his oath&emdash;that he had sworn to give him freedom from service if he healed his brother. And the chief could not deny the pledge. So, sorrowfully, after much wrestling of spirit, he consented to let the stranger go.

"Promise me one thing," he said, "return again within two years. For if I have not perished I would listen to thy wise sayings and gain comfort from thy counsel."

Jesus promised that some day he would journey back to the Valley of Doves, and if he did not find him there would seek tidings of him elsewhere. They parted good friends. When the chief returned alone to the caves he said to Judas, "I have known many men in my time, but not one of them was like unto this man. Assuredly he is one of the prophets come again."

He is, peradventure, the deliverer named in the Holy Book who will free our people," said Judas.

"Nay, he is a man of peace," answered his brother.

"The deliverer must take up a sword and even as the kings of Israel lead his men into battle."

Afterwards the chief considered these words of Judas and at times pondered over them, then laid them up in store among those memories that, when nourished, bear fruit in due season.

CHAPTER XI

A COUSIN of Eldad lived near the Valley of Doves. Having discovered his hut Jesus presented the old man with a gift from his kinsman, but rejecting his hospitality, set out on the road once more. It was his desire not to converse with others, to hold himself apart, and in the quiet win back communion with his Father. The full freedom of such communion had been lost to him since that ill day when Thomas had pronounced the sentence of banishment.

A youth who sang the song of the fisherman came by. He ceased from singing and gave the greeting of the road to Jesus. No answer was made to this greeting. But the wayfarer was not troubled by what seemed churlishness, and for a while these two walked side by side in silence.

The singer spoke suddenly: "What is thy name and tribe? My name is John." His voice was deep and strong, his body lean and shapely. For an instant Jesus gazed up at him, then he lowered his head and bent his brows upon the road once more.

As if he had answered him John continued: "My father is named Zebedee, and I have also a brother called James. Until yesterday he has been with me every day of my life since I was born. He is dear to me beyond all others of my kin. Some call us 'the two eagles', others 'the sons of thunder'. For we are not easily silenced; and our song, which is loud like thunder and deep as the sea in its sound, is famed among all the fishermen who sail their boats upon the lake of Galilee."

Jesus smiled at this talk, but held his peace.

My father sends me to his kinsfolk with greetings so that he might sever us twain," said John. "He declares that we will never make friends and comrades of men if we, who find all happiness in each other's company, are not thus separated for a time."

Jesus did not lift his head when John halted in his speech; he gave no sign that he had heard his story.

The young man was not daunted. He spoke of his tribe and his home, of his mother who believed that some great destiny lay before her two sons. At this saying he tossed back his head and laughed, and the rocks echoed back that laughter which continued until it seemed as if the very stones shared and returned the joy of this youth, who might have been born at sunrise, so eager was he for life and for the days that lay before him and his brother.

But his companion remained gathered into himself.

Then John told of days passed upon the lake, of the silver and brown fish he caught, of his skill in mending nets, of the storms that sweep down from the mountains and entrap the fishermen. He spoke of shipwrecks on the waters and of the danger of the deep from which God and not his own swimming had delivered him. Many a tale he told of good hours of toil upon that sea, of days when the sun shone and the face of the lake was smooth as glass and labour was sweet in that time when the hours fled away while they watched by the nets or dragged them in and made them yield up their treasure, which was despatched to the towns and sold in their markets. But he declared that his mother erred in her belief of a great destiny for her sons, "Inasmuch as my desire is only to live thus, sailing upon the lake, fishing, toiling at the nets, and in the evening, resting in the company of my brother, holding conversation with him beneath the stars. We are truly content with each other and have no desire or need of any other love or life."

To all these things Jesus made no answer. So John being curious, suddenly asked: "Hast thou bound thyself to silence with an oath?"

Jesus shook his head.

"Then," enquired the young man, "art thou dumb? Why this silence? Lo, when I perceived thee on the road a voice said, 'Open thy heart to this man. Tell him all ever thou didst. Keep nothing back'. And I have obeyed the voice, though in truth there is still much I might tell thee of my joy in the search for, and witness of, bird, beast and flower in my brother's company."

Jesus halted and once again looked at John. He perceived a broad brow, the noble arch of that brow above eyes that were grey and still at times, but in other hours flashed fire like the stars. It was a face that compels love so beautiful was it, so innocent and eager, so wrought in the shapeliness of perfect purity of life and intention.

Jesus might have spoken then. But suddenly there came the cry of a bird, and a young dove dropped at his feet. It had the look of sickness and its wings would not for all its striving, lift it up from the earth. He bent down and gathered it into his bosom, then continued on his way.

That evening these two young men sat down by the roadside and in silence ate bread and drank water from a brook. In silence they lay beneath the shelter of a rock to sleep; no wind breathed upon them, no men or beasts troubled their rest. Thus they remained side by side till morning, and it was John who first woke to the new day.

In the after-time he told the disciples how, in that still hour when he had gazed at Jesus, even his love for his own brother passed from remembrance so strange and so hallowed was the revelation written on the sleeper's face.

But swiftly the fires of the east drove away night and hunted the shadows into the valleys. With life renewed from the wells of sleep all creatures in that country stirred, answering the call of day.

The sun kissed the hills. The distant snowy heights of Hermon glowed in its light. Bird, beast and flower praised God in their own fashion.

Jesus stood up, loosed the dove from the fold of his coat and it flew away into the sunshine. Then he turned, to John and said: "Behold a sign. This bird is freed and whole even as now I am freed and whole; for my Father was with me in the night."

No sound broke the quiet that followed that saying. To John it was as if the door of the skies opened and Paradise came down to earth and dwelled in Galilee. In that hour his spirit knew his Master.

Though words came so easily it was not easy to find them now. But at last John whispered: "Where was, thy father? We had no companion on the road. How did he discover thee in the past night&emdash;a night without stars?"

"To my Father all things are possible."

"All things?" asked John, troubled that he should question one whose radiance made his heart leap within, him.

"Yea, all things," answered Jesus, "not even the dove of yesterday falls to the ground without my Father's knowledge."

"I am an ignorant fellow," cried John in glad humility; "give me understanding, give me light."

Then Jesus spoke at length and said that God was his Father, and it did not seem to his listener that he blasphemed in thus speaking the dread Name of Names. For he told beautifully and tenderly of his communion with God on the lonely hills. His eyes shone as he talked. Never had the fisherman listened to such eloquence. It was as if death were conquered and the secret of eternal life revealed in those burning words.

"To no other would I speak thus," said Jesus, but thou dost compel me. Lo, when we came together along the road I was in darkness, for I had lost the Ineffable One. But thy sayings concerning thy beloved drew me out of the night of doubt and solitude. Thy gracious spirit gave me peace&emdash;that peace which leads me ever to the Father."

Then, suddenly, Jesus halted in his speech and ceased. When he continued he spoke of other matters, of evil and good; he did not tell of his people or of his past life, remaining the nameless stranger.

So these two travellers continued on their way, and John, who now said little, rejoiced the more with paradise still all about them and reigning within his spirit.

"Yesterday it would seem," said Jesus, "that I showed thee grave discourtesy, but it was for thine own sake that I remained dumb and did not accept the offer of gracious friendship."

"For mine own sake?" enquired John.

"Yea, I am homeless and I may not speak of my kin, or my town or tribe," Jesus sighed.

"But what is thy meaning? How is there in this a reason for dumbness and what in truth seemed discourtesy?

"I would not have thee go with me on the road, for I have learned in sorrow that I am come to set at variance a man against his tribe, a son against his father, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. Verily, verily, if thou wouldst come with me it is needful that thou shouldst cast off mother, father and tribe, and lo, in thy talk yesterday thy sayings were all of home. To one who was homeless thy words told of a deep love for thy kin which I would not trouble or change. I would not, therefore, cast my shadow across thy path and bid thee accompany me on my journey."

John was vexed in spirit by these sayings. Indeed it seemed as if paradise faded from the face of the world about him even as a flower fades, withers and passes.

"These are strange words," he said. "My brother, mother and father are dear to me. I would not lose them, nay not for all the world."

"Yea, I deemed it so," answered Jesus. "Was not, therefore, my dumbness kindness, my discourtesy wisdom?"

For a while John pondered. He found no answer to this question until towards evening they halted and sat down to break their fast.

"Sir," he said, "even remembrance of James, my brother, went from me when I listened to thy first greeting. I know not even thy name. Yet I fain would follow thee continuing thus, walking and gathering up thy wise words. So I have found a way. James and I will be thy friends and go where thou goest."

"But what of the lake and of thy home?" asked Jesus. "For it would seem that those who follow me must give up father, mother and kin."

"All these I am ready to put from me, and my brother will go where I go, even as I would follow him if he had found the master and the prophet."

Jesus fastened his gaze upon this eager youth and said: "Nay I know not yet whether I am master or prophet. I have spoken of what should remain secret for a season."

"But not from me," cried John, "for I am drawn to thee even as a bird to the sunlight."

Jesus smiled: "Nay, my Father has not yet revealed to me the meaning of those past days when it seemed that if I would save my life I must lose it&emdash;lose home and brethren. But I know not yet whether what I have said is to be true for me and for thee: that a son shall be at variance against his father, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and a house divided against itself&emdash;and all for the sake of my sayings and the purpose and life that my Heavenly Father, in his own time, win reveal to my understanding."

And Jesus gave thanks for the cheese and bread they had eaten, and the two rested for a while, sleeping until the moon rose.

In the coolness of a clear night they set out on their journey again. For a time John talked of Capernaum which is known as the "Village of Consolation" because it was said that some day a prophet would come to that town. Through his marvellous works its fame would be noised abroad until it was known in all Judaea and even in Egypt. Then John spoke of his pride in Capernaum in which he was born, but confessed that he liked not the presence of so many heathen in it. For Greeks, Romans and men of the east came and went and while they dwelled there, practiced abominations and lived filthily in the sight of the people.

"It would be well indeed," he said, "if they returned to their own countries and left us a town that might then be cleansed and beautiful in the sight of the God of Israel."

"But to the pure all things are pure," answered Jesus.

"Yea," said John. "Howbeit, there are the weaker brethren who are led away and corrupted by them. So my father Zebedee is much concerned at such failing and falling from grace of our own people. But James and I keep ourselves apart from the heathen save when we would barter our fish with them. Yea, and we find our delight on the waters of the lake and in the country round about. Yet we care not for the long discourses of the scribes, and we have no love for fasting and mortification of the spirit. We are light of heart. Why should we lament, be cast down and mourn for the sins of Israel? So at times, our father fears that we do not show zeal in observances and in worship of the Lord. But may we not worship Him even when we walk the hills, even when we sling stones and leap and run and know our strength and joy of living in our bodies while our hearts in silence give thanks to the Ruler of all?"

"Yea," said Jesus, "each man must find his own way home to God. So long as ye love one another and remain pure in heart, remembering your Creator, praising Him in your own fashion, ye do well."

CHAPTER XII

THE corn fields of lower Galilee are a glory to it. In the first season of the year the plain of Esdraelon has the appearance of a wide green sea which delights the eye of the husbandman. But upper Galilee is famed for its vineyards and olive groves.

On the third morning of their journey the travellers lingered among them. For Jesus was reluctant to go forward, to reach the parting of the ways.

"All life is a leave-taking" had been his serene saying to that other John on the barren mountainside. Now, when he uttered it, there was no peace in his voice; his countenance became troubled, his brows drew together, and he added hastily, "the wind is cold. Come let us take shelter over yonder."

When they had settled themselves in the hollow of a hill John said: "Tell me more stories, for I have talked enough."

"But thou art the story-teller and I the listener," answered Jesus.

"Nay, I tell only the chronicle of the passing hour.

"Which pleases my hearing and gives rest to my spirit."

John plucked a blade of grass and showing it to Jesus said: "But thy words make clear, if only for an instant, the mystery beyond mysteries and also even the simpler mystery behind the life of this blade of grass. In every tale of thine I find either a grain of pure truth or some strange loveliness. I entreat thee speak on."

"So be it," answered Jesus, and then he stretched out a hand to the wooded slopes, the withering vines and said: "Out of this land and out of my memories has been growing a tale which I may call 'The Parable of the Warring Kings'. I have lived for two days among violent men who would die for their country's deliverance from the invader, and I have learned from them certain things as we can learn from all manner of men&emdash;publicans, sinners, evil and good women, husbandmen, craftsmen and even little children. But now hearken:

"One king coveted another king's vineyards from which was made a golden wine. So he led his armies against this king but was overthrown in battle. And the people of the vines came into his country and exacted tribute. Also they demanded that this tribute should be paid each year.

"The defeated people starved themselves to meet this demand. And because of their suffering the darkness of hate filled their hearts. They came together plotted, making weapons secretly in the mountain caves. And when they were strong in arms their armies fell upon the Country of the Golden Wine, despoiled its inhabitants, laid waste the vineyards, put young and old to the sword. So each king had gained a victory and in the hour of triumph was puffed up with glory. But their people had lost the rich vineyards and the pleasant olive groves. There was hunger and sorrow in each land for the fallen. The wise men counselled vengeance and watched for the time when their nation might strike again. The mourners cried for vengeance, love was forgotten, the shadow of death lay upon all.

"Out of the east came a stranger, a prophet. And when they questioned him he declared that he came in the name of a great lord bearing his message and that he was his son. The kings gave audience to him each desiring to seek the aid of the great lord and his armies.

"But his son spoke to them strange words, bidding them sheathe their swords: 'He who takes up the sword perishes by the sword. For if he does not die the death his spirit perishes while he dwells in the shadow of death.'

"He bade them look upon their lands and they were barren. Then, in sorrow, these kings remembered the good years of the olive groves and the vineyards, and they repented. Looking upon this desolation they wept and asked what they should do.

"The prophet made answer: 'Anew commandment I give unto you&emdash;that ye love one another'. And these words were strange in the kings' hearing but they agreed to be bound by them. Wherefore the shadow of death was removed, and in a little while there was joy and plenty in that land and the people laughed and were glad.

"So the son of the great lord consented to live in those countries, to give counsel to the kings, and he was called 'The Prince of Peace'.

"Vineyards and olive groves were planted by the husbandmen. With the passing of time the kings built treasuries for silver and gold, also store-houses for the increase of corn, wine and olives. They made waterways, stalls for all manner of cattle, and flocks in fold. In the years of the wars many people had died by famine or by thirst. But now they waxed fat and hunger was not known in that land. Robberies and the days of violence passed from remembrance. All men prospered and all men were content. The peace of Paradise flowed down from heaven to earth."

Now John was all eagerness and delight, and he cried: "Did this peace remain with them always?"

"Time neither stops nor stays," said the parable-maker. "It travels onwards like a swift river. The two kings were gathered to their fathers."

"And then?" enquired John.

"O teller of tales, how wouldst thou end my parable?" laughed Jesus.

"That peace should always remain in the Country of the Olive Groves and in the Land of the Golden Wine," said John.

"But the kings' sons reigned in their stead," repeated Jesus. "They knew not the waste and bitterness of the wars. They had not listened to the mourning of the widows, the lamentation for the fallen. Robberies and the days of violence had passed from memory."

"Yea, that is so," said John, and he pondered for a while, and then said, "I like not to change the loveliness of thy parable. But even as moth and rust corrupt so does time. The young kings hardened their hearts and coveted each others' rich lands."

"Yea," said Jesus, "that is what I have perceived."

"They had metals gathered together and made arms from them. They prepared secretly for war. And when the hour came that they would strike, the Prince of Peace learned of their purpose to break the tenth and last commandment. He came among them, bade then sheathe their swords. In the name of the great lord he told the kings that they must remain at peace with one another."

"So be it," said Jesus.

"Then the last king to whom he declared his wisdom, accused him of treason, but was afraid because of his people's love for this man. So he parleyed with the other king, and they together gave out a declaration&emdash;that the Prince of Peace troubled their people and sought to raise them in revolt. They called him a traitor and with slow torment slew him. After that deed of violence the two kings returned to their own cities and they gathered together their armies and made war upon one another, causing the people to know famine and sorrow once again. "

"Verily, the last case was worse than the first," said Jesus. "On what authority is this ending of thine to my parable?"

"On the authority of the Books of the Kings of Israel and Judaea. Lo, for many centuries nations have coveted our lands. The Philistines, the Assyrians, the Persians, the Greeks, the Romans have all made war upon us, conquered our people, despoiled their pleasant fields and put our young men to the sword."

"That is true," answered Jesus, "but no Prince of Peace came among them, no son of a great lord delivered them out of the hands of covetous kings. I have shaped my end differently from thine. I follow it so far as the prince and prophet gives his life for the peace of his brethren. For greater love hath no man than he who lays down his life for his friend. And all the people know why and how he has thus surrendered himself up and consented to die. Being moved, therefore, by his great love they cast down the covetous kings from their high places, turn their swords into ploughshares and go back to labour in their fields and groves. Verily, the last words of the son of the great lord prevail. 'My peace remain with you always even unto the end'."

"I like thine ending well," said John after a long silence, "but it is a parable and not a chronicle."

"Yea, but the parable of to-day may be the truth of the morrow."

"There are many good men and prophets named in the Books of the Kings of Israel and Judaea," said John. "These have not put an end to wars. They fail always because of the lust and pride in men's hearts."

"So my parable remains a parable to thee," answered Jesus, and his face darkened. But in a little while he frowned no more and continued: "Yea, it may well be that kings through all ages continue to covet, war upon one another and slay the prophets, yet this Prince of Peace, this Anointed One bestows in his leave-taking the Kingdom of heaven, the paradise upon all those of the elect who are his children. So whether there be war or truce for a time, from henceforth always some men will abide in that peace the Prince of Peace bore with him, and for which he surrendered up his life in torment."

CHAPTER XIII

WHEN noon came, Jesus and John went into the woods. They watched the fowls of the air, little birds that wore yellow sun-stained wings, silver grey and brown birds that flitted to and fro among the branches of the trees; and their play and commerce with each other delighted the travellers' eyes.

But, after a while, they went out on to a slope sheltered from the north by a loop of the hill. There they showed each other stray butterflies and marvelled together at the brightness of their gay apparel. They searched the grass for creeping things and talked of their ways and life. At last, wearied, they sat down behind a rock and laughed at a snake that leaped, twisted and darted, then stopped and fastened upon them the stare of its cold eye. And Jesus said:

"The serpent is a strange beast. He has neither feet nor fins nor wings, and yet he darts like a shadow. He is not there and he is again, and his flight is as the trail of blue cloud or the flash of a shining sword."

"I hate this creeping, scaly creature," said John, for he is more subtle than any beast of the field, and he deceived Eve."

"Nay," returned Jesus. "Judge not. Give of thy love to a serpent and thou wilt learn from him and he will be faithful even as a dog.

"That cannot be."

"Yet it was so. Once when I was in desert places I made friends with a serpent. He followed me here and there and coiled himself up beside me while I slept. And if jackals and hyenas drew near he made a hiss at them, rousing me, then drove them hence."

"But this creature stores up poison in order to destroy, and treachery and lies are his portion."

"Are there not also men who store up poison with intent to destroy enemy and even friend? Is treachery to be only discovered in serpents? Truly, it may be the portion of one but not of another.

"Yea, that is so," answered John.

"For a time this serpent was my guard and companion in solitude. He discovered food for me in a barren place and remained faithful and trustworthy to the end."

"This creature served thee well," said John.

"And I learned from him that what seemed by nature evil may be turned to a good purpose."

"Yet thou wilt not deny that the serpent is craftier than the fox, more cunning than any beast&emdash;than all creeping things, and therefore, detestable in the sight of man."

Jesus made no answer but stood up and gazed at a black cloud that at first was no greater in size than a bat's wing. Howbeit, as the moments fled by it increased in girth and lay, at last, like a great whale stretching across the skies from east to west.

Jesus thrust forth a hand; the first drops of rain fell upon it, and he turned to John saying: "The serpent is wise after the manner of beasts that have no knowledge of good and evil. I have learned from him that we may not judge any living creature which in its life goes craftily, stealthily and cruelly, if we have not first tried him with our love. So I seek to refrain from speaking the word of authority that denounces the unjust and the evil man. But come now, let us be going."

Thereupon the two young men sought shelter in the woods and within the leafy house they rested, secure against the great rain that swept the earth travelling on the wings of the north wind.

It was not until evening that the skies were washed clean, the clouds going southward, and they might venture out into the open fields again. Then perceiving a stable and house in the distance, John said: "Come, let us seek rest for the night in this place."

Jesus made no answer. Separating himself from his companion, he walked apart upon a ridge in the slope of the hill. John knew from the look upon his face that he had entered into the deep pool of stillness from which he might not, without hurt, be called. So he went alone towards the house, then turned back, for he perceived its owner carrying a spade and not far from Jesus.

John went to this vine-grower and asked the shelter of his stable for the night. At first the man was churlish and doubtful in his manner. But when he was shown a small coin he accepted it, and said he might rest in his barn, there was no room in the house for a stranger. After this speech he turned on his heel and traversed the ridge near Jesus.

Where Jesus had been John now perceived a dark shape that stood within a glowing flame; and lo, the flame changed, the shape being lost in the light until it had the appearance of a star in the rays it gave out on the darkening day, yet it retained the form of a man.

John marvelled as he perceived this strange light, and his marvel became wonder when he saw that the vine-grower went by this figure of flame and was so close it might well have burnt him with its rays. But he paid no heed to it. Though his head was lifted up, his eyes glancing towards that quarter, he passed by; went down the slope and entered his house, walking slowly, with the weary gait of the husbandman, after a day of toil in the fields.

Darkness came down from the skies. Even as night thus advanced, it failed to gather within its folds that flame that still shone upon the ridge of the hill.

Now the north wind slept, bird, beast and insect were silent resting also. Stillness deepened, and the light of that flame became clearer, whiter, but burned on.

And John cast himself down upon his face and prayed. In that hush the earth was not, all living things were not. It seemed indeed as if time had surrendered up its sceptre to the night.

John knew not whether he had been gathered up into another place where the world is but a shadow of what has been and fades from remembrance. Ecstasy was his, his whole being overflowed. Then, slowly, surely, he was drawn back as by a sucking tide from that shore.

Sorrowfully, he discovered himself in the dimness of the night alone in that field. Heavily he rose and went upwards to the ridge of the hill. There, as he looked about him, he heard a voice, his name called. A hand fen upon his shoulder and Jesus, now no more than a dark shape of middle height, stood beside him.

This time the younger man remained silent. But his master spoke of the need for shelter and rest, and together they went down the hill and entered the stable.

There Jesus gave thanks and they shared bread and berries together. Then they lay down and slept.

CHAPTER XIV

THE sun was high above the hills when Jesus and John came out of the stable. They drew water from a well, washed themselves and the dust from their garments.

A child that lay in a cradle some little distance away, cried out woefully. Jesus went towards it. But a woman hastened from the house, and perceiving a stranger bending over her child, spoke in heat and wrath.

"All the night he lamented and now he is roused again. Begone, vagabond and beggar. Tarry not else I will call the fierce dogs that devour thy kind."

She uttered other menaces, but Jesus did not heed her. He lifted up the child and swiftly his crying changed to laughter, his white fare to the color of a bright sky. Together these two, in curious sounds, conversed with one another, making merry while John and the woman had no more understanding of their conversation than of the cries of wild creatures. Yet it was plain from the play between the man and the child that they were as united as two friends of the one age might be. Perceiving her son's delight and also the fine coat of the stranger, the housewife's manner changed, her anger passed, she smiled and said: "Sir come into the house and honour it by breaking thy fast at our board."

Jesus thanked her and followed her in, and she brought them the best she had to offer&emdash;honey, goat's milk, bread and figs. They ate and the child was at peace, lying asleep near his friend.

Then seeing the smile upon the sleeper's face, the mother said: "A curse lies across this hou woeful temper. This is the first time he has ever smiled. "Jesus made her talk; and through his gentleness, this sullen and aforetime wrathful woman, confessed the hurt, shame and weariness of her life. She told him that her husband, though rich, was a miser. He coveted all things. He kept her in rags and gave her only enough to eat; and he was very wrathful if he saw her in conversation with any man or woman and beat her and uttered menaces. She confessed that her first love for her husband had changed to hatred, and it seemed as if the hatred had become also a part of this babe&emdash;for always he had cried and never laughed.

Then Jesus bade her not seek to give back anger for anger, blow for blow: "Strive to nourish thy past love, to grow it again like a flower. "He showed her how graciousness of speech and manner draws graciousness from another, while bitter sayings heap up a hundredfold bitter sayings in the coming time.

He taught her a song, and with his aid she discovered the voice of her childhood, which had the sweetness of a viol and flute. So that, before the travellers took their leave she was making merry, singing and laughing; and she promised Jesus she would win her husband in this fashion.

But she changed, becoming sorrowful when he bade her farewell and crept softly from the house lest he might rouse the sleeping child.

She followed, calling: "Master, Master, go not in such haste, stay awhile."

Jesus halted and said: "Name no man master save God alone. But be of good heart, for I who can perceive, know that the trouble lifts from this house."

"I gave thee welcome, sir, because of thy fine coat and the child's smile," she answered. "Now I would have thee stay and win my husband. For verily, thou couldst even win and overcome a demon with thy golden sayings and thy gay songs."

But the travellers told her they might not linger, and Jesus bade her herself conquer the evil in her husband. For she alone could overcome her fear of him and their hatred and bitterness.

The woman thanked him and thrust a portion of bread and figs into his arms. Thus they parted.

Noon had passed. They were mounting to higher regions. As they walked along the road John's mind went back, dwelling in memory. Suddenly he spoke of the past evening, of the ridge of the hill, and he said: "First thou wast a star, then a pure flame. My eyes perceived this light within dimness; and awe smote me, I bowed my face to the earth."

"Nay, thou didst not see with thine eyes, but with thy spirit."

Again John showed a glad humility, saying: "I am an ignorant fellow, I have no understanding of these things."

"In God is life," came the answer, "and the life is the light of men. The light shineth in darkness and the darkness knoweth it not. Men's eyes are dark. They may not perceive the true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world. Verily, this is a mystery. But in the past evening my heavenly Father communed with me, so through Him my spirit was lifted up, and it was given to thee to perceive this thing."

Then Jesus told John of what he had learned in the desert. "Man has a shape of light. His body receives light and gives out light from the time in his mother's womb to the hour of his death. But the body's eye may not perceive it, for sight does not mirror the life that flows from the Father to all creation."

And Jesus spoke of the many days of preparation passed by him in the wilderness in the company of the wandering tribes. Always in those hours he sought how to govern this light of the body which proceeds from the Father. He had discovered that, when exalted and lifted up by his Father's presence, his spirit might not only order this light but might cause it to gather within it another man's shape of light, renew the inner body of life with its own strong light. Then he, who was possessed by it, might be healed of sickness, of palsy, or any other grievous infirmity. Also, when Jesus was thus with power, he declared that his body of light might be so driven, its rays would cast out the demon or demons from a possessed man.

'Verily, I have thus in struggle once pitted myself against the Adversary and conquered," cried Jesus, and his face was all brightness as he spoke of that glad and great instant of power. Then suddenly it darkened, and he became silent and withdrawn from John.

Sensible of that coldness&emdash;that swift withdrawal, the youth sought to recapture the warmth and magic of his sayings. But Jesus would not speak any more in that hour. It was long afterwards when John learned why Jesus had been compelled to depart from the region of Nazareth, from kin and tribe, that he had understanding of this change, this swift dimming of Jesus, his aloofness and dumbness for a time. For in speaking thus of demons, his memory went back to Scribe and Pharisee, the hurt dealt out by venomous sayings, jealous sentences and the twisted bitterness of old and learned, men.

CHAPTER XV

SOON olive groves, vineyards and orchards passed from sight. The travellers walked in mist. Jesus talked of this dew of Hermon, of the herbs, trees and thirsty grass that drank it up like wine; and he named them name by name and made a parable of the seed the leaf, the bud, the flower that became seed again. Eagerly, happily, he span his tale, speaking of cypress, oak, poplar, plane, thorn and other trees, of the many-colored lilies, of golden wheat, cummin and rye, and to each he gave a nature according to its shape and color, a life and happenings in that life. He told of its enemies and friends, the insects and creatures about it, and of the rich earth or stony ground from which it sprang.

John forgot that he was footsore and weary so fine and close was the plaiting and unplaiting of the parable. Jesus spoke of the difference of plant and tree from man. They did not dig, harvest or toil; they lived by faith, and lovely were their lives, all cared for by the Father who provided for their nourishment sunshine, skyshine and rain.

"And what is the meaning of this, thy parable?" asked John after a silence.

"Lo, if all men lived by faith even as grass and flower, then might they have understanding and know that the Kingdom of Heaven is within and not without the man&emdash;not in some far place beyond the skies."

John made no answer. He did not question Jesus further, for he was pondering over this new strange saying; "the Kingdom of Heaven is within and not without man."

The travellers passed that night in a hut in which lived poor le who gave of the best the house could offer. They sought to stint themselves for their guests. But Jesus made all share and share alike, and all were glad though still hungry when they had finished.

Then the lean husbandman said to Jesus: "Thy words give a savour to sour bread. It is as if I had partaken of a feast."

And the good man and his wife, who were poorer than beggars, told of their days of hardship, of their five children who had perished from hunger, yet they spoke with no bitterness, they did not rail against God or man.

So when at sunrise the travellers had parted from them Jesus was uplifted in spirit and said to John: "This man and his wife are not far from the Kingdom of God. Thou didst offer them the price of our lodgment and food, and they would not take it. But the rich man of yester-eve demanded money and accepted it, that we might lie among the beasts in the shelter of his stable for the night; Behold the children of darkness and the children of light."

CHAPTER XVI

THE higher slopes of Hermon are the habitation of wolf, bear and eagle. To the people of Caesarea Philippi their barren ways, their mighty precipices make of them a region of desolation. But Jesus and John rejoiced in their grandeur and in the deep peace of their silence.

Not travelling by any set path, not going a straight course, one day at noon they came to the goal they sought, which is known as Baal-Gad.

In the ancient days it had been a holy place and it had also been the High Place of Baal. The Romans had passed that way, leaving behind them their superscription&emdash;the images of the gods having been carved on the cliffside. John was troubled at perceiving the signs of Caesar's power; but Jesus paid no heed to these idols. His eyes were fastened on a low cave. From its mouth spouted a score of streams. Green, glimmering and strange, these waters leaped over the rocks and then foamed down towards the distant valleys to their home, Gennesaret. Thus from the very heart of the mountain the Jordan, the nourisher of Israel, sprang into life.

Jesus had turned, faced southwards and stood at gaze. All Galilee lay below him enshrined in a golden light. Set in the midst of hills and groves, lake Gennesaret shone like a blue, starry stone. To the east lay Gilead and the mountains of Moab. Then his eyes roved to south and west. There stood Mount Tabor, friend and guardian of Nazareth, and he knew that near it was the battle-field where Saul and Jonathan had died.

But in that time these things were not gathered into John's vision. A vulture flew out from among the rocks and hovered above this head.

"The bird of death," he muttered, "the bird of decay and corruption," and he called out: "Brother, this is a place of profanities, the haunt of Beelzebub." He trembled: "Lo, here the priest of Baal made offerings to idols, sacrifices of men, women and children. Age on age hath this region been stained by blood, polluted by wantonness and torn by fear. Come let us go hence, for it is no fit place in which to dwell."

His voice ceased in echo that died slowly within the mountain's heart. Again the vulture circled above him then passed by.

Quiet folded within its embrace all that lofty, lonely height. After a little while Jesus sighed and said in answer: "There are many silences. But in this stillness the good and the true can hear God."

"Then am I rebuked, stranger?" For in that instant with that saying Jesus became strange to John who still could not comprehend and said: "It is a place of evil sullied for many centuries by the worship of heathen gods."

And Jesus answered: "Behold the Land of Promise stretches away below us and behold God dwells here."

Still John did not hear or feel God, he was lonely and afraid.

"If I were called, if I were chosen," said Jesus, "upon this rock I would cause my disciples to build the Temple of my Heavenly Father. They being the good and the true, would overcome past evil and the demons like shadows would flee away. For he who is holy can only create what is holy. What need of marble pillars, or gold and silver, or precious wood. Behold here, in this mountain carved and hewn by my Heavenly Father, is the Temple prepared and ready for the worshippers and the worshipped."

Then, stirred by the light on the face of the stranger, John knew him as friend and beloved and cried: "Yea, worshippers and worshipped, and all the Land of Promise spanned by the glance of an eye. I have under standing, I perceive thy vision."

But Jesus did not kindle to the words of wonder and the awe shown by John. He frowned and muttered: "If I were a prophet, if I were chosen. Nay, nay, that may not be. I am Son of Man and come of a town of which no good word has been said." Thus speaking he again sighed and ceased.

In the silence John gazed up at the vast snow-laden dome of the mountain above and down at the deepening gold of the world below. Here was a church not made with hands and there lay an image of the whole earth.

The peace that is everlasting entered into, possessed John's spirit in that hour, and on that High Place of Baal he knew God.

CHAPTER XVII

THEY came to an orchard. Jesus halted and they sat down under the trees. From this hill the eye might perceive two roads. One led to Caesarea Philippi, the other to the valleys.

"Here, where two ways meet, shall be the place of our leave-taking," said Jesus.

"I shall never leave thee," cried John.

"What of thy brother, father and mother?"

"I am prepared to give up father, mother, yea, and brother and follow my friend and master."

"And thus I may set thee at variance with thy kinsfolk and wrong them," answered Jesus. "Nay, I will not carry that burden; I journey alone so that I may learn my purpose and my destiny."

Then for a long while these two reasoned with one another, and John wept. But the face of Jesus remained stem and steadfast, and though he would not be called master, his air of authority mastered this youth in that, time.

"I obey; thou dost compel me," groaned John at last. "But I pray thee tell me thy name, so that, knowing it, some day I shall find thee again."

"I may not reveal it to one I love," answered Jesus, lest he discover who I am. For my past tells me that when my life trespasses on the lives of the children of light I come like a strong man with violence into a house. I break up and overturn and may bear distress and hurt to their kinsfolk and bring upon them the wrath and scorn of Scribe and Pharisee and elder. Wherefore, we do not meet again."

Then John beat his head upon the ground, breaking into lamentations; and his strong voice echoed over the valley, struck upon rock and hill and came back again. At that loud clamour, a flock of little birds fled from among the branches of the trees and flew away.

But Jesus said: "I am athirst." And he seemed harsh and aloof to John who had not heeded the deep sadness in the sound of his words of separation. He rose up now and went to the Jordan which flowed at the foot of the orchard. There he bent down, made a cup of his hands and drank from them.

After a while John became quiet and joined his master at the river's edge. He lay down and gazed into a pool that lay in a bright transparency away from the shadow. Wearied and spent from a despair heavy and lonely as death, he suffered his thoughts to sleep, his spirit gazed into the waters, and they mirrored images of hill, river and lake, of people and multitudes. It saw scenes of tumult, scenes of worship on mountainside, in streets and Temple. Always he passed through them in a little company following another and, though that other had his face turned from his sight, he knew him to be Jesus.

Astonished, glad, he came out of that swoon within the spirit's heart. He rose up crying: "Friend, beloved, it is well. We shall meet again."

"I cannot tell thee the design of the years," Jesus sorrowfully answered. "But knowing my past I fear it is farewell and we shall not in this life again commune with one another."

And John laughed and repeated: "We meet again; I have seen; I know."

Then Jesus bade him come with him. They climbed the slope, and loth to go further, sat down again at the corner of the two roads.

Jesus said to John: "Now I have something to ask of thee. Tell no man of my words. Promise that even thine encounter with the nameless stranger is withheld from all men. Let what has passed between us remain secret and hidden. In its own full time all may be revealed. But now I conjure thee to remain silent and tell no man of these days of our delight and joy in comradeship."

And John gave his promise in this matter.

Then Jesus spoke further: "Thou art lovely in my sight as the first-born is lovely in the sight of his father. But in my past whenever peace and joy have smiled upon me always there comes the trouble-maker. Such would seem to be my destiny. I would not, therefore, gather thee within its shadow; I would not wrest from thee the joys of daily life, the happiness of days passed on the lake of Gennesaret, the pleasant companionship of thy kinsfolk, the time when thou takest a woman to wife, the years of fruitfulness for ye, the good days when thy sons are grown and thou art honoured by them. Middle age and old age pass within this golden round of peace, delight and the small cares and joys of simple life which end as well or better in the last freedom of death."

And suddenly without sign or word of leave-taking Jesus turned from John and hastened up the road towards Caesarea Philippi.

Long time John stood there gazing after him, and he perceived that his shoulders were bowed, his body bent as if beneath some heavy burden&emdash;the burden of his grief at that farewell.

Grave of countenance at last the younger man turned his face to the valleys. But as he went down the road he sang softly to himself, and in the notes of that voice were hopes and the promise that had been mirrored in the waters and was of the days to come.

CHAPTER XVIII

ELDAD'S brother Jacob was a cloth-merchant who lived meanly and complained to all comers of his poverty.

He lent money secretly at usury and thereby amassed wealth. His daughters were married and he lived by himself save for his servant Asaph in a street in Caesarea Philippi. When a boy this servant had been a Gentile slave and through ill usage had lost the power of speech. So he went silently, cringing before the blow, resigned to toil and hardship in the house of his master.

A Scribe and a Pharisee visited that house and alone received entertainment and gifts from Jacob who believed that through them and their long prayers for him, he propitiated the God of Israel and obtained a blessing on his usury.

At the end of each season he wrote down their names and the price of their gifts and entertainment in his book of numbers; and there being customarily a goodly increase in his money lent at usury, he also set this down against the Scribe and Pharisee, holding that their prayers had helped to gather in this harvest.

One year, when through Gentile exactions, Jacob had gained little or nothing, he spoke to the Scribe and Pharisee and declared that the shortness of their prayers for him had led to Jehovah turning his face away and forgetting his servant, the cloth-merchant. Then these two men promised to increase the hours of their prayers, and they stood at the street crner and beat their breasts and uttered many words with great swiftness. Thus did they please Jacob and win his favour once again.

Jesus perceived these two men as he came up the street called "Crooked" in Caesarea Philippi, and he fastened stem eyes upon them which softened as they fell on the youth, Asaph, who was passing by. And Asaph was moved by that gaze and halted. Though afraid of blows and the hard words of all men, he approached this stranger who asked of him the road to the cloth-merchant's dwelling. By signs the boy showed the way and soon they came into Jacob's counting house.

The old man welcomed Jesus because of his fine coat; and his welcome became a joyful one when he received his inheritance&emdash;a purse of money from his brother Eldad. But soon, troubled lest the stranger might ask for payment as bearer and messenger, he changed and lamented loudly his need, his ragged garments, and declared that this purse of money would but go to pay old debts, that indeed he had not even a mite to spare for a beggar&emdash;so miserable was his poverty.

"The rich man is the poor man," said Jesus.

"A strange saying," answered Jacob, eyeing the stranger curiously.

"But the truth," answered Jesus, "and it should comfort thee. The rich man, who hungers for increase of wealth, has many cares. Therein resides his poverty. He is imprisoned in a mean round of ignoble fears and desires, always he is afraid, fearful of thieves, wars, Caesar and the tax-collector."

"Yea, that is true," sighed Jacob, then ceased. For he was discomfited and perplexed by this man's eyes that seemed to pierce his head, perceive his riches and even the writing in his book of numbers. So he cast down his gaze and read his brother's letter&emdash;the words that commended Jesus to him, asked for his employment and spoke of his rare powers of healing.

Now at times Jacob suffered from pains in his bones, and he had found no cure for his affliction. So he was glad to learn of this healer. But as was his wont he spoke sourly:

"I perceive from this writing that thou art a physician. Of a truth I have no faith in their prating. It has been well said that a physician is more evil than a robber, for a robber takes either a man's money or his fife. But a physician takes both."

"The laughter of fools is as the crackling of thorns under a pot," muttered Jesus. Only Asaph heard this saying. It was lost to the old man in the sounds of his laughter at his own bitter jest.

When this ass's braying ceased Jesus spoke again:

I am no physician. I do not heal. But what we seek we find. When I was a boy and lived at Nazareth, there was a year when the plague smote the people. Many were stricken and many died. In that time a physician came from Capernaum and he journeyed here, there, everywhere, not sleeping night or day but unwearyingly visiting all the sick round about. Without food or rest he worked on and succoured some while others died. At last because he was spent from toil and hardship, he was stricken with the fever and so perished. Verily this physician, in full knowledge, gave his life for the people. I ask you, sir, can any man do more?"

Jacob made no answer for he was discomfited, and Jesus continued: "Since that season of my boyhood I have honoured the healer and held him in esteem. But, peradventure, thou hast not been as fortunate as IT'

"The physician has taken my money and not taken away my pains," answered Jacob, "and I always live in fear lest I died suddenly. But now that thou art tome, friend, I am comforted. Thou hast the gift of healing my brother writes. Wherefore I pray thee remove this affliction from me and I will treat thee well."

Again Jesus denied that he was a physician, and his host, deeming that he was offended because of his jest, said no more about it. He commanded Asaph to fetch bread and water for the traveller.

Jesus washed his feet and hands, partook of the bread and lay down and slept, for he was weary after his journey.

On the morrow when he rose at sunrise Jacob greeted him with fair words and offered to keep him as his servant and messenger. For he divined that Jesus was not like other men. He might not only serve him for no wage, but could be also persuaded in a little while to heal his master.

And Jesus consented to remain for a few days in his house, he would not bind himself for any longer time. With this Jacob must be content.

CHAPTER XIX

IT seemed to Asaph as if he had always lived in darkness. But now a great light had come into his life. Sunrise, sunset and starshine took on a new glory. The mountain wind, that drifted through the streets of Caesarea, bore in its breath a perfumed sweetness. Long hours of toil were no burden when some were passed in the company of the stranger who seemed indeed to be mercy, wisdom and mystery. To the youth, scarred by life, he came to be the fair dream that is near and pressing but not yet wholly revealed. So, slowly, surely, this child of suffering, fear and pain, sloughed the skin of the frightened hireling. He no longer cowered before his master's blow, he faced it bravely, and in a little while Jacob desisted from striking him when they were in the presence of Jesus. For his glance shamed the old man who had spoken much of his own righteousness, his zeal in the observance of the Law of Moses, his prayers and his gifts to Pharisee and Scribe. He would beguile Jesus, weave his spider's web about him. For being practiced in the study and handling of divers kinds of men through his trading in cloth and money, he rightly divined that here was a man of integrity who might be trusted with his house and his treasure if he went on a journey about his commerce, who would keep off all comers and also seemingly set no store by money, so would be glad only of a roof and food.

To gain his ends he set the stranger no hard tasks and for hours suffered him to be abroad in the streets seeking his own pleasures. It was the first time Jesus had lived in a town which was dominated by the Gentiles.

And as he wandered to and fro he perceived rich men going in litters, fine houses, pomp and wealth; blind beggars, foul alleys and the skeletons of famished men. He saw many crippled slaves who had been tortured by their masters, then turned away to live in want and filth or to perish from hunger. Oft-times his ears sorrowfully hearkened to the cries of slaves who were being flogged. Then, escaping from them down the fine streets, he would pass the marble temple raised in honour of the Roman god Caesar, and he went by images of their many gods. What troubled him was not the outward signs of a false and barren idolatry but the failing of any inward grace. His heart hardened against the Gentiles, for in that season, as he told Asaph, they who had sovereignty over the people, wealth and power, appeared harsh in their laws, cruel and wanton in their lives, seeking only their own pleasure.

He spoke of all these things to Asaph, and, therefore, of his resolution that if he were called he would bear his good tidings neither to Gentile nor Samaritan but to his own people, the Jews alone. Gazing at the street called Crooked and at the market place beyond and the people who swarmed therein like bees, he said: "Verily, my old friend Heli spoke the truth in those words&emdash;'the cities are as nests of vipers and toads. There is little pity and scarce any hope in them. They be builded for the joy of a few and for the despair of many'." And in a little while he added yet another saying of Heli: "'The ways of Jehovah are dark, they make me afraid when I shake the dust of the cities from off my feet. The ways of Jehovah are light. They make me glad when I have dwelled for a season among the outcasts in the desert places'. Those words were spoken to me some seven years ago. I have understanding of them now."

In the silence that followed this speech Asaph trembled, caught at the stranger's tunic, then threw himself down at his feet, making signs of entreaty, tears falling from his eyes. He could utter no sound that would declare his trouble; but Jesus lifted him up and gave him a tablet; and in a little while painfully, slowly, were words written, and thus they ran: "Master, go not hence without me. For if I remain here alone I shall slay myself. Truly, for me, there is only darkness and death in this city. Let me follow and serve thee always as thy bondman."

"Not bondman. If thou dost follow me&emdash;and my yoke is easy, my burden light&emdash;it shall be as my disciple," said Jesus. Then his face darkened and he added: "I had desired to journey alone. Nay, I can make thee no promise in this time."

Asaph showed signs of woe, but might not press Jesus further, for on his last saying Jacob came into the house in the company of his friends the Scribe and the Pharisee.

He commanded that food and drink be set before them. The Pharisee was great of girth, the Scribe a little man; and when these two sat down Jesus served them going to and fro while they ate largely and drank well.

They conversed in low tones, not of the things of the spirit but of the money-merchant's commerce. The Scribe promised to compel young men of the congregation to pay Jacob their debts to him else he would openly declare their dishonour to the people, and thus destroy them. The Pharisee promised to win for Jacob through holy sayings, a rich Jew who was of a devout temper, and would certainly trade with Jacob if he learnt of his righteousness; and also they promised to pray for his prosperity. Then Jacob was uplifted; he laid gifts before his guests, and afterwards called Jesus and presented him to these men.

Because of his fine coat they received him graciously, but they would make him sensible of their high calling. And the Pharisee said of the Scribe: "He is fined with the water of knowledge, from which not one drop escapes."

And the Scribe said of the Pharisee: "He is honoured by Jehovah, and the angels proclaim his praises."

Sitting at their feet, Jesus remained silent. Then believing that he was awed by their honourable estate and learning, the Scribe said: "Be not overcome by our presence, young man. Question us."

"Yea, Rabbi," answered Jesus, "I would ask thee a riddle which perplexes me. Why, at times, are evil men good and holy men evil?"

And the Scribe protested at this saying and declared that he spoke out of his ignorance.

Jesus made answer: "I speak out of the book of life, I tell of a true happening. Behold, there is a certain village in a valley. Near this village lives a husbandman, his wife and seven children. The lean years came to that country, there were no harvests on the hills. For a long time the husbandman lay sick, and when he was whole again no food was in the house, no corn in store. The children were perishing with hunger. So this man and his wife said: 'We will go to the rich and righteous Pharisee and he will have compassion on us'. They went to his house and told him of their need. But he would not give them one farthing saying: 'In the fat, years ye wasted your goods and lived well. Wherefore ye must pay for your follies in the lean times. Jehovah is just. To every man his measure. But I will intercede for ye with Him and name ye in my prayers'.

"So from the gates of the rich Pharisee's dwelling this man and his wife went empty-handed. Then they sought out a Scribe famed for his wise counsel saying: 'He will contrive at least some way for us whereby we may save ourselves and our children from the death of hunger'.

"Now this Scribe lived comfortably, had neither kith nor kin and a good store of corn. But he gave not one measure of grain to these fainting people, and his counsel was that they should wait patiently for the year's round and what might be a good harvest. 'But we shall be dead before the coming of that season if we find no bread now for our children', they cried.

"Then the Scribe rated these poor people for their doubt of the mercy of God and turned them from his door. In their need, therefore, they went to a harlot's house and begged for bread. And she gave them five loaves and goat's milk; and when again they were hungry she sent them corn and oil, so thus they were able to live till spring returned, and with it the passing of that season of dearth."

Here Jesus halted, and after an instant's silence, asked: "Tell me, Rabbi, which of these three was preferred by God?&emdash;the Scribe who was fined with the water of knowledge, the Pharisee whose praises were said to be proclaimed by the angels, or the harlot who had sinned often, yet had regard for her neighbor and mercy for him in the hour of famine and his sore need?"

For a while these two friends of Jacob made no answer because they were very wrath, wherefore they could not find words to declare their indignation. But, at last, the Pharisee turned to Jacob and asked: "From whence comes this young man?

"From Nazareth"

"A town of ill repute," said the Scribe.

"And his father?" asked the Pharisee.

"He is, my brother tells me, a carpenter," answered Jacob.

"A trade for ignorant men," said the Scribe.

"I have not boasted of my knowledge," returned Jesus, "I have but asked thee to instruct my ignorance. The tale I have told is true. So I pray thee answer me this riddle of the evil and the good."

And these two Rabbis shook their heads.

"Only God can judge," said Jesus. "But of these three I would say that He preferred the woman who loved much."

And now the dagger-thrust of the parable so stung these men they could not contain themselves any more. The Pharisee was the spokesman. He stood up, crying gut: "This fellow profanes the great Name of Jehovah in speaking thus of Him and coupling Him with the filth of the world. I will not remain in thy house, Jacob, in the company of this blasphemer."

"It is written Jehovah created all things," said Jesus. "This woman who loved as well as sinned, is His handiwork and, therefore, one of His children even though she was led astray."

For answer the Pharisee, who was mighty in girth and splendid in his embroidered robes, swept by the slender Nazarite, but he might not pass out into the street as Jacob barred his way. He entreated his guest to stay yet awhile and commanded Jesus instantly to go from the presence of these holy men. The Scribe also reasoned with his friend. So these two remained and earnestly counselled Jacob to send this vagabond away from his house.

Jacob lamented and told them he could not suffer this loss. Jesus was a strange being, but spoke out of his ignorance. "He is," declared the usurer, "like some curious white bird that comes from over the sea. We do not discover his kind in this region or town. He scorns riches, and truly, he is the only man I have ever encountered to whom I would entrust my house and all my possessions. I purposed to make him my steward. For I lose commerce because I may not go on journeys, not having any faithful overseer I may leave me."

"This Jesus," answered the Pharisee, "seeks to ensnare thee. He would entrap thee in a deceit of words."

"And when thou art gone hence on a journey," said the Scribe, "he will plunder thy house and flee into another country with thy gains."

"My brother entrusted Jesus with a weighty purse of gold for me," answered Jacob. "He might have fled to Jerusalem or to Alexandria with this spoil&emdash;no man hindering him. But marvellous as it may seem, he rendered up those monies to me, yea, every penny, and asked for no reward for such a perilous journey."

"The blasphemer," said the Pharisee thrusting out, his belly, "betrays Jehovah, so he will, in due season, betray his fellow man."

"If a craftsman," answered Jacob, "comes upon a good tool he does not let it rust or throw it away. In my trading I have dealt with all kinds of men and never have I erred in my judgment of them. This Nazarite is a man of integrity who may well serve me for no wage but his board and what else for his necessity I can give him. Lastly, he is a worker of miracles. He cast out a fearful devil from my nephew, and that is no little thing. In time, if I can persuade the stranger, he will remove my pains and heal mine infirmity."

As Jacob spoke, the faces of his listeners became longer and longer until they were the length of a tailor's tape-measure. These men were filled with jealousy and vexation; but for this very reason spoke smoothly, fearing that now they had against them a covetous adversary who would lose them the profits they earned from Jacob by their weighty prayers.

So the Scribe said: "If it please thee let us converse with the stranger. We would see him work a miracle and heal thee of thine infirmity."

Now Asaph was serving in the shop without and heard this conversation and afterwards told of all these things to Mary Clopas. Summoned by Jacob, he went at his bidding here and there, until he discovered Jesus and brought him again into the presence of the holy men.

Each in turn courteously questioned him concerning his talents; but he answered them only with "yea" or "nay." Lastly, the Pharisee spoke of the cure of Jacob's nephew and said: "I have been much uplifted at hearing that thou art in truth a worker of miracles." And he pressed him for tidings of this miracle.

"Thou canst not deny it, for I have it here in my brother's writing," said Jacob.

And Jesus could not deny this thing but said: "What of it? I am no physician."

"Thou canst heal this good man who has given thee shelter and food," said the Scribe.

"Nay, I am determined I shall work no miracles in this Gentile city," said Jesus.

They reasoned with him, but he remained steadfast and declared that it was not his will that he should heal Jacob or any other in this season.

"Jesus is no friend of thine, Jacob," said the Pharisee.

Thou goest on sticks and art at times bowed down with thine affliction. But this noble and virtuous Nazarite, who, being a miracle-worker, can make thy body whole through the touch of his hands yet will not do so, is assuredly no friend of thine."

Jacob was much vexed by this saying, so he offered Jesus a sum of silver pieces if he would raise him up from his sticks and make him walk with freedom once again.

"Let thy gifts be to thyself," said Jesus, "or give thy rewards to Asaph who has served thee well. The labourer is worthy of his hire."

Now if the usurer had agreed with this saying and presented his servant with what indeed was his due, Jesus would have had compassion on this man and might indeed have loosed the knotted limbs and freed his body with intent to free his spirit at a later time.

But Jacob cried out upon the bestowal of his gifts on his servant; for he always liked to receive more than the worth of the gift. Perceiving that Jesus turned away he changed in his speech, entreating him in Jehovah's Name to have compassion on an old man.

The Pharisee and Scribe spoke mockingly saying:

He hath no power to heal, he is a deceiver, a liar, and may well have counterfeited thy brother's writing."

"He could not have counterfeited the purse of money he carried with him for me," protested Jacob. Then suddenly the talk ceased, for Jesus had turned and faced the three men.

"As thou wilt not bestow thy gift on Asaph," he said to Jacob, "give it to this Scribe and Pharisee, and they will, in their prayers, ask for thy recovery. But I will not do this thing for thee because of the hardness of thy heart to thy servant. I go hence, farewell."

Whereupon Jesus shook the dust of the house from off his feet and passed swiftly from the presence of the astonished Scribe and Pharisee. Then Jacob threw himself upon the ground lamenting and groaning, saying: "I have lost the only man I have ever trusted&emdash;the steward beyond price, the one who might have been the staff and comfort of my old age."

And while Pharisee and Scribe sought with flattery and deceit of words to win him in this time, Asaph stole from his shop. Then fearful of pursuit, he went softly down the street and, at the corner perceiving Jesus hastened after him.

CHAPTER XX

THROUGH all his childhood Asaph had gone hungry and had received much ill usage. He was a little man feeble of body and easily wearied. Jacob had struck him with his stick and lamed him. So he travelled slowly after Jesus, and came upon him because the passing crowd of Jews, Gentiles, of poor and rich, halt, maimed and finely made men and women, made a spectacle hard by the Roman Temple. Always Jesus would learn of the people by watching them come and go when they knew not of eyes that followed them. He would then read from their faces and gestures the story in each book of life. And afterwards, it was from such reading that he drew many of his parables. In the days when he walked by the Sea of Galilee, to great numbers were told these histories of men and women, so that they were said by those who delighted in them, to be of the number of the fishes in the lake. Often John and James would say "we will go afishing", meaning that they would seek to catch those fishes that were tales entrapped in the nets of life by their Master.

But now, in this season at Caesarea Philippi, as Jesus gazed upon the passing throng, Asaph plucked at his robe and by signs asked that he might accompany the traveller on his way. For he knew from watching him that he would also shake the dust of this city from off his feet.

It was some little while before answer was made. But when the parable-maker at last turned from the book of life he said: "Return to Jacob, thou art in his service and a man of the towns. Choose the hard road, the road of thorns and thou mayest well perish on the hills in this winter season."

Again Asaph plucked at his robe. Then Jesus pulled himself away and a press of people parted them so that he was lost to sight.

The young man, however, bent his head down to the earth. And having put to his face the hand that had plucked at the robe, he pointed it this way and that. When it was turned southwards it went down, the finger stretched towards the earth. So he followed it going southwards. Then having travelled some way, he halted at the meeting of three roads. Again when he pointed to the eastern quarter the finger seemed dragged downwards, and the young man obeyed its bidding following it until he came to open country and espied Jesus, sitting alone under a plane tree.

It was past noon and a wind blew from Hermon bearing in its wings the first cold breath of the winter snows that rest upon those heights. Asaph shivered as he came up behind Jesus and plucked at his robe.

This time he rebuked Jacob's servant saying: "Follow me not, importune me no more. I purpose to journey alone, for only thus may I discover my destiny."

Asaph fell back abashed by the sternness of the voice and the look of authority on the face of this man, which changed him from the well-beloved into a stranger. It seemed indeed to be dismissal, and Asaph made as if he would return to the town. But as soon as Jesus went forward and was lost to sight at the bend of the road, Asaph halted, and, drawing his rags closer about him, he again followed&emdash;limping in the track of the traveller.

Some hours later Jesus rested upon the side of a hill on a heap of withered leaves, and he was withdrawn into himself, preparing thus to cast his spirit forth towards the Father. Time passed; and when a weary, footsore Asaph came upon him, evening had gathered and the sun dropped behind the hill.

He lay down before Jesus and clasped his feet with his hands and thus remained&emdash;his face white and drawn and lifted up to the Master.

Then Jesus spoke gently and told the young man once more that his was a hard way, a way of thorns.

"I am assured that thou wilt meet with sorrow and a sudden and violent end if thy destiny is joined to my destiny. So I would spare thee and send thee back to the town with these silver pieces which I have discovered sewn into my coat; thou canst begin trading in Caesarea Philippi and will in time secure a comfortable living and the good prosperous days all men in that city desire."

Asaph made signs upon the sandy earth which, being interpreted, were that he would rather lose his life in the company of Jesus than save his life and win to prosperous days without him.

For a while there was silence between these two, both being troubled, and Jesus of a truth was sorely vexed that he might not escape however he strove from the company of his fellow men.

At last he spoke: "Follow me. Peradventure if thou dost lose thy life for my sake, thou wilt save it even as grain is cut down and saved."

CHAPTER XXI

ASAPH did not presume to walk with Jesus, he fell back behind him some twenty paces; for he deemed that Jesus desired to dream, and even a silent companion by his side might break up his reverie.

They went forward and came to a village when night had fallen. There Jesus laid out a silver piece to good advantage, buying bread, salt, meat, wine, a lamp and oil. Asaph was astonished, for now they had enough with them of stores to burden two men; and Jesus bade him take up the lighter load.

On that evening no dew of Hermon enveloped the world in mist. It was a clear, cold, starlight night, and the north wind, like a wolf, ranged fiercely through the country. So Jesus halted, made Asaph strip off his ragged shirt, wrapping round him his fine coat which enveloped his withered body in many folds, but yielded warmth, and gave a new heart for the road. And Jesus put on, as best he could, his companion's ragged shirt which veritably had not enough cloth in it to cover him and keep out the bite of the wind.

Then the travellers climbed a hill and came to the hut of the lean husbandman who was known as Manasseh. They laid their burdens outside the door, and the man and his wife gave Jesus a royal welcome. They washed the feet of the wayfarers and Manasseh eagerly asked for tidings of the journey of his friend and of the sights he had seen. But the housewife wept saying: "I am ashamed for there is not a crust of bread in the house to offer thee." And lo, it was bare of all save a board&emdash;these two had but the shelter of a roof and no more.

Then Jesus went out and bore in the packs he and Asaph had carried up from the village. And the man and his wife were like twittering birds giving many cries of joy. Never had they seen such a feast. The food was spread on the board and all ate and were filled.

Afterwards the housewife took a needle and mended and shaped the coats and the shirts of the travellers. And Jesus jested and made merry with these simple people.

Then becoming graver and heartened by the food he had eaten, Manasseh spoke of his dream&emdash;that he should become the owner of a vineyard; for he had knowledge of the ways of the vine and skill in making good wine. And he sighed, saying: "Not in this life can our dream be fulfilled. But, friend, do not misunderstand me. I am not complaining because our lot must always be a hard one with the sure end of death by famine. When it comes I shall lie down and know it is Jehovah's will."

"And even in this life Jehovah will take care of thee and preserve thee from such an end," said Jesus.

"Nay," answered the housewife, "Jehovah has turned his face from his children and forgotten us."

"Not even the sparrows are forgotten by my Heavenly Father," said Jesus. "Be of good cheer. Verily, ye are of more value to Him than a multitude of sparrows."

Then these two were comforted, though the woman spoke sorrowfully of her five children who had died in the time of dearth.

For a little while these two thought he mocked, for they had sunk into such depths of poverty they could not believe that they might ever be raised out of it and rejoice in a son.

Half the night was gone over before they all lay down to rest and slept. So it was some three hours after sunrise when they waked, and Jesus, who had roused up sooner, was preparing to depart from that place.

As Manasseh and his wife went out to sign them farewell from the brow of the hill, Jesus slipped back into the hut, and Asaph perceived that he hastily laid down upon the board therein his store of silver keeping back only one piece. He would make this offering by stealth because the husbandman was proud and would not have accepted alms from this Master whom he revered.

It was not, indeed, until Jesus and Asaph had been long gone on their way that these good people, still rejoicing in that grace that had been bestowed on them by the stranger, entered their dwelling and perceived what Manasseh declared in that instant of delight, was like the wealth of all the world laid before him.

Later he took this money and bought with it the vineyard of his dream. Because of his skill. and industry he prospered, and his wife bore two sons to him who grew to be strong men, supple of limb, and the joy of their mother.

Every evening for a score or more of years, this vine-grower and his wife gave thanks to Jehovah for the coming of the stranger, and counting up their prosperity, they talked of this man and that grace that was about him. The housewife would wonder whether he, too, knew prosperous days and had a wife and sons strong as an eagle, that might be the joy of his old age, and she ever prayed that it was so.

But Manasseh held his peace, for his spirit had divined that this young man travelled through the world always alone.

CHAPTER XXII

WHEN the last farthing was spent Asaph became troubled and dark in himself. He feared his own bodily weakness, the winter cold and hunger. Always having been afraid, he was now wholly cast down being away from the town he had known and from the multitude of people who live thus closely confined.

Jesus divined his thought and chid him saying: "Be not of little faith. The world is barren for those who doubt the goodness of the Father."

Nevertheless, Asaph would not be comforted. But that evening when they came to a village Jesus knocked at the door of the first house, and he was offered shelter and also food by the goodman within.

At the bidding of his master on the evening that followed, Asaph knocked at the door of a house standing alone on a hill. But he was afraid when he made his request for a night's lodging. And though he wore a fine coat, the owner of that dwelling refused him shelter and turned him away. It was a lonely place and they might not journey further because Asaph was weary&emdash;his lameness coming against him in that hour. He wept, and again his soul was filled with darkness.

It was not a night on which to lie out on the hillside, for a fine rain was falling, and no trees that might give covering from it, grew in that region. So Jesus went and knocked at the same door. And when the husbandman opened it and heard his voice asking for a night's rest within his dwelling, he bade him enter. For Jesus spoke as one who believed in this man's goodwill, so he was graciously received, and the travellers were served with food and drink. At the evening's end the master of that house declared that he had been well repaid by the tales and sayings of Jesus for what he had given him and his companion. Then in the morning his wife presented the strangers with figs and bread, enough for two days and mourned because they would not abide any longer in that place.

But Jesus was looking for work as a shepherd, and in that region the people owned vineyards and olive groves and kept no sheep. So the travellers went southwards, then eastwards, and came at last to wild and hilly country not far from a plain that was near the eastern bank of the river Jordan.

Here few men lived, and in that season the traveller might journey a long way in solitude through those deep valleys and up the steep, stony slopes hearing only, when evening drew near, the cry of hyena or jackal. In another earlier time Asaph would in great fear have fled from such a land. But now that his master, having healed him of his lameness, he had belief in him even as a sheep-dog in his master.

Howbeit, these two lost their way and one night were compelled to sleep beneath the stars. They had no food with them, and on the morrow Asaph was somewhat daunted. They travelled slowly and he sought by signs to persuade Jesus to turn back from these hills. But he might not find the work he desired save in this region.

So they went forward till they came to a house built of dark stone and standing beside a stream that dropped down from an opening in a cliff. It had no appearance of welcome for the travellers. The red, sandy earth on which it was set, seemed evil to Asaph, and beneath the rays of the sinking sun, took on the color of blood. He drew back when Jesus went on and asked a man who came towards him if he had need of a shepherd to tend his flocks; for they had passed by sheep as they came up the cliffside to this place.

But the man who was named Joel, spoke in anger, declaring that he had no work for robbers and thieves, and he raised his staff, menacing the stranger with it.

So Jesus returned to Asaph and told him that they must go further into the hills. But when they had walked a little way they heard the bark of wolves coming from behind great rocks that rose up towards the north. Then Asaph threw himself down on the ground and made signs that he could go no further, that he would liefer remain here and perish. Almost he fainted from fear and despair.

Day was dying and the boulders cast black shadows across the mighty gulfs of stone that were cut into that tossed and tumbled land. To Asaph it was indeed a place of the lost, and he could not listen to the words of cheer spoken by his comrade. But at last when he came out of his despair, he perceived Jesus climbing up a narrow path in a cliff to the east on which fell the last light of day. Above the climber stood a shepherd who was calling his sheep. He spoke with Jesus, and together these two gathered some twenty of the flock and they made towards the narrow, sheltered part of the valley where lay Asaph.

Now when they were close to him Jesus said to the shepherd: "I heard the bark of a wolf as we came up the slope. Let us make haste, therefore, and lead these sheep into the fold."

And the howl of a wolf followed upon these words.

But the shepherd stood still and wrung his hands and cried: "Peril by day and peril by night; this is a country of robbers, wild beasts and demons, and is like unto hell."

"Call thy sheep before they scatter," commanded Jesus, "thou knowest their names. They will be safe in the fold."

But the fellow said: "I dare not call them. Come, let us hide in the cave of the cliff above&emdash;a sure place. Together we can roll a stone to the mouth."

"The shepherd does not desert his sheep," answered Jesus, and he laid hold of his coat.

"I am no bondman."

"Look to thy sheep."

"I am a hired man and I will not give my life for beasts of the field. Release me." And he struggled fiercely with the young Galilean.

As they swayed to and fro, like reeds in the wind.

Asaph saw two wolves at the head of the valley, and he trembled and crept behind a rock. When he looked again Jesus was saying: "Go, hireling." Then, breaking free, the faithless shepherd fled up the hill and disappeared round the bend of the cliff.

The two wolves came leaping down and up over rocks and boulders.

Jesus was a stranger to the flock, he knew not their names. So he shaped his mouth into a sweet-toned flute and made notes that were like the call of birds, sounding clear and sharp beneath those heights of stone. He went back upon the track, as the sheep, lifting their heads, followed him. Then when he halted and stood at the door of the fold, one by one they entered it obeying that flute-like whistle. Three of them had remained behind beside a tuft of grass. Jesus might well have left them and closed the door of the fold. But he went back and drove two some little way before him. Then he returned for the last sheep.

Already the first wolf had hold of its fleece while the other beast drew near, hastening up the slope. Jesus struck at the first with his staff and then turned, but too slowly; for the second wolf leaped upon his shoulder and flung him to the earth. Together they rolled upon one another, and it seemed to Asaph that his master had perished. But, suddenly, the black wolf lay still and Jesus stood up, his face and shoulders dropping sweat and blood.

Still holding his staff, he stumbled towards the sheep that was again set upon by the second wolf. Then, leaving it, the wolf came upon the wounded man&emdash;casting him to the earth.

Asaph rose and he, who through fear had been dumb for many years, now made loud, hoarse cries. Gathering stones he flung them at the wolf. Then being frightened by them the wild beast fled away down the valley, leaving behind him the hurt sheep and his brother wolf that had not stirred.

Asaph went to Jesus and discovered even in the dim twilight that he lay in a swoon. But in a little while he raised his head and whispered: "Tend the wounded sheep, close the door of the fold." Then he swooned again.

CHAPTER XXIII

JOEL, the owner of the flock, had stood in the cleft of a rock on the hill, and from this safe place, witnessed the battle for the sheep. In the last rays of the setting sun he had seen Jesus face the first wolf, had perceived him thrown to the earth. Later, in the afterglow, he had seen the stranger go back as to a sure death to save the last sheep; and he had marvelled at his courage. Possessing none himself, he waited a little while before going down into the valley where he discovered a distraught youth who wept and groaned, but could not speak in the language of men.

With darkness falling from the heights, there was need for haste, and Joel dragged the hurt sheep to the fold, and having put it there in safety, went back to the stranger.

Now Asaph was obedient to Joel's command, and together these two carried Jesus slowly along the track to the house which stood beneath the cliff. There Joel called his daughter, Esther. She washed the wounds of Jesus, putting balsam on them, binding them up and giving him wine.

So he came to himself; and though that night he had a fever, on the morrow Asaph perceived that all was well, and learned from Esther that in a little while his companion would be healed of the bites of the wolves.

Indeed it was not long before Jesus and Joel became friends, and this husbandman told his troubles to the stranger.

"My daughter's husband was killed by robbers," he said. "They came as ye did, asking for work or a night's lodging. Then, when we gave them shelter, they robbed us and slew Esther's husband. So from that time I turned all strangers from my door as I feared that they were thieves. Thus, it came to pan that ye received no welcome when ye asked for work." And then Joel prayed Jesus for forgiveness, and enquired in what manner he might repay his guest for having saved his flock from the wolves.

Jesus answered: "As a youth I walked with shepherds in Galilee and learned their lore; but I have never been one of them; and it is my desire to lead a flock, for I have understanding of the ways of sheep and would live with them upon the hills."

"It is a lonely life," answered Joel, "and if thou art a faithful shepherd thou wilt at times be in danger from the robbers and the wild beasts."

"I am not afraid of those who may assault the body," said Jesus, "and my desire is for solitude and a life apart from men. But I would have thee give other work to the man who was shepherd of thy flock. I would not displace him."

"He will not return," answered Joel, "for he is a man of many fears."

So it was agreed that Jesus should be shepherd and Asaph would dig in the ground for Joel and learn to, sow, plough and reap in his small piece of land.

And Joel was well pleased. For it was hard in that solitary place to find any man to work for little and be satisfied with the life of these people of the barren hills.

Esther had four small children, and her father had passed middle age. It seemed to them that Jesus was, sent by Jehovah to serve them, inasmuch as he was a good shepherd, and within a few days each sheep answered to the name he gave it. He was swift to discover pasture where the flock might feed&emdash;this was no easy thing among those rocky heights in winter-time. Also he had understanding of shearing and of lambing; and when the season came for them no lamb was lost. For night after night Jesus stayed with the ewes on the hills, and was as a father caring for them.

He instructed Esther's eldest son in the ways of the flock, causing him to know the sheep and love them.

Thus it was, that time passed, and out of sorrow and dark adversity, with the beginning of summer, Joel and his family came into their share of happiness and a peaceful life, unshadowed by their old-time fears. For if they spoke of this or that danger from sickness, robbers, wild beasts or the failure of corn&emdash;always Jesus laughed and made merry, comforting them, living in a sure contentment, believing as he did in their Heavenly Father.

Only on one matter was there division and anger on Joel's part. He was a proud man, easily provoked if anyone questioned his skill or knowledge of crafts and of the earth. He often spoke of the hard years of youth when he had come to this corner in the hills, cleared the ground, made among the rocks a green place and, with his own hands, built a fine house. That house was more beautiful to him than any dream is beautiful. He told of how he had raised it stone by stone and boasted of the cunning and artifice of its design and of his wisdom in choosing for it this high place.

"The whole valley can be seen from its door," he said, "so no robber, no wild beast can climb the steep way without my having knowledge of him; and veritably now that thou hast allayed my fears, I feel the master, living on this height as a king overlooking his kingdom, and only the cliff of the mountain rising above my dwelling."

"I am afraid for its foundations; it would be well to strengthen them," said Jesus. He bent down and took up a handful of earth and showed how the sandy soil crumbled between his fingers.

At first Joel derided these sayings. But when Jesus held to them he became very wrathful. Indeed he remained in a cloud of anger for three days, and all the household was darkened by it. Then Jesus journeyed to the plains where he found new pasture for the flock. When he returned Joel did not speak of the matter of their contention, and the two became friends again.

On those evenings the shepherd might leave his flock and abide in the house. He played with Joel's grand-children, told them stories till the hour of sleep, and Esther, a quiet woman, listened to him as she sewed and made a sheep-skin coat for the story-teller; and he shaped for her vessels out of rams' horns which held oil or wine. Together these two instructed Asaph, so in time he learnt to speak slowly but with sureness.

Sometimes when there was little work on the land he followed his master into the hills, and he perceived his skill in discovering green places that might nourish the sheep among those bare and boulder-strewn ways. While the flock was feeding, Jesus would often remain seated and was so still he might have been one of the stones on that hillside. But after a while he would rise from the ground coming out of that meditative quiet, walking to and fro, softly murmuring strange sayings. It was as if he conversed with some Great Being so that Asaph was lifted up, and it seemed that he was enfolded in the wings of a serene peace that gently carried him higher and yet higher. And when, after a time, he was back again and looked at Jesus, he saw a radiance about him, and his face shone with such divine peace this youth came at last to comprehend his saying&emdash;"The Kingdom of Heaven is not here or there; it should be within the man; and he who regards it as the treasure beyond price will give up all else and search the world until he find it."

Then Asaph knew why his master had journeyed into these lonely, barren hills, that for him at one time, had been filled with fears. Here, apart from man, away from strife, fretfulness, pain, that are always found in the cities, he might seek and surely find his Kingdom.

Asaph became a changed man and was no longer a weakling in spirit. His strength of heart and mind increased, and all that time he abode in the hills he knew brightness and a joy that no trouble in the after-time could wholly overcome and destroy.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE sun shone day after day for many weeks. In the season of grapes no rain fell; watercourses were dried up; grass withered; herbs perished before their time, and the earth was turned to dust. Jesus was compelled to lead his sheep to distant places and seek nourishment that would keep life in them, and he was hard set to find it. Then rain came suddenly, violently. The heavens opened, and for two days it was as if a flood fell from the skies. Leading his flock Jesus travelled slowly through it. But he was strong in his youth, and his noble spirit did not heed the hardship of the time. His skill and care saved his sheep in that season; and on the third day he put them all in fold and returned to Joel's house.

When he had eaten he went out again and perceived that the little stream in the cliff was swollen with rain and had become like a river, carving a new course past the house on its way to the valley.

"I fear its treachery," said Jesus, and he made a sign towards the soft crumbling earth. "There is danger for ye all," he continued, "if rain and wind come back from the north and west."

Then Joel, who was near by watching the flow of the flood, made answer: "I built the foundations with skill and cunning. No wind or water can prevail against them."

"I saw from the brow of the hill this morning signs of a coming tempest," was his shepherd's answer.

At this saying Joel turned with violence and hate on his face, uttering menaces and commanding Jesus to be gone from his house and take the road once more. So frightful were his oaths it was as if a devil had entered into him. But Jesus answered him not and went slowly away.

Afterwards he said to Asaph, who came with him: "It is fear that lies behind Joel's wrath. Heed him not, but return to his dwelling and watch. Behold, there is treachery in the changing winds."

The shepherd led his flock up the hillside so that they might eat. Towards noon the great wind rose, and as had been foreseen, came raging over hill and mountain seeking out the most sheltered comers. With it came dark clouds, and rain fell heavily, ceaselessly. Then Jesus led his flock to the fold and worked until nightfall making the place sure and building a shelter that might be a covering for man as well as for beast.

Like a mighty army shouting, the storm swept clamouring up the valley. The darkness was thick and deep, and Jesus remained with the frightened sheep, comforting them with his presence and the touch of his gentle hands. In the uproar of the tempest no man's voice might be heard; sound echoing and re-echoing from cliffhead to gully, from hill to hill.

At last, at cockcrow, the darkness began to lift&emdash;there were signs of day in the sky. So Jesus closed the door of the fold and went up the valley. It was as if all the demons of hell had been loosed through it and had come shrieking down its narrow way on the wings of that strong tumultuous wind.

The heavy noise of water falling in flood, broke upon the shepherd's hearing on the instant light stroked the hilltops of the east and brought forth a dull, strange day. In that dawn Jesus perceived Esther and the children who were gathered about her, and all were weeping as they clung to rocks and grass. But where Joel's comely house had stood there were only broken walls and heaped stones. The sand on which it had been built with care and skill, had crumbled before the onset of the flood which now swept down the valley.

Joel lay upon the ground groaning and beating his head. When Jesus spoke to him he made no answer but continued his crazy crying, and his shepherd knew his proud heart was broken.

He went to Esther and comforted the children, then led them to the shelter he had built in that past evening within the fold.

Leaving Asaph with them he returned to the head of the valley and sought to save Joel's stores and possessions from the waters. He bore back food to his family, and then the rain ceasing, in a little while he kindled a fire from some dry roots and wood he had saved. To this fire he led Joel who was silent now and as a dog dumbly obeying the words of his master.

In the winter that followed the husbandman and his family suffered hardship and tribulation. But Jesus and Asaph chose a great rock at the farther end of the valley. Day by day they laboured there when they were not minding the sheep or working in the green piece of earth that was Joel's.

At first Joel had been closed within himself&emdash;caught, in a hard grief, Then later, he spoke bitterly of the builders' work declaring that it would not avail, that all was vanity under the sun. He told Esther he would go into the wilderness and there hide his shame and his weariness. She was sore afraid, fearing his desertion of her and her children. But Jesus reasoned with this broken, bitter man. And though he would make no answer to his wise words, yet he did not go away on his promised journey.

After a while, as the walls of the house rose, Joel joined the builders. Saying nothing he dug and carried up wood and stone, often going to distant places where he might purchase seasoned timber, returning with it and offering it in silence to Jesus.

Thus it was, that in time a small house surely and safely welded to earth and rock, stood in the hollow of the hill, not far from the fold.

One evening at sunset, Joel came out of his long silence and said: "Master, I ask thy forgiveness for my folly and my violence. Behold, I would have thee accept half my possessions and live always in my home. For truly I am the foot and thou wilt always be the wise man building thy house upon a rock which may not be removed however winds blow and floods beat and break upon its foundations."

But Jesus smiled, saying: "I would not have thee ask forgiveness from me. Keep thy possessions for Esther and her children. I am a stranger and a wanderer, and the hour is at hand when I shall take my leave of thee and of this valley, which, verily, has been to me a refuge and a place where I have found my peace and my strength again. So I am greatly beholden to thee, friend, yea, and brother."

CHAPTER XXV

AT one time Asaph had served a builder in Caesarea Philippi, so he was a skilled mason and had raised strong walls and laid sure foundations. But Jesus had made crooked doorways and the woodwork within the house was roughly and curiously carved.

Joel mocked at him declaring that he found it hard to believe it to be the work of a carpenter's son. Jesus joined in the laughter against himself and said: "Some day I shall return to Nazareth and there learn to master my trade, for it is a shame to me to be mastered by it."

"The master of wise words is seldom the master of his hands," answered Joel, and he laughed again.

Indeed all were glad in that household because of the presence of the Master there.

The rain and the winter's cold passed from remembrance even as grief passes through healing time. Spring came in beauty, green things throve among the boulders and here and there in the rock-sown ways in those hills east of the Jordan.

The sun shone day after day out of a clear heaven, and when noon was come little clouds like silver ships, with fair, white sails, drifted from sky to sky.

It was on one of these days that Joel, who was customarily a slave to his task, deserted it and went forth wandering with his shepherd and the flock, delighting in his company. The son of the house, who was called Nathan, came with them; and showed to his grandfather his authority over the flock. At the bidding of their shepherd he summoned them name by name and they answered his call, leaving green pastures, obedient as if the youth were the leader of the flock.

Joel's happiness overflowed, and he declared that he was glad that he had lived to see this season. Indeed, Jehovah had blessed him abundantly in having bestowed on him the good shepherd who had crowned all their lives with joy.

Then Jesus drew him apart, and having sat down beneath the shadow of a rock, said: "In two days from now I must go on a journey from which I shall not return."

For Joel the skies went black, the earth darkened and he made great lamentation.

But Jesus continued: "It is time for me to return to the world of men. Here I live in Paradise, so I am strongly tempted to abide always with thee and thy children in the house on the rock. Nevertheless, my Father commands me and the world calls me&emdash;so shall my Father's will be done."

"Who will lead my flock?" cried Joel.

"Nathan, who is now a good shepherd and knows his sheep."

"Master," said Joel, "I would follow thee even to the ends of the earth. Yea, I will give up my family so that I may be with thee day by day, listening to thy words which are more beautiful than a song, lovelier are they than any I have ever known."

"What of thy house?" asked Jesus, "which is as the apple of thine eye. Art thou content to leave it also?"

Then Joel became troubled, and after a while spoke as a man who is doubtful and stands facing two roads: "I know not. Yea then, I will give it up and go with my shepherd into the world."

But Jesus answered: "And thy heart will ever return to thy house which is thy treasure. Nay, thy place is here. Also I know not yet my Father's purpose and will; and I fear the shadow that may fall upon him who follows me."

And Joel consented, but he continued sorrowful because of the coming loss of the Master.

Now there was a man named Abner who lived some distance from the house, and he coveted a young ram that was in the flock. That evening he came over the hills and down the slope, then climbed up into the fold.

Joel and Jesus had left the sheep with Nathan and gone to the house. When they had eaten, Jesus went back to release the youth from his charge.

Following him Joel said: "Master, my grandson is little more than a lad. Thou canst not desert thy flock for one who, because of his youth, will not be able for the care of sheep, and they will perish or be scattered and lost on the hills in winter-time."

But Joel knew that Jesus was proud of and loved his Sheep. And he believed his words had reached his heart because he made no answer to this saying. They drew near the fold at that end of day; and in the last light they perceived Abner who had dragged down the young ram from the fold.

Jesus bade Joel be silent and watch this robber.

Abner called the ram by his name, thus seeking to make it follow him. The ram would not answer to the stranger's voice, turning back&emdash;bleating towards the fold. So the thief leaped upon the beast and strove to bind its neck with a rope. But Nathan came out upon the edge of the slope that rose to the wall of the fold and called the ram home. And he broke free from Abner's grasp running up to the young shepherd, crying to him. Speaking gentle words he drew the frightened sheep into the fold.

Then the sun fell like a stone behind the mountain and darkness shut down upon the valley.

"Behold," said Jesus to Joel, "a good shepherd and the sheep answers his call but will not answer and follow the stranger, though he knows his name and summons him. Indeed, I may, with a mind at peace, leave my sheep in the charge of this youth who is born to be the leader of the flock."

And this time Joel made no answer. For he knew now that he might not keep Jesus with him, and he himself would not desert his treasure which was his home.

CHAPTER XXVI

THAT evening Joel told Jesus the story of his youth, His father, Nathan, had gone from Jerusalem and taken up life in Egypt where he lent money at usury and prospered for a time. But his prosperity was his undoing. He pressed a certain Roman, who was a man of authority, to pay him a large sum of money that was owing. This man caused his servants to invade Nathan's house at night and carry him and his son away into the deserts of southern Egypt and sell them as slaves to the chief of a fierce tribe.

Nathan was ill-treated and suffered great hardship, and at last, for some small offence he was slowly tortured to death before Joel's eyes. The lad was of tender years. After a while he escaped from these wild men, and being taken up by a caravan, travelled northwards to Alexandria.

Now he was always haunted by fear of the Gentiles and by the memory of his father's end, so he fled into Nathan's own land. There he believed he might live in safety from the Gentiles. But his fear gave him no peace in the cities. Having, through barter, gathered a little money, he went up into the hills east of the Jordan. And coming to this rocky solitary valley he found at last freedom from that terror which had been caused by the sight of his father's anguish, torture and slow death.

In Egypt he had been well instructed by his father. He continued to live in this lonely country, and in due course, when his daughter Esther's son came to the years when he might learn his letters, Joel taught them to him, though they were no part of the lore needed by the husbandman. So the young Nathan was not like other shepherds in those hills, ignorant and without knowledge of the world.

And after Joel had told the story of his life, Jesus said he had done well and that it was only in this place far from the world, he would find the peace of God. To each man his need.

Then Jesus was transformed; and all present knew him to be first among the prophets as he blessed the house on the rock, Joel, his daughter and children.

On the morrow when they rose at sunrise Jesus was not there. He had gone in the darkness before dawn, and thus spared them the pain of farewell.

In course of time Nathan's brother learned to be a shepherd and husbandman. So when the boy was grown Nathan asked Joel to release him and suffer him to seek out the Master. Joel was glad, and giving the young man his blessing said: "Go thou and find Jesus and entreat him to come home to us. He is not for the world, being not of the world. I fear, therefore, that if he live in it he will be hardly used and suffer many things. Yea, Nathan, go thou on the morrow and lead Jesus home."

The young shepherd, who had no knowledge of men, journeyed to Nazareth. There he was told that Jesus had gone into Egypt. Having money with him for the journey, he set out in haste for that land. When he came to it he searched here and there in vain. No man could give him tidings of Jesus. Howbeit, he was made welcome by his kinsmen who lived in Alexandria, and he stayed in their house.

While he was there a devout Jew and cousin to him, came from Bethsaida to that city. He was named Nathaniel. On the first day the two cousins of the same name encountered each other, their hearts were lifted up, for they were in spirit akin.

Nathaniel was the elder, and he taught Nathan, the shepherd, many things, instructing him in the hope and promise given to Israel.

"Some day the King who is the Son of God, shall come," he declared. "Then shall Israel be released from her long bondage, then shall our country no longer be defiled by the presence of the Romans who would lead our people astray and oppress us."

And because they had the same name Nathaniel was now called Bartholomew by his cousin. He showed the younger man in the Scriptures those sayings spoken by the prophets which foretold the coming of the Messiah.

So day after day those two kinsmen talked eagerly of when the Son of God would come and raise up Israel, their ancient race, once more. Then, on the day Bartholomew's mission in Alexandria was accomplished, he took Nathan with him on his homeward journey, and together they returned to his house in Bethsaida. There Bartholomew presented his cousin to those friends of his who were his disciples and listened to his discourses on the coming of the hope of Israel. They met in an upper room, and one named Philip was chief among them. He led the prayers they made for the speedy deliverance of Israel, and he it was who contended at times with Bartholomew as to the year in which the Messiah would come. In spite of their differences on this matter they were good friends. For they were united in their purpose to watch for the Son of God and in their longing that they might see and know him before age and feebleness came upon them.

But one evening after Nathan of the eastern hills had listened to the conversation of these two, he spoke of Jesus to his cousin. Philip had gone home; and on that warm, dark evening these two kinsmen were alone.

Nathan told Bartholomew of all the sayings and doings of Jesus from the day on which he had entered the valley and saved the sheep from the fierce wolves. Lastly, he related how he had looked for Jesus at Nazareth, and not finding him there had gone into Egypt. Then he said: "This Nazarite is pure as no other man is pure. He is mighty in spirit, and great and fine are his sayings." Some of these Nathan uttered and perceived that even to Bartholomew they were a marvel, and it seemed silenced him. For he sat there as one meditating, not moving eye or hand, fastened into that stillness when the spirit searches and seeks for truth.

And suddenly, in the close darkness of evening, it seemed to Nathan that light filled that chamber, and while thus stiffed and uplifted he cried out: "Revelation has come. Yea, verily, now I know and believe that this Jesus is the Son of God, the Son whose coming thou has spoken of day after day for all these many hours and weeks."

But Bartholomew frowned saying: "Thou hast called him a Nazarite?"

"Yea, he is of that town," answered Nathan.

"Then he is not the Messiah, for the people of Nazareth are the children of wantonness, and in past times they gave themselves up to folly and to the life of the present hour."

"It is a shame," answered Nathan, "to condemn a man because he comes from a certain land or town, because he springs from a tribe that hath no good name. A man should not suffer for the sins of his father, or be compelled to carry the burden of a mother's evil life. Good sons are born of harlots and virtuous daughters have been begotten by a father who hath surrendered himself to the devil."

Then Bartholomew disputed this thing. Because he was innocent and simple of mind he could not see that truth can be the first fruits of evil.

Wearying of this talk Nathan declared that on the morrow he would depart from Bethsaida and seek out the Nazarite who was veritably the Messiah. He blamed himself and his love for Bartholomew which had led him to give up his search for Jesus. Thus he had lost many months that might have been passed in the company of the Son of God.

Hearing these words Bartholomew became angry and said that the Messiah would be born of one of the great families in Jerusalem, that he might spring from a tons line of devout Pharisees or, what was more certain, he would be born of the spirit and be placed with one of those Rabbis, who like Hillel, had proved themselves worthy to receive and to cherish the King of Israel, the Lord of the World. Bartholomew was vexed with Nathan and hurt by his desire to depart instantly from his house. He spoke of his ingratitude. Ever after he mourned this hour of anger. But no more than the river can be made to flow backwards to its source, could he recall these unjust reproaches.

On the next day when Nathan would rise and set out on his journey to look for Jesus, he fell sick of a fever. It was the plague which, at that time, had caused many of the older generation to be gathered to their fathers. This time it smote Nathan, and, in the bloom of his youth, he withered away and died.

His cousin, Bartholomew, could not be comforted. The youth he had loved beyond all others had gone to the world from which there was no return. He only remembered his wrath and the bitter words spoken on that last evening when they had disputed together concerning the Nazarite.

Wherefore Bartholomew shut himself away from his neighbors. He would not even see Philip, his friend and companion. He put on sackcloth and ashes and cried:

Vanity of vanities, all is vanity."

At last one day, fearing for his master's health and reason, an old servant persuaded him to leave his house in which he had sat in darkness for forty days. It was a time when the heat of the sun parched up the earth and drained the air of all sweetness, strength or life. Bartholomew sat alone under a fig tree, and it seemed that in that fiery noon the shadow of death had fallen upon him. But he could not die. His spent spirit cried to God entreating for a sign, for some showing that he, Bartholomew, was not deserted, and life no vanity of vanities.

Towards sunset this travail of death passed. Suddenly, strangely, peace came and Bartholomew's prayer was answered. He knew that near him were two, and one was the angel of Nathan. He saw naught but learnt that all was forgiven because he had spoken without guile, out of the innocence and fervour of his belief to his cousin on that last evening they were together.

But the vision was broken, the lonely hour rent in twain. A man came hastening up the slope, his robe in disorder, his face alight with eagerness and joy. It was Philip, the sharer of Bartholomew's dreams and fears. He spoke in haste as if time might not wait upon his great tidings; and he told Bartholomew that he had found the King of Israel, the hope of Israel, the One foreseen by Moses and the prophets.

"His name?" asked Bartholomew.

"Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph."

Recalling his quarrel with Nathan, Bartholomew was troubled, and it was in bitterness of heart he answered with the Galilean proverb: "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?"

Philip took hold of his robe and cried: "Come and see."

Then being constrained by his friend, Bartholomew went with him down the slope. In a valley outside the town of Bethsaida they perceived Jesus who was speaking to Andrew and to Peter and other fishermen of Galilee.

As Philip approached the circle, Jesus rose, and making a sign to Bartholomew, he turned to those about him saying: "Behold an Israelite in whom indeed there is no guile." And other things he spoke, which revealed the past life and nature of this good man.

Philip was not astonished for already he knew that Jesus was the Son of God. But Bartholomew was amazed and cried: "Whence knowest thou me?"

"Before ever Philip called thee I saw thee under the fig tree," answered the Master.

Then Bartholomew perceived that it was the spirit of this Nazarite that had accompanied and perhaps been led by the angel of Nathan to him in his hour of bitter anguish, and had given of his own radiant peace in that time.

"Rabbi, thou art the King of Israel, the Son of God."

With these words Bartholomew bowed himself down in reverence before the Nazarite whose name he had scorned.

And Jesus having had communion with the angel of Nathan and learned from him this thing, took Bartholomew's hand and raised him up from the earth saying: "Thou didst believe because I saw thee under the fig tree. Behold, thou wilt witness greater things. The hour comes when thou wilt see the heavens opening and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man."

In thus speaking he would show Bartholomew that he was Son of Man as well as Son of God. From that hour Bartholomew was one of the Twelve Disciples, and after Pentecost when some of them visited other lands, he went to Persia and preached the Gospel to the people of that country.

This meeting of Bartholomew and Philip with Jesus happened in the days that followed the baptism of Jesus by John in the river Jordan.

CHAPTER XXVII

JESUS laid down his shepherd's staff, and in so doing bade farewell to the peace of the eastern hills. In company with Asaph he returned to Nazareth, and there he learned that his mother, Thomas and his family had gone to live in Cana. Houses were being built in that town and its neighborhood; so the carpenter followed his work.

But for Jesus, Nazareth was now neither empty of goodwill, nor its people at variance against him. Clopas and his wife welcomed their nephew to their home, and she told him that his enemies, the Scribe and the Pharisee and others of the older generation had all died from the pestilence. With their going went the memory of the scandal they had spread about Jesus. The generation that followed them were concerned with other matters and paid no heed to one of Joseph's sons. Indeed, the past had been blotted out of their memories by present strivings for bread, and by talk which had spread throughout Galilee that the Messiah was living in their midst and would shortly declare himself to the people.

James, the son of Clopas, desired to become a carpenter. So Mary, his mother, asked Jesus to instruct him in this trade, and together they might take the work that would have come to Thomas if he had lived there. James was the friend of Jesus in the days of his childhood, and now they renewed the old ties and happily worked together. Jesus had not the skill of his brother Thomas. But, together with Asaph and his cousin, he could make a livelihood as a carpenter.

His other cousins, Simon, Joses and Judas, worked in the fields. They were simple of mind and heart and were, therefore, held in some contempt by certain Galilean folk. For they could dig and sow but had little wit and were ignorant in all that concerned learning, the Law and the Prophets. Also they lived in the present hour. They would hire themselves for a time as husbandmen, then leaving their work, sought their enjoyment. Only when they were in rags and their mother laid empty plates before them, did they return to the toil of the fields. So the people of Nazareth made a proverb about the sons of Clopas saying: "An empty belly cures sloth."

This saying was spoken by the Galileans for many years after Clopas and his family were dust&emdash;their happy indolence forgotten by the folk of Nazareth. They lived indeed as the flowers of the field and were free of that servitude to toil which made slaves of so many men and stole from them gladness and their birthright, tranquility.

Now the family of Clopas lived in a small house but all, its inhabitants might come and go as they pleased, and no questions were asked, no yoke of observances and laws were laid upon the younger generation in that household by their parents. They had warmth of heart and a true understanding of the world, in which each soul must live in privacy if he would be at peace.

For Jesus, who dwelt among them, these were the days of silence. He kept himself apart from the people of Nazareth and would not converse with them. In matters of trade, James was the spokesman, his cousin the dumb carpenter. Now because Mary Clopas believed Jesus to be a master and prophet, she broke the rule in that household that was respect for the privacy of each one's world. Thrice she asked Jesus to heal the sick and each time he refused her request.

At last she reproached him, saying: "Thou art a man of many talents and hast become a miser hoarding thy great powers which should be at the service of the sick, the sorrowful and all who are in need of comfort.

Indeed Mary had a heart as wide as the hills and gave of herself generously to others.

"In a past time the people of Nazareth rejected me. What have I to do with them?" answered Jesus, and such sadness spread over his countenance Mary Clopas cast down her eyes. When she looked up again, the tools lay upon the bench, the workshop was empty. Only Jesus whistled sweetly like a bird in the garden without.

Jesus did not return till sunset. And after supper when Simon, Joses and Judas had gone out, he spoke to Mary, smiling and saying:

"I have been pondering over thy words. But this I see. A prophet is without honour in his own country."

"I do not ask thee for the sake of honour or any reward to give of thyself to the people," answered Mary. "But surely thy powers will be taken away if thou dost not use them?"

"Mine hour is not yet come," said Jesus.

Then Mary prayed him to teach and heal in his own time in Nazareth again. She declared that she had always believed in him as One set apart for a high purpose and she spoke the words of the Angel who had visited his mother before his birth. She ended her entreaty with the words: "Charity begins with thy neighbors. Wherefore I pray thee prophesy to them rather than to the stranger."

At last Jesus yielded to her persuasion and agreed to put the people of Nazareth first when his Heavenly Father had revealed his purpose to him.

From that day she did not question or importune the one who was dearer to her and lovelier in her sight than any of her children or even Clopas her husband. Indeed she strove to shelter Jesus and kept from him those two or three neighbors, who, remembering his healing powers, came seeking him.

In those days Simon, Joses, Judas and James did not always attend the synagogue on the Sabbath and chose at times to rove about the hills when they should, if they were devout, be at worship.

Sometimes Jesus went with them, and he told Asaph that from these simple husbandmen, who were neither eloquent nor quick of wit, he had learned much. For he perceived that they took no thought for the morrow, that they sought not by working early and late to lay up treasure for themselves, that they worshipped the Lord, their God, as surely from the height of Tabor as from within the walls of the synagogue.

They did not deserve the reproach of slothfulness, inasmuch as when they seemed to idle they lived joyfully and to the full, hurting no man, and being courteous to all. But they kept to themselves and were a byeword among the industrious husbandmen who lived about Nazareth. In time Jesus was counted as one of them, and they were known as the five brothers. So, in the after-time, many strangers believed that Jesus was one of their family.

CHAPTER XXVIII

NOW the brother of the robber Chief, whom Jesus had healed, was called Judas Iscariot. He belonged to what came to be known as the Sicarii, a band of Zealots. Before he had been healed by Jesus of his grievous wound, his whole mind and heart had been given up to hatred of the Romans and the yoke they set upon the people of Israel. But after the departure of Jesus from the caves his gracious presence remained. Judas could not, though he strove to do so, exorcise this memory of the strangest man he had ever known. Even if dangerous ventures and long journeys made in the service of the Zealots, occupied him day after day, still the presence of Jesus was not banished, and his wise words again and again troubled or roused up doubt and question. So into whatever town or village Judas went he asked for Jesus and questioned other Zealots as to whether they had tidings of such a man. But they had none to give.

The meeting-place of these two was not among men, it was on the slope of Tabor in the hour Jesus sought communion with his Heavenly Father.

Judas had come a long journey. But it was his mind not his body that was weary. So looking on the kindly, welcoming mountain he thought of the ancient chronicles of Israel and of what Tabor had seen, and it drew him from the road. Leaving his mules with his servant he climbed the hill, for he believed that from its summit, he would perceive old battle-fields that recalled to memory the glory of Israel. Thus his mind might be refreshed and discontent banished from it.

But suddenly there came a man from behind a rock some few paces from the climber. He stood still as a stone so that it seemed almost as if he were part of the hill behind him.

Swiftly Judas remembered that face and came running up the slope crying: "Master, Master, I have found thee at last."

"Call me not Master," answered Jesus and turned away

For a while there was silence between these two. But when, at last, Jesus lifted up his eyes, he saw that the young man's face was sad. So he went to him and took his hand saying: "I gave thee no welcome, Judas. I spoke harshly because I know that thou art come to steal my peace from me."

"In this world of injustice and tyranny, peace is the refuge of the coward," was the bold answer.

Jesus smiled and said gently: "Thou has never known peace; the meaning of the word has not yet been revealed to thee."

Judas hung his head, his soul pierced by the truth of this saying. Pitying him Jesus spoke comfortable words, leading him to tell of his past life and dreams.

First they sat down and spoke of old times&emdash;the days of the insurrection of Juda, the Gaulonite, and Judas related the story of his father who was known as "Simon, the Holy Man", because the Galileans revered him for his pure and blameless life. He had taken no part in the insurrection, but had led certain of the rebels to a cave in the hills where he hid them from the Roman soldiers. Now it was his custom daily to carry food to these men, and a treacherous Galilean followed him and then betrayed him to the Romans. He was tortured day after day, but not suffered to die. Nevertheless, nor agony led him to disclose the hiding-place of the Gaulonites. At last his entrails were torn out in the presence of his wife and children. Thus for ever was his death and suffering branded on the memory of Judas. From that hour he kept before him one purpose only, the deliverance of Israel from the oppressor. He had not, like his brother the chief, been a robber or slayer of men. When still little more than a boy he had gone to Jerusalem and worked there early and late until he had gathered together a goodly sum of money. For he would be free from the cares of life so that he might travel from city to city and build up a secret community, the members of which were sworn to raise the banner of revolt when the time was ripe and the man who would be leader and king had shown himself to the people.

"And now, Jesus," said Judas, "I would have thee fulfill thy promise and return with me to the Way of the Sea. For there we shall consult with my brother concerning he who is to come, and I would have thee as my comrade and peradventure a leader of the people in a future time."

"But thy brother is a robber," answered Jesus, "and I am a man of peace. Ye would draw me into your world of violence and of death. I would remain in my world, the humble carpenter, finding and keeping what is greater than any earthly kingdom, the Kingdom of Heaven."

"Thou seekest thine own then and art not concerned for others."

"I shall share the Kingdom," said Jesus, "after the years of meditation with the people who have the desire for it. Thou art not one of these."

Then Judas was cast down&emdash;troubled because he loved Jesus and, therefore, desired to bend him to his purpose, to make him the wise counsellor of the Zealots, the name by which the band he had created, was known. All the graciousness of that golden evening passed on Tabor was sullied by this withdrawal of Jesus, by his rejection of the plan for the liberation of Israel. But Judas was a man not easily turned from his purpose. So he parted from Jesus only when the Master had promised to meet him on Tabor in three weeks time, the day he returned from the Way of the Sea and his conversation with his brother the chief.

PART II

CHAPTER XXIX

Judas Iscariot had a friend named Simon who was little of stature, plain of countenance, and no man heeded him. He loved Judas with a jealous love, obeying him in all things, listening hour after hour to his talk and plans for the deliverance of Israel. These two men were in most things different&emdash;the one timid and easily cast down, the other bold and resolute: the one gentle as a woman, the other of a dark and passionate humor. Judas had great shoulders, was tall and magnificent in bearing, so Simon called him the "Prince of Judaea" or the "Lion of Judaea". In some ways Judas was not like the lion, for he was not customarily generous; being careful with monies, exacting the value of the last farthing. But he had no meanness of soul, his carefulness with money sprang from the days of his youth when he had starved and been an outcast after his father's death. Also he never gathered money for himself, it was for the commonweal and for the release of the poor from the rich man's tyranny. Hard and passionate, he was drawn to Jesus by his gentleness and kindness, which sprang out of a greater strength than that possessed by him who was to be counted as the Twelfth Disciple in the days to come.

One morning in early summer four men came to the appointed meeting-place on Mount Tabor. They were Judas, Simon, Jesus and Asaph. Simon had come unwillingly and only because of his jealousy of the stranger, a Nazarite who had won the homage of his friend Judas. Indeed it seemed to Simon that this Jesus would take his place and become the one friend Iscariot possessed. For Simon well knew that the Prince of Judaea had room in his mind and heart for one man only at a time. He was here, therefore, on Tabor an hour after sunrise so that he might, having seen the Nazarite, speak against him and thus detach him from his friend.

He saw, leaning against a tall rock known as Israel's Spear, a man of middle height and slender build. This man was not comely like Judas and had not his shapeliness. But when he smiled, greeting the two friends, Simon perceived a strangeness, a loveliness he had never known in all his life. His dark eyes, his thin face and brown beard might not have been observed in a multitude as Judas would be observed. But all the radiance of the Spirit was in those eyes and the comfort of all sorrow in that glance. Simon could not speak because of the troubled wonder this man roused in his heart when he greeted him. But his words were a revelation that, in an instant, removed jealousy and hurt pride. Jesus said:

"I know, Simon, that thou hast only one friend and he is Judas. I pray thee always remain his friend for he has more need of thee than thou hast of him. I perceive that thou hast been troubled, fearing the loss of this friendship. But only death will separate the one from the other."

Then Judas approaching, Jesus ceased speaking, and Simon knew that this Nazarite, who had discerned his jealousy, would not break but would seek to strengthen his friendship with Judas.

After a few words of greeting these four men sat down in the shadow of Israel's Spear. They gazed as on a great green sea&emdash;the plain of Esdraelon. Then looking to other quarters they perceived hills and forests, a world of peace that seemed to Asaph, as he told Mary Clopas later, far from plans of war and dreams of violence. But Judas did not receive this peace into his soul. He spoke at great length and eagerly of a meeting which would be held in the desert near Jericho. Here would come two or three chosen Zealots from each city in Judaea and Galilee, and they would confer with the chief and determine the hour of revolt against Roman rule.

Jesus listened in silence until Judas had ended this long discourse. Then he said: "What of Juda, the Gaulonite? He who takes up the sword perishes by the sword."

"Juda rebelled against authority before the time was ripe," answered Iscariot. "His followers were poor folk, ignorant and without knowledge of war, and they carried rude weapons that were of no avail against armed might. But our people are well provided with weapons and have been trained to use them. They are soldiers, not herdsmen and men of the fields." Then he prayed Jesus to come with him to the gathering of the Zealots near Jericho.

This time the Master did not reject his invitation, but asked Judas if it were wise to bring violence into this world of peace, and he raised his hand pointing to Esdraelon and to the smiling hills and valleys.

And Judas answered him, speaking with eagerness, telling of his plan for Galilee, Samaria and Judaea when these provinces made one kingdom freed from Roman rule. He would so order the community, there would be no rich and no poor. He who amassed wealth would pay great taxes which might buy bread for those who had none. Men would not make up one nation but one family, and this family would be united, having most things in common. Those who were industrious should have some small reward that placed them above their fellows, but only as the price of their work. Judas claimed that the workers should have the produce of their labour though provision would be made for the old and the sick. "Thus, Master," he said, "all will have enough. Sorrow, hardship and hunger will be no more known in our land, and only thus can the Kingdom of Heaven, of which thou hast spoken, be brought to earth. But we cannot do this thing so long as we are in bonds to Rome. Master, this kingdom is now but a dream in thy mind, and it will remain a dream unless we strike this blow and deliver Israel out of the hands of the heathens who love only riches and exact tribute, making slaves of men for their pleasures."

"My Kingdom is not of this world," answered Jesus. "The world is with us early and late," cried Judas, "and government shapes our conduct. Through his laws the wise ruler creates a virtuous people who observe the law of God and walk in His ways. But for this end we must have power."

"The power-dream&emdash;the kingdom of this world," murmured Jesus.

Not heeding him Judas continued: "I cannot win men's hearts. I stand alone, unloved. The birds flee from me and children break and scatter from my path. But men love thee, Jesus. So if we two were one we would have all Judaea in a flame. The people would make every sacrifice and follow us to the death. Rome's might could not overcome such a nation."

"But we two are not one."

"We shall be together," was the answer. "Jesus as prophet, Judas as lawgiver in the coming kingdom of Judaea. Only two are required for government, two great souls, and we are those two. Behold, we shall conquer and make our own all the kingdoms of the world through the ensample of our wisdom in the ruling of Judaea."

Many other words Iscariot uttered on that day on Tabor in early summer, when hope and desire seemed to spring from, and illumine, all life.

Near sunset he ceased speaking, for suddenly Jesus consented to go with him to Jericho where they would meet the leaders of the Zealots and plan the manner and the time of the insurrection against Roman rule.

Having won his way, Judas became silent, and in a little while the four men parted, going their different roads.

In the evening Jesus told Mary Clopas all that had been said on Mount Tabor that day. And this good woman became troubled and spoke of the danger of such a meeting near Jericho, of the folly of such an enterprise as a revolt against Rome.

When she had finished Jesus said: "Judas stands alone, unloved. I would cast out a devil, change his soul so that the birds do not flee from him or the children scatter from his path. Wherefore I go down to Jericho."

"There can be no change in his soul. The man of bate and violence, however noble his purpose, always betrays the people," answered Mary Clopas; then sighing, held her peace.

CHAPTER XXX

JESUS would not yield to Mary's entreaty that he should remain a carpenter of Nazareth. Two weeks after the gathering on Tabor he set out for Jericho with Asaph as his companion. On that journey he did not talk freely as was his wont, telling parables or singing the old songs of Israel. His brow was dark and his speech "yea" or "nay." So Asaph believed that there was conflict in his mind and spoke of it to Simon the Zealot when they met him, as had been appointed, beside a cliff in a desolate land.

And Simon said: "Thy Master weighs all things many times before he chooses his measure. But we are without doubt that the scales will fall on our side and he and Iscariot will be our leaders in the insurrection, and afterwards the rulers of God's Kingdom. The chief, Iscariot's brother, will be like Joab, the commander of the King's army, and I shall serve Judas, the lawgiver."

Then Simon went to Jesus and bade him follow him. Together these three walked through a wilderness of baked rocks split in many places by the sun's rays, which burnt up all this land. No green thing flourished. There was no water anywhere, and no dew fell from heaven to gladden the traveller and lift up his fainting spirit. It was as the Kingdom of Beelzebub, the Kingdom of the Lost.

In a lonely place, known to few men, some thirty Zealots gathered together and consulted with Iscariot and the chief. The chief had a price on his head and was looked for by the Romans throughout Judaea.

As the Zealots talked Asaph whispered to Simon:

"Judas has boasted overmuch of his trained army."

Indeed there were weapons enough but few men of war who could wield them with skill in battle. Even though they might be without skill; faith and self-sacrifice, it was maintained, would strengthen a devoted people in the hour of revolt. For a long while these Zealots debated this matter. At last Judas wearied of it and asked for silence. He told them of those things he had said to Jesus on Mount Tabor, and suddenly pointing to him he cried:

"Behold your prophet and king. Here is a man who works miracles of healing with his hands. He brought me back from the great door of death. Here is a man who works miracles through the eloquence of his speech. In the caves of the Valley of Doves he won all our comrades, wild men though they be. Let him, therefore, in the coming year go to every city in Judaea preaching the Kingdom of Heaven. Then, when all our people know him as prophet and master, we shall make the call for revolt. And with a nation behind us we shall establish this Kingdom of Heaven on earth through driving the Romans into Egypt, through casting the last heathen out of our land. Behold the Messiah-King."

Then all the Zealots shouted, approving this choice of Jesus, asking Judas to be lawgiver and the chief to be first man in battle.

But Jesus protested, demanding, entreating a hearing. And wearying they at last prepared to listen to his words.

He stood upon a rock looking down on them, and his face was sad.

"Brethren," he said, "hearken, for ye know me not. Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God. This power-dream corrupts the understanding, yea and it drives men mad." Here he looked at Judas, and then spoke out boldly:

"Let ye all disperse quietly to your homes and abide there obeying your rulers. Judas has misunderstood my Gospel. The Kingdom of Heaven can be established on earth only through a change of heart in each man and woman. Ye will fail if ye seek to establish it through laws and observances. For verily, it is of God, and those who are children possessing that Kingdom, possess it even if they are bondmen and subject to the heathen and men of war."

"Thou has betrayed me," said Judas, and so great was his wrath his speech came not with any ease. But he cried: "I should have known… thou art a Nazarite, poor in spirit, contemptible in the eyes even of the Galileans."

"Then blessed are the poor in spirit," answered Jesus, "for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven."

So angry now were the Zealots it might have gone ill with Jesus if it had not been for the cry of a watcher on a hill. He came running down the slope towards the gathering, making signs, showing that the meeting-place had been discovered.

Soon the Zealots perceived the glint of light from the helmets of Roman soldiers as the sun's rays played upon them. And they advanced spreading themselves out so as to make a circle about these doomed men.

Swiftly they scattered, the greater number running to a cave which led them through a hill and to an opening on the other side beyond the circle of steel made by the Romans. Of them all only Jesus remained on that cliffside.

Six soldiers came round the wall of rock and perceived the fleeing Zealots in the valley below. They were met by a man who bore no arms and held out his hands to them in greeting.

"Who art thou?" cried the first soldier.

"A carpenter and a man of peace," answered Jesus.

Looking on his face and perceiving its serenity, the second soldier cried: "This fellow is not one of them. Come, let us hasten and we shall capture the foxes as they make for their holes in the hills." He pointed to the mouth of the cave into which passed the Zealots hurrying to enter it and be no more seen from the cliffside.

Then the soldiers went forward; and others who passed later, only perceived a kneeling man by the wayside, and as their first comrades had not broken in upon his prayers they went by not questioning him or disturbing his peace. For they had orders to show respect to holy men who might be under the protection of the Pharisees in Jerusalem or Herod, the friend of Rome.

Soon there were shouts and groans echoing from cliff to cliff, and the Angel of Death passed down that valley. Fifteen or more Zealots were slain before the old quiet fell upon it, before the Roman soldiers, still pursuing the fugitives, left the dead in that region to vultures and other birds of prey.

The sun was setting when at last, after much search, Jesus came upon the body of Asaph. Blood flowed from a spear thrust in his side. He lay as if asleep. But his Master knew that his spirit had passed.

And after a little while, when he had commanded his grief, he looked about for some pocket of earth in that stony place wherein the sleeper might rest.

It was then that Simon greeted Jesus. He had been spying upon him, afraid till now to hail one so stricken, whom Judas, his best friend, had betrayed into this violence.

"Master," said Simon, "let me aid thee to carry Asaph into the cleft in the rock."

"Yea, brother," answered Jesus, "he can rest there, and we will shelter his bones from the birds of prey by placing great stones over him."

Thus these two buried the young man who had followed Jesus from Caesarea Philippi and dwelled with him as a shepherd and in Nazareth.

CHAPTER XXXI

AT moonrise Jesus and Simon set out for Jericho. Even in that gentle light the wilderness was a country of terror. Jackals and hyenas cried and sometimes their shapes were seen shadowily on the high ridges of stone. Ravines and overhanging cliff took on hideous shapes that were imminent with menace and the spirit that destroys. For Jesus and Simon these surroundings were as a close prison in which their souls were confined and a prey to a deep despondency.

There came a moment when they could go no further. Staggering, they lay down upon the ground. Then, despite the danger from the starved hyenas, they found rest in blessed sleep which renewed the spirit at the fount of being. It seemed that angels guarded these broken men, and no beast disturbed their slumber.

When they woke to a new day they were refreshed in body and mind and prepared to face the road once more.

Jericho was not far off. It lay in a deep pit and was like a green emerald set within brown wastes, grooved and channelled, waterless, ever solitary&emdash;a miracle of life enclosed in a land of death, a land wherein men had wandered and become crazed with thirst or possessed by the demons.

"Here, indeed, is temptation," said Jesus.

"And behold, there in Jericho is paradise," said Simon.

Then they went down the hill and passed by wide orchards of oranges, figs and melons. Thickets of palms offered shelter and repose; but the two travellers hastened forward.

In the city was a certain house which was the meeting-place of the Zealots. Its owner, Zecharias, might give them tidings of any fugitives who had escaped the sword of the Romans. It would offer shelter from the heat of noon, food and refreshment after a long fast.

Their host told them that only one Zealot had come to the house in the middle part of the night. It was Judas Iscariot, who even though spent, was filled with hate and wrath because his brother, the chief, lay among the slain. He had not dared to wait and hide his body from the beasts of prey among the stones, but had fled to Jericho. Then, after three hours rest, he had risen up and gone out to warn certain comrades for whom the Romans might make a search in the town. There had been treachery and Judas believed that the betrayer of the meeting-place in the wilderness had also informed the authorities of others who were in the conspiracy.

While Jesus and Simon ate and drank, Zecharias told them these things and said that Judas would return at noon when they could hold speech with him.

But hearing this Jesus rose from the table and said to Simon, "follow me." Then taking leave of his host, Simon went out after the Master who walked swiftly through the streets and made no halt until he came to a grove of palms that offered shade to travellers beyond the town.

It was on the borders of the ground about Herod's Palace. At this hour men slept in their houses because of the great heat, so the grove was deserted and Jesus sat down under a tree, and for the first time since the slaughter of the Zealots, opened his heart to Simon.

He spoke of many things, most of all of this evil dream of power which caused men to torture, burn and slay, and he said: "Having seen this misery and waste of men's lives, the prophet of old ended his preaching with the words, 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity'. And I say unto you such scenes as we witnessed yester-eve have led me to believe that, only through withdrawal from such a world, may we preserve our souls and walk in God's way. Once I spoke with a prophet who sought that way through living on a mountain far from men. I shall seek, therefore, the truth in solitude also. For verily I am shaken to the depths of my soul by the loss of Asaph. His was a stunted growth, but my words were the bread of life to him. And when I had made a shapely plant that flourished and lived joyfully, in an instant it was hewn down by violence and destroyed. I am very sorrowful for my brother, Asaph. We must, part, Simon, and I shall seek to find the answer to the Preacher's despair in a far country."

"I would follow thee, Master, to the world's end," cried Simon.

"Nay," said Jesus, "Judas has sore need of thee. Here is the test of friendship. Behold, Judas is a proud man struck down, his dreams broken and shown to be worse than vanity&emdash;evil because they were builded on hate and desire."

And Simon protested, praying to be suffered to accompany Jesus in his wanderings. At last the Master spoke his command sternly, so that the young man durst not disobey him.

Then for a little while these two prayed together. When they had finished Simon said: "I am prepared to go now to the house of Zecharias. But tell me, Master, hast thou any word I should bear to Judas?"

Jesus answered: "Yea, say to him the Son of Man is not come to destroy men's lives but to save them."

"And is that all I shall tell Judas?" enquired Simon.

"It is enough," answered Jesus. "Lo, since the beginning of time men have worked contrary to these words. And verily, until all men observe them no Kingdom of Heaven will reign in the hearts of the multitude. But the peoples' hearts will be heavy and filled with cares because of the ever present menace of power and greed." Then Jesus bade Simon keep secret all that had passed in these last days. "Tell no man of the gathering of the Zealots in the wilderness," he said, "nor of the slaughter of the innocents. For some were innocent being ignorant, and so were led astray by the man of power, Iscariot."

In the years that followed Simon as well as Judas faithfully observed this command. These two men were, as shall be related, chosen as disciples by Jesus. But they held their peace and did not tell any of the other ten disciples the story of the massacre in the wilderness or of the plan of Judas to make Jesus the King and himself the lawgiver of Israel.

To no disciple did Jesus impart these things either. For he would not set them against Judas and Simon. Indeed, Jesus told Simon that he would save Iscariot from a devil, and for a time he did so. It was only at the last that the Adversary overcame Iscariot and prophecy was fulfilled.

CHAPTER XXXII

IT was the evening following the Sabbath. The sons of Clopas were abroad on the hills. Mary sat alone at the door of her house resting after the day's toil.

A man covered with the dust of the road came up the slope towards her; and when he drew near she perceived the stricken look upon his face. So asking no questions she led this spent traveller into the house. In silence she fetched water and washed his feet, in silence she laid bread and fish before him and fetched wine that might restore his strength.

When he had eaten and drunk he thanked her with a smile, but held his peace. Another woman would have taxed him with this silence and demanded an account of his journey. Observing the weariness of his face, the sorrow that aged it by ten years, she forebore to ask those things she desired to know.

Then Jesus went out and she did not see him again until the next evening when she was alone. And again she gave him to eat and drink and respected his sorrow, asking nothing for herself. But she was cast down when Jesus took up the staff of the traveller, put on the traveller's shoes, then went to the door.

She could no longer forebear and ran to him crying:

Tarry awhile, Jesus. Go not on another journey until I have filled a wallet with food and mended the latchet of thy shoe."

Mary Clopas yearned to learn of the dangerous enterprise of which he had told her before he went down to Jericho. But being a good mother she only asked him to let her make provision for another journey.

It seemed then as if her words waked Jesus from some dark dream. He turned back and came over to her and said: "I am thankful to thee for having permitted me to come and go and for having suffered me to remain silent. For I could not, in an earlier time, speak to thee of my grief, so sorely was I smitten by it."

Then she learned of the day of bloodshed, and, as she afterwards told Clopas, perceived that this, the first violence Jesus had witnessed, had stolen from him all brightness, all youth. He was shaken in his faith in men and so overcome he told her that he would leave his own race and country and go into Egypt, so that he might not be drawn into further violence by the Zealots and might, peradventure, find the answer to the words of the Preacher: "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity". If he found that this saying were true, then Jesus declared that he would withdraw from the world, and living in some mountain cave, would become a hermit who sought God in prayer and silence and had no further traffic with men.

Jesus was dearer to Mary Clopas than any of her own sons. Her heart too full for speech, she put food in a wallet, gave it to him with the blessing of the road and kissed his cheek.

Then he went out into the moonlight; and long time after he was gone from sight she watched the path he had taken that led to the west and to Gentile lands.

Later, when Clopas returned from Nazareth, she told him that Jesus had gone into Egypt, that he had witnessed the slaughter of innocent men, and it were better he should not for a while remain in Galilee, and that they must keep silence on the matter for fear of the authorities. And to this Clopas agreed.

CHAPTER XXXIII

PHARISEES, Sadducees and Essenes each worshipped God after their own fashion. In the time Jesus walked in Galilee, the Essenes were to the number of three or four thousand. Some dwelled in the cities, yet remained a people apart. Others lived in communities on the land, and a few sought God in the desert places.

They put Pharisees and Sadducees to shame through the nobility and purity of their lives. They did not speak hardly against any man, but among themselves they debated concerning the practices of Pharisees and Sadducees and condemned the offering of beasts in sacrifice in the Temple of Zion. They did not believe that outward rites and observances were all that was required by God. But one practice, besides prayer and fasting, was precious to them. They were careful in the cleansing of the body and washed many times daily. This was the outward sign of the inward purity, that whiteness of soul which they believed led them after death to journey swiftly to the happy isle, to Paradise in the farthest west.

The Essenes uttered no profane or worldly words before sunrise. In the dark hour that precedes dawn, wherever they might be, they knelt and prayed till the sun rose when they sang the Song of Eternal Light&emdash;that Light that proceeds from the Godhead and, in majesty and beauty, nourishes all life. But they held in particular to this practice of prayer and communion with God before sunrise, because they believed, that whatever the hour of death, the souls of the faithful journeyed to Paradise when the outward sign of Light Eternal breaks in glory over hill and valley. To these good people, therefore, the hour of sunrise was holy&emdash;a time indeed to bid God-speed to the traveller, who has been released from the flesh and the evil of the world, which they wholly condemned and sought to flee from during their lifetime.

Pharisees and Sadducees hated these children of light. But their armor of virtue might not be pierced. So, however eager these worldly men were for their destruction, they could find no way of assault that would overcome them and break up their communities.

On the steep side of a hill not far from Jericho and built into a rock, stood the house of the hermits. Many years ago two young men named Shammai and Enoch had called some few of these faithful together and had bidden them flee from the evil of the towns and seek righteousness before too late in the desert places.

For some time they wandered in the wilderness a prey to hunger and thirst. But at last, like Moses and Aaron, Shammai and Enoch discovered the land promised them in vision by Jehovah.

From a cave in the midst of a barren land leaped a spring which they named the "Water of Life". It was never dry, and it nourished the stony hillside which the brethren cleared, so far as they were able, and planted a vine and fig trees thereon between high ridges of rock. Then, slowly and with toil, they built the Home of the Faithful which became famed beyond any other belonging to their sect. For Shammai and Enoch, after meditation and prayer, shaped right rules of thinking and conduct and caused them to be observed, so that those brethren they governed led lives wholly blameless that were an ensample to the disciples in other communities. They despised riches and shared all things in common. Knowing of this when he was a youth, Jesus told Mary Clopas that some day he would visit the Essenes and learn of their way of life.

So it came to pass that, in the early summer at the hour of sunset, Shammai, who stood among the vines and directed the labour of the brethren, perceived in the valley a traveller approaching, and he was stumbling as if overcome with weariness. Quickly the sage despatched two of the younger brethren to greet and succour this man. They lifted his fallen body and carried it up the winding path to their home on the cliffside.

After a while this traveller opened his eyes in the coolness of the large chamber where they had laid him. Having been refreshed by their herbs and cleansed of the dust of the road, he spoke and declared his name&emdash;Jesus of Nazareth. Then Shammai bade the brethren return to their work and their prayers for, as he afterwards told Enoch, he was strangely moved by the speech and bearing of this young Galilean.

He was a man of dignity and great age, and his tone of authority might not be rejected. Soon Jesus was opening his heart to him and telling him of his plan to go into Egypt.

"Why journey to the country of the heathen where there is neither peace nor any sure way whereby communion may be held and secured with the Blessed," Said Shammai. "I perceive, young man, that thy soul is heavy and that thou hast been struck down by the wickedness of the world. In a far time, like thee I, too, witnessed scenes of violence, which led me to seek God in this barren place that hath been made fruitful for us. I saw men tortured and slain by the Romans and I hearkened to the lip-service offered by the Pharisees to these men of power. Wherefore I knew that only by withdrawal from the world might I preserve my soul and those of others from the evil that will always prevail in the world of men&emdash;prevail until the Messiah cometh."

Then Jesus asked if he might become a brother in this community of the Essenes and pass his life in this valley: "Where, verily, I believe I shall find and keep the Kingdom of Heaven."

For a while Shammai made no answer as he searched the young man's face with his eyes. When, at last, he spoke, his words were not those of welcome and encouragement.

"My spirit tells me," said Shammai, "that there is in thee some strange power that will lead thee away from us, draw thee back to the world. So I am perplexed, not liking to forbid thine entry into our Order but knowing through foreknowledge that thou art not one of us; that strange and awful happenings lie about thy path through life. Wherefore, fearing that our peace might be destroyed, I hesitate to ask thee to remain with us."

Then Jesus became sorrowful. Perceiving his distress Shammai cast from himself the mantle of foreknowledge and told his guest that he might abide in that house three days and nights, and after that time he would receive his answer.

So for those three days and nights Jesus lived among the Essenes, following their way of life. He rose before sunrise and prayed till that hour when light came and all joined together in the song of praise and worship. He washed in the stream four times during the day and ate with the brethren in the large chamber and hearkened to the reading of the Scriptures by Enoch. He worked in the vineyard, and each evening washed the white robe which had been given him to wear. The hours of prayer were observed by him and he was indeed zealous, not falling asleep as was the wont of some of the brethren in the heavy heat of noon. Soon, by reason of his strangeness and a certain radiance which the rule of silence could not quench, he became the beloved of the faithful" as these Essenes were called.

In the hour after sunrise on the fourth day, Enoch voiced the desire of the brethren when he prayed Shammai to permit Jesus to become a member of their community, or, at least, be suffered to abide there for three years and tried and tested that they might know if he could continue for life in their Order.

Shammai answered: "I am not consenting to this thing. But as it is the will of the brethren so be it."

Then all the Essenes of that community were glad, and in their presence Jesus spoke the words of the first vow.

"I shall be true and faithful in my dealings with all men, more particularly I shall obey those in authority, for God has appointed them to rule over me."

Then prayers were uttered, the brethren put a white robe on Jesus, and thus he began his noviciate.

That evening when Enoch walked in the garden with Shammai, he asked him why he condemned Jesus.

"I do not condemn him," answered the sage, "but I fear him, for my spirit tells me he comes not to bring peace but a sword. Lo, when I lay in trance I perceived Jesus in the midst of a multitude and among scenes of tumult and violence. My heart was broken by the hurt and pain of such cruelty as I witnessed. So, because I esteem Jesus I am troubled and will remain troubled while he lives in our community."

Enoch made no answer; but afterwards he reported to Jesus the words, "He comes not to bring peace but a sword", and he asked for their denial.

But Jesus shook his head and said: "I cannot perceive for thee what lies before me. In the past my ways have not been reconciled to the ways of other men. What I have done has roused up anger at times, jealousy at times, and even when men declare their love for me as in the case of Judas, it has led to violence. Wherefore I desired to withdraw from the world and find my peace here. For it is said that the Essenes are ministers of peace and faithful to the end."

Perceiving the young man's trouble, Enoch sought to comfort him, saying that, here in the wilderness he would, under the rule of the Order, be protected and sheltered and would live to a great age worshipping the one God in all peace and quietness until the call came for him; and at sunrise, his soul rose from his body and journeyed to the west and Paradise.

From that hour the brethren perceived that Jesus was content; and Enoch knew that the cloud which had enveloped his mind through sentences spoken by Shammai, had passed away. He followed the rules of the Order in every particular, rose while it was yet dark, prayed till sunrise, then in company with the other brethren, bathed in the stream, and afterwards worked in the valley, clearing the ground of stones or toiling in the vineyard. He observed prayer and fasting to the letter, and Shammai could find no fault with him. Yet Enoch knew that Shammai watched for an offence which might give him cause to expel this Nazarite from the community.

Now, the wine made by the Essenes was sold and sent to Jerusalem. A certain merchant who had the handling of it, owed monies to the community which were expended by them on corn that fed them during the season of winter.

So when autumn came Shammai bade Jesus prepare for a journey: "I would have thee go up to Jerusalem and bring back to us the purse of money which Haggai, the merchant, has ready for our messenger."

Then Jesus prayed that he might not go on this journey.

"For," he said, "as thou knowest, I have fled from the world because the world will not receive me. Set me any task, but do not command me to go to the city and lose my peace among men."

"Nay," said Shammai, "I have bidden thee go to Jerusalem for this very reason. Each brother must conquer his particular infirmity; and in this hour thine is a fear of the world. Wherefore, I command thee to go up to Jerusalem."

"I am not in any fear of the world," answered Jesus, "but I would not again provoke men." Then suddenly he ceased speaking, for he knew that Shammai would seize this occasion to expel him from the Order for disobedience.

So in a little while he knelt before Shammai and said: "I pray thee give me the blessing of the road."

CHAPTER XXXIV

AT sunrise Jesus prepared to go on his journey; he carried only his staff and bread and water for two days. When they travelled to the cities the Essenes customarily took no monies with them, neither a second coat nor shoes. For, in or near each town, lived some of the brethren, who gave hospitality and showed friendship to anyone of their Order, who knocked at their door.

So in Jerusalem Jesus lived with the holy men and received the purse from the merchant. No man hindered him, and one of the brethren named Joel travelled with him when he went down to Jericho.

They went through a wild and rocky land, and towards evening the solitude of the road was broken by shouts and by the appearance of armed men. Joel bade Jesus flee with him and seek a hiding-place while there was yet, time. For these robbers were some hundreds of paces from them on the hillside. But Jesus did not turn from his road. He was fearless in all that concerned danger to life, and he went forward, deserted by his companion who carried arms, yet was afraid.

Four wild men fell upon Jesus, and as he afterwards related to his disciples, stripped him of his coat and left him half dead upon the road.

They took the purse of money and fled into the hills.

Some time passed. Then a Levite went by and Jesus called to him. But perceiving a wounded and naked man, this pious brother lowered his eyes and continued his journey in haste.

Then there came a priest who rode upon a mule. He halted for an instant and gazed at the wounded traveller. Observing his misery he, too, passed by, fearing like the other that he would have to pay for this man's lodging at the inn which stood in a valley hard by.

It seemed that now Jesus must perish. For in the darkness the hyenas come down from the caves and look for what they may devour. But, at sunset, chance led a Samaritan along the road. The Samaritans were scorned by the Jews because they did not keep to the letter the Law of Moses and many of them lived careless lives. But this man halted his mule and, descending from it, went to Jesus.

Perceiving that he lay in a swoon, he carried him to the mule, and after much labour, bound his body to it, and in this fashion carried him to the inn in the valley.

On the next morning Jesus was in a fever from his wounds. So this good man, the Samaritan, left money with the innkeeper and said: "If it does not suffice for the needs of this stranger I will pay thee what is owing when I come again."

Four days later the fever departed from Jesus and his wounds mended. Then the innkeeper told him of the good deed of the Samaritan.

"We have been acquainted these many years and he is a strange man," said the innkeeper. "He will not let his left hand know what his right hand giveth away. He hath commanded me to keep his name from thee, and if thou art still at the inn when he comes again, he will not encounter the brother he succoured. Here, indeed, is a man who is a winebibber, who lives carelessly and never fasts."

"A priest and a Levite passed by and left me half dead upon the road," answered Jesus.

"I know them," said the innkeeper. "They are holy men who observe the Law of Moses to the letter."

"Which of these three finds favour in the sight of God?" asked Jesus, "the one who showed mercy?"

"Nay, I cannot say," answered the innkeeper, "for he is a winebibber, a Samaritan and one of the lost."

At a later time when Jesus told his disciples of the good deed of the Samaritan, some of them debated together saying: "That is why the Master will not have us fast. The Samaritan is to him an example of the holy life."

But this was only in part true. When Jesus bade his disciples refrain from fasting, he had in mind also, his encounter with Asra, the Essene, Shammai's devout brother.

This man observed fasts and kept no feast days. He scourged his body and sought also to be a thorn in the flesh to his brethren. They honoured and admired his piety. Until Jesus came to the community, he was the chosen one, whose name was spoken only in reverence.

Now at the hour of sunset, it was the custom of the Essenes to lay down their tools and to gather about Asra, who read the Scriptures to them, and then preached on the text for that day.

But it came to pass that certain brethren discovered that Jesus was a teller of parables and could make God known to them through the works of men. One by one they deserted Asra. Each evening the number that gathered round Jesus increased. At last, only two old men remained to hearken to Asra. Wherefore, he was provoked and sought out Shammai and made accusations against Jesus, declaring that he broke the rules of the community.

So Jesus was summoned by the head of the Essenes, who, in those days, lived much apart from the brethren. For he had entered into a long meditation, which, he believed, might lead him to perceive in vision, the Messiah that was to come. He was weary from fasting and prayer that this grace might be bestowed on him. So his manner was stern and he spoke with some heat to Jesus saying:

"Thou knowest that we do not suffer the brethren to delight in the things of this world, to take pleasure in what the senses offer to them through sound, sight or touch. Now, Asra tells me that thou has related profane fables to the brethren. He says that yester-eve, thou didst pluck a flower and tell them the story of its life; that thou didst raise thy hand and pointing to the valley, cry Behold the glory of the lilies of the field'."

"Yea, master, that is so," answered Jesus.

"It is an ill thing that thou hast done," answered the sage. "For if they come to see beauty in these lilies, they will let their minds travel further and their thoughts may dwell upon the beauty of woman, the temptress. Indeed that leads me to the second count against thee. Asra tells me that thou didst speak of wise and foolish virgins and told of how they lit their lamps and other profane things. Nay," he said, lifting his hand when Jesus would speak, "it is for thee to keep silent while I set thee a penance for this offence. Know that talk of women provokes thought of women. They are of the world from which we have fled.

"They are our mothers," cried Jesus.

Shammai spoke with great sternness, commanding him either to hold his peace or to go from the community on the morrow. After this admonition he waited, watching Jesus, the man he feared. But the silence remained unbroken. So no reasonable cause was given him for the expulsion of Jesus from the house of the hermits.

Shammai passed sentence, and for four weeks, Jesus was compelled to Eve apart from the brethren in his cell, not seeing the sun and speaking to no man.

He observed the command of Shammai to the letter, and when he was permitted to work again with the brethren, pray with them, eat with them, he told no more parables and his speech was "yea" and "nay."

But in the after-time he told John, his disciple, that he had known in those days spent among the Essenes, the peace that passes understanding. And he sang psalms as he worked, thus again delighting the brethren with the purity of his voice and provoking Asra who might not speak against such singing. For these were songs of praise to Jehovah.

Spring came again, then summer passed. When the grapes had been gathered, Jesus and Asra were sent to Jericho. They took with them some of the fruit the community had harvested to sell to the merchants there. With the monies received they would buy corn for the winter season.

After they had delivered the grapes, they had to wait an hour or more until the merchant returned to the, counting house and paid them what was owing.

From the moment they had set out on the road, Asra had not spoken to Jesus. Now he withdrew from his company and went and sat under a palm tree, where he could meditate, until such time as they might go to, the counting house.

Hard by in the grove, three lads were playing, and they set upon a fourth and beat him. Jesus went to them, took the boy from them and spoke words of gentle rebuke. Then he gathered them and other children about him, and, as was his wont, told stones concerning warring kingdoms and the days of old. Women passed by, and two or three of them, mothers of these children, halted and hearkened to the teller of tales.

Asra might not continue his meditation in any peace, so he drew near and watched the children and women who were about Jesus. Afterwards, on the road home, he spoke no word of rebuke&emdash;he maintained the old silence.

But when they rendered their account to Shammai, Asra made his accusation which he had prepared while he observed Jesus under the palm tree.

This man from Nazareth had again failed in obedience. He had told stories to the children of the people of Jericho, and these children had hung upon his words. All stories save those in Holy Writ were lies. Wherefore Jesus had twice offended. And when Jesus said&emdash;and Asra could not deny it&emdash;that such parables as he had: related showed these children how they might lead lives pleasing in the sight of God, Shammai bade him be silent saying:

"We Essenes departed from the world and are not of the world. Thou canst not lead two lives&emdash;serve God in this community and also have intercourse with, man."

"But children are not men."

"They are sons of men, and are of the world," answered Shammai. "As thou well knowest, idle speech with them is forbidden."

"Suffer little children to come unto me and forbid them not. For of such is the Kingdom of Heaven."

This time, with wrath in his voice, Shammai bade Jesus hold his peace. Then this master of the Essenes sought to contain his anger by pacing to and fro in silence.

When he spoke again he told Asra to leave them, and Asra went sorrowfully. For being puffed up, he greatly desired to listen to the chiding of this stranger and to perceive his discomfiture. So in a little while he came softly back to the door of the room.

Shammai was speaking and vexatious was his humility, strange his words in the hearing of the holy man who hearkened.

"Thou has roused old grief, Master. My children were slain in the days of violence. Then, for me, the world was a desolation. I fled from men, for I feared the evil hatred in my heart. That evil hath slept for many years, but thou didst waken it, wherefore, I spoke in heat…. Thy words are true. My children were of the Kingdom of Heaven."

And Shammai wept and rent his clothes. But in a little time he was comforted by Jesus, and became again the wise Essene who spoke out of knowledge.

"The life of the hermits is not for thee, Jesus. Hide not thy light under a bushel else thou wilt be called to answer for such waste in thine old age."

"But thou hast withdrawn from the world into this life of holiness?"

"Because I was not like thee, Master, because I knew the present evil would overcome me and I must hate and slay my children's murderers. Many years have passed since that day of revelation&emdash;since I fled to this wilderness and built up a community wherein I sought and found my peace. But thou hast about thee a light, Jesus, which, if it be hid, wrongs God. Let thy fight shine before men. Go into the world, and if the world receive thee not, come to me again."

Now Shammai was a sage and Jesus respected his wisdom; so he consented to go. Then, in the last night before his leave-taking, his Father was with him and bade him return to Nazareth and there await a sip.

CHAPTER XXXV

WHEN Mary Clopas welcomed Jesus home to Nazareth he was again a man of light, a man of joy, and presently he increased in favour with God and the people who lived about there. In Mary's hearing, his voice lifted up in song was sweeter than the melodies of birds&emdash;his laughter gayer than the laughter of any child of man.

He sought to serve her, and one evening, when she was away on the hill, he prepared the food for their supper. But his hands were unskilful, his mind not set on his task, and the bread and the fish were not good to eat, also they had no salt or savour.

And Mary made merry saying: "Thy talent is not for the making of the bread of earth. But in thy company I have eaten of the bread of heaven in these past days."

Then, perplexed, Jesus answered: "If there be no salt wherewith shall thy supper be salted?"

Mary smiled, saying: "The dreamer and the weaver of wise words, cannot perceive the things of this world." Whereupon she showed him the salt that was in one corner of the room before his eyes.

And so they made a jest of the spoiled supper and were as children at play.

Afterwards Mary span and Jesus sang to her the psalm of that day. But too high was her soul uplifted, too gracious her happiness. In the quiet that followed the song, when Jesus, smiling, was withdrawn into himself, Mary's eyes closed.

When she opened them a darkness, deep and black, had gathered though it was the hour before sunset and the room looked out on the west. She heard women weeping, but she could not perceive them, she heard a low lamentation and words spoken thrice:

"They hang Jesus upon a tree."

Then the darkness was no more there, and he was still smiling, and the sinking sun made play of light and shadow in that quiet room.

Mary rose, crying: "Didst thou hear the words spoken?"

"Nay, I heard naught."

And Mary said: "Then thy mind was away, thy hearing holden."

"Yea, yea."

Though he asked her twice, she would not tell him what had been said, being sore afraid for his sake. But she spoke of other things and of the tidings of a prophet who was in Nazareth. "He has come out of the wilderness to Jordan, he calls on men to repent. Some say he is a messenger of God and two or three that he is the Messiah. Many people have gone out to him from Jerusalem and the land of Judaea. They confess their sins, and this holy man, John, baptises them in the river, and it is called the baptism of repentance'."

"I seek a sip," muttered Jesus. "Is this the sign?"

"He is but a hermit who has lived in a cave in the wilderness. One traveller who came upon him there, said he was then as dumb as the beasts of the field; he would speak no word. Peradventure, he had made a vow of silence."

"A vow of silence?" Jesus frowned and Mary continued:

"He is strange and wears a coat of camel's hair and eats locusts and wild honey."

Then Jesus rose and sighing, said: "Always my spirit hath known that my work for my Father is in the world. The days of our contentment are over. I go on a journey tomorrow."

"Thou art come and thou art gone. A bird that rests not on any tree, that makes no home.

Then the face of Jesus shone as he cried: "I know this holy man. He will show me the purpose of my Father. He will make my path clear before me."

And because of the gladness of his countenance, Mary was glad also, and together they rejoiced and made eager talk, and lastly thanked God for the sign.

But in the dark before sunrise, they were sad at the leave-taking. For Jesus, the days of contentment were over&emdash;the days of Wrestling in spirit with Pharisee and Scribe before him. For white-haired Mary there was emptiness, she could speak no word, made only the sign of blessing on the journey. And when she was alone she wept because the Beloved had gone from her and would not come again. For in the time she saw him once more, he was changed, he was the Master who carried the burden of the sins of the world.

CHAPTER XXXVI

Neither the heat of the day nor lack of food stayed them in their journey to the river Jordan. Such was the fame of the new prophet, some said he was the Messiah, and the people, old and young, came to him from Jerusalem and from all the land of Judaea.

By many of these men the needs of the body were forgotten, and the sun did not bum them, for their souls were resting in a greater light. They forgot their sorrows, their cares, for their hearts were uplifted by John's promise of one to come who would baptise them with the Holy Ghost, who was, in truth, the Christ for whom they had waited long years.

The simple people were amazed and shaken by the prophet's anger, when he spoke to Pharisees and Sadducees who were come to his baptism.

"O generation of vipers, who hath warned ye to flee from the wrath to come?"

He could admonish these men in authority, men who had been looked on as masters in knowledge of the Law. They quailed before him, they were confounded. For he was like unto the lightning, God's sword, flashing in the valleys and the thunder of God's voice rolling across the hills. Such was the imagination of the simple people; and privily they were glad that the great should be humbled, the men of authority and learning, abashed.

And John baptised many score of the Jews in the river. Coming out of it they confessed their sins, repented, declared that they were new men. Then they feared and wondered when he prophesied saying: I baptise ye with water unto repentance, but he who cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to unlatch, whose fan is in his hand. And he will thoroughly purge his floor and gather his wheat into the garner, but he will bum up the chaff with unquenchable fire."

After these words there fell a silence deep and strange. No man even whispered; the multitude scarcely dared move or breathe, for the face of John became transformed. Harshness went from it and anger roused by the evil generation of Pharisee and Sadducee died. A child's love was in his eyes, and they fastened on a man whom one or two knew to be of Nazareth. He was said to be of little account, a wanderer who had no settled place. But the mighty prophet of God was seemingly greatly moved by his presence. Suddenly he knelt down and turned his face from the people. What prayer he uttered no man heard. But the kindness was still in his countenance when he rose and looked again upon the multitude.

Emboldened by it, a Pharisee he had silenced said unto him: "Why baptizest thou if thou be not that Christ or Elias?" and angrily others muttered the same question.

John answered them saying: "I baptise with water, but there standest among you one whom ye know not. He it is who, coming after me, is preferred before me."

And he would not speak to the people any more that day, going apart from them.

The faith of a multitude is like an aspen, easily shaken by a small contrary wind. Having waited so long for the Coming, the old men were cast down; they murmured among themselves: "He is neither Elias nor the Christ. What went we out to see?" And Pharisee and Sadducee worked craftily upon their understanding. Then many failed in belief, and doubting, were sad at heart.

But early on the morrow as John stood by the river and the people were gathered, Jesus came to be baptised.

Recalling his strange power and awesome purity when they had first met, John forbade him saying: "I have need to be baptised of thee."

Jesus answered: "Suffer it to be so now, for thus it becometh us to fulfill all righteousness."

Then John spoke the holy words as Jesus entered the water. And gazing on John the people knew that some great thing was being performed. Certain of then knelt down and fell upon their faces, so moved were they by his gladness and his majesty. But in a little while it was not John but Jesus who held all eyes.

He went up straightway out of the water and he appeared to them like the sun giving forth rays. Radiance was about him; he was a Being of Light.

On that instant doubt fled from the hearts of the people. Their souls leaped in their bodies; but they knew not the cause&emdash;that they witnessed the glory of He who was preferred before John, the one they now reckoned was the forerunner of the Christ. For later they said to each other that John must assuredly be the forerunner because he had, through baptism in Jordan, so transformed this unknown Nazarite. Thus they held that it was the great prophet's spirit that illumined Jesus.

They did not see the whole miracle. They saw only one part, yet it remained with them all their days, an image in memory that could not fade for it was of the everlasting.

John alone perceived the skies opening unto Jesus, the Holy Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting upon him.

And he alone heard a voice from Heaven saying:

This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased."

In the glory of the Spirit's light Jesus went through the multitude, and the people made a broad path before him.

Some did not perceive his light as others did. But speech was reft from all. Since that time no crowd hath been held in such quiet, hath been many yet one.

For it was bound on that occasion in the great peace of God.

No man dared follow Jesus. When he had passed from among them, the people gave a sigh of wonder and bowed their heads. Then they waited in the same quiet and watched the preacher who stood there like a mighty tree on a windless evening. No sound or sign was made by him. He was again the speechless John of the cave in the wilderness.

At last he broke the silence as a man breaks bread. Slowly, softly, he spoke and was like one amazed. But now in his words was the kindling wisdom of the Holy Spirit.

And the whole multitude believed and were ready on that day to follow John to the end, gladly to lay down their lives at his bidding.

For though he began speaking in all quietness, before noon had come he was preaching with violence, he was as a strong man armed who taketh the Kingdom of Heaven by force.

He knew no weariness and would not rest. At sunset, when the people were departing to seek food and sleep, he called by name certain men among them&emdash;several being strangers to the prophet&emdash;and these followed him to a place apart.

Eating naught, drinking only water from a well, he held council with these disciples chosen from the people. Between them they shaped what was known at a later time as "The Sect of the Nazarenes". And John declared that they were to restore Eden which, in the day of the Lord, would be the Kingdom of Heaven on earth.

The Christ would deliver them from the abominable rule of the Romans. But he would do more. To him the task, the triumph of making Eden, of setting up the Kingdom of God on earth.

Then Judas Iscariot, who was among them, demanded that they should be the secret community of the New Israel. They must keep the knowledge of it from all save those they could trust, while through the open teaching and preaching of John, they would prepare the people so that they might be ready for the Day of the Lord.

And on the next evening, when these men were again assembled, they were agreed to all that had been said; and thus began to be shaped, what Judas privily told Simon, was the army of the New Israel; these Nazarenes would follow John and the one commonly known as the Nazarite, Jesus.

Now the Romans had chosen as the High Priest of the Jews, a man they held to be favourably disposed towards their rule. In defiance of this choice, some of these Nazarenes already called John the High Priest, the Holy One set above all the people of the Jews. For veritably God had chosen him, and he whom God had chosen no man may, with impunity, deny.

To these sayings the council of the New Israel assented with one voice, and on that notable evening they acclaimed and hailed John as the High Priest of Israel. But this community of the Nazarenes was like a plant. It had its roots in an older order of devout people.

On the day after the baptism John saw Jesus as he walked, and said: "Behold the Lamb of God." But he did not know him then to be in truth the Christ.

They conversed together, and presently John told Jesus of the community of the New Israel, that baptism made each man a member of it. And it would be well for them to have some secret sign by which one brother would be known to the other.

Then with a stick Jesus drew a cross in the dust and said: "Behold the sign."

Astonished, John cried: "But it is the brand of Cain, the mark that was set on his forehead after he brought death into the world by slaying his brother Abet."

"For that cause I have chosen the sign. It will be a continual reminder to the brethren. Take upon yourself the mark of the cross and follow me; take the sin of the world upon your shoulders."

The prophet was abashed. "A strange saying. What is the interpretation of it?"

"Cain, the first slayer of men," said Jesus, "was the first man who made war upon his kind. Since then for greed, for covetousness, or because of distress and dearth, men have continually made war upon one another, bringing to themselves and women and children, all manner of evil. Thus the peace of God is far from the hearts of the people. But the cross of Cain shall no longer be the mark of the sin of bloodshed. It shall, through the community's use of it, be changed into the sign of redemption."

"And how may that be so?"

"By making it a reminder of the man who first brought the principal evil into the world. Verily, Eve disobeyed God, but greater was the offence of Cain."

"How may we overcome the lust for war&emdash;the slaying of brother by brother?" asked John.

"Making the sign of the cross of Cain we shall eschew all violence. Not with the weapons of death but through the acts and ensample of our lives shall we resist authority." Then Jesus cried: "By following the path of peace and love of our neighbor we make war upon the Romans. All things are possible with God. Let the people of the New Israel abolish the death of Abel through the wisdom of the Holy Ghost."

And John agreed that there was only this way by which war and violence, Satan's mightiest weapons, could be overcome. And they must be overcome if the Kingdom of Heaven was to reign in the hearts of the elect.

So it came to pass that, each time a Nazarene made the sign of the cross, he renewed the vow that for no cause would he shed his brother's blood, for no cause would he in the words of the Lord "be cursed from the earth which had opened her mouth to receive Abel's blood from the hand of Cain".

Thus the cross of Cain became the Cross of Christ.

CHAPTER XXXVII

JESUS went into the wilderness. There he fasted forty days and forty nights. In that time he withstood all temptations, conquered Satan and scattered the armies of the demons that came at him out of hell.

During those days of fasting he learned God's purpose for him. Being now wholly prepared for his ministry, he returned in the power of the Holy Spirit to Galilee, and his fame went out through all the region round about.

He taught in the synagogue and was glorified by the people, numbers of whom were members of the sect of the Nazarenes through the baptism of John.

Jesus called twelve disciples to him, and from that time eleven of them were his faithful companions. But the twelfth, Iscariot, walked much alone, for a jealous anger would possess him in those hours the Master withdrew to talk with John, James and Simon Peter, who were his chosen brethren.

When Jesus was in the wilderness tempted of Satan, John the Baptist was put into prison. It happened on this wise. Learning that a prophet, whom some said was Elias, preached beside Jordan, Herod caused John to be brought before him. Surrounded by worldly-wise people, the king welcomed this just and holy man. Moved by his exhortation to repentance, he changed the corrupt way of life of his court and ordered gold to be taken from his treasury, not for rich apparel and food as aforetime, but to buy garments and bread for the poor and hungry people.

The lords of the court liked not what they privily called the "Reign of John the Vagabond". For they might no longer feast in fine apparel and live evilly because of the change in Herod's heart. And they only angered the king when they sought with mockery to set him against John.

Speaking with the king once again John said

All this is well done. But thy repentance is not yet acceptable to God."

Herod asked what more he might do and declared his eagerness to make full repentance.

John answered boldly: "It is not lawful for thee to have thy brother's wife."

Then Herod was wrathful and sorrowful. But his wrath in part gained the mastery, and he ordered his guard to cast John into prison.

From that hour the king was thrown into a dark melancholy and frowned upon the people of his court.

He feared John, knowing him to be a just man. Wherefore he continued to observe the new way of life in which he had been instructed by this prophet of God. And he refused the company of his brother's wife.

Two men visited John while he lay in prison. These were his disciples, and they brought good tidings of the growth of the community of the New Israel. But he seemed not to heed them, remaining silent and withdrawn.

When at last he spoke, it was of a perplexity that consumed his soul, that had not been answered by prayer.

"Was it the Voice of God that spake to me out of a cloud saying: 'This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased'? If that were so then Jesus is the One preferred before me, and I was blind to the glory and dumb, when I should have uttered the words of truth to the multitude, hailing Jesus as the Christ. But during the days I passed in the wilderness I heard voices that were not always of God, that several times came from the Tempter. Hence I am sore troubled, not knowing what is true and whether I have failed my Lord."

Then the two disciples told their master of the miracles wrought by Jesus and of how his fame had gone throughout all Galilee.

But thinking of the youth Jesus who had visited him in the cave, John was not yet satisfied. So he prayed them to find him and to question him.

This they did; and having witnessed the work of Jesus, they asked: "Art thou He that should come or look we for another?"

Now Jesus had healed many of the sick that day and was girt about by a crowd of these people and their kin who testified to the miracles the Master had wrought. And he then bade these disciples to go their way and tell John what they had seen and heard.

They obeyed his bidding and added to the testimony the words: "We fastened our gaze on this Master and behold, we looked upon the face of truth. So we could scarce hinder ourselves from falling down and worshipping the one who was truly named the beloved Son of God."

Then John rejoiced and said: "Go, tell this people of Judaea that Jesus is he whose shoe-latchet I am unworthy to unloose, he is veritably the Christ."

On that evening John, the just, stern man, no longer girded up himself. He knew the peace that passes understanding.

It was well for him he gained his peace, for in the heat of the day when Herod slept, the guards were bribed. Wherefore they permitted the daughter of Herodias&emdash;John's enemy&emdash;to come into the king's chamber, and he groaned and cried and had dark dreams of the flesh. So on opening his eyes, he was desiring above all else, the presence of women whom he had put from his life.

And behold, a woman stood before him and was lovely in his sight. In silence she swayed to and fro like a reed in the wind. But she did not tarry long, and when the King was fully wakened she had gone.

He could not banish from him the vision of this damsel, and his flesh yearned for the feasting and the days of his delight. He had denied himself these at the bidding of John; but now they would no longer be denied.

When his birthday was come Herod gave a supper to his lords and high captains.

At his command the daughter of Herodias came and dancing before him, once more delighted his eyes; also those men of high estate who sat with him, loudly acclaimed the dancer. Herod was glad, and, forgetting all else, said to the damsel: "Ask of me whatever thou wilt and I will give it thee&emdash;even to the half of my kingdom."

But she went forth and spoke with her mother seeking her command.

In haste Herodias sent her to the king, and she said:

"I will that thou give me by and by in a charger the head of John the Baptist."

Then Herod was troubled to the depths of his soul. Howbeit, he could neither let himself be shamed before the men of chief estate of Galilee nor could he break a king's oath.

Immediately he sent an executioner to the prisoner, and, while they waited, the damsel danced again.

So, three days after John gained his peace, his head was hewn from his shoulders by the axe, and it was brought in a charger to the dancer, who gave it to her mother.

The days of delight did not endure for Herod. In a little while tidings of the fame of a prophet whom some said was Elias, came to his hearing. And he rent his robes and was sore afraid and cried out: "It is John whom I beheaded. He is risen from the dead."

Terror was his portion by day and by night, and at last he sent word that this prophet should be brought before him.

Hearing this, Jesus withdrew to a solitary place. And Herod's messengers, at the bidding of Herod's lords, made no great search. Presently they came to the king and declared that there was no man of that name to be found in Galilee.

Herodias and her daughter sought to comfort him, and for a while, in their company, he knew not fear or melancholy. But in other hours he mourned for his own soul. Inasmuch as he had betrayed the one man he revered above all others.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

JUDAS Iscariot had not relinquished his dream of violence. He still believed that the Kingdom of Heaven could only be taken by weapons of war. Justifying this, he said to himself: "My father&emdash;a man of peace&emdash;had his entrails torn out by the men who ruled with the sword."

But he kept his own counsel. The time was not yet ripe, the hour had not come to loose the sword. An army, great in numbers, was needed if Caesar's legions were to be overcome. Of necessity, therefore, many more young men should be enrolled in the community of the Nazarenes. How might they be obtained?

John, their appointed High Priest, was dead, But Iscariot deemed that Jesus would serve his purpose. He would indeed be the more serviceable because he was the poet and prophet of peace.

Speaking on the mountain, the Master taught saying:

Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven."

"Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of God."

And at another time Jesus bade the people turn the other cheek to the smiter, and also in further words, showed that he was not a leader seeking to rouse men to revolt against Caesar's authority as lawgiver. In this manner Judas held that, he cast dust into the eyes of the Romans and advanced the time of revolt by gathering many young men into the Nazarene Community.

When the hour to strike had come, Iscariot determined that he would tell Jesus of his dream of power by violence.

But while waiting for that time he told only certain young men sworn to secrecy, what was his plan. Meanwhile he determined to remain a zealous disciple of the Master, assiduous in service.

Now Jesus held that money was accursed because it was the sign of Caesar's power, the sign of greed and evil passions. He carried no money with him, and for the most part the disciples followed his example. They, too, would live without taking thought for the morrow.

But Iscariot took thought for it and received gifts from believers for the Master. So he carried the bag, and at times, when the disciples might have fainted from hunger, living as they did, he provided food and also the price of raiment for them out of the common purse.

In these matters Philip aided him, and Philip watched the pence and reckoned that half of what was given for Jesus and his brethren was kept back by Judas. But when questioned he declared that this money was spent on the needs of the community.

So Philip told the other disciples that he believed that Judas was a thief. They did not know that he regarded weapons of war as a need of the Nazarenes, and that it was these he purchased and had secretly borne to a sure hiding-place near Jerusalem.

All this was revealed to Simon long after the death of Judas by a young man who had been employed by him in this buying of weapons for the secret army of the New Israel.

Now, one evening, when Jesus had been with a great company in the mountain all day, he perceived that the people hungered and there was no place where so many might buy food.

So he sought to test Philip whose spirit had been vexed at times by the small cares of finding and buying food, and he asked:

"Whence shall we buy bread that these may eat?"

Troubled, Philip said that two hundred penny-worth of bread would not suffice for such numbers.

But when five barley loaves and two small fishes were brought and Jesus had distributed them to the disciples to give to the people, five thousand men and women were fed and were satisfied.

Afterwards the disciples gathered up the fragments so that nothing should be lost. And they filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves which remained over and above what had been eaten.

Judas was amazed, for he could not deny the sight of his eyes, and his faith in the power of this world was shaken.

On the next day speaking as Son of Man, Jesus told of his desire to lead the community of the New Israel, once they were fully numbered, to some land where men need not pay taxes to Caesar and where they would shape a kingdom in which there was no money, or weapons of war, or rich garments, or palaces, and where all lived by the work of their hands on the fruits gathered by them from the earth. These words were set as a test. Jesus ended by fastening his eyes on Judas and, sighing, said: "I continually wrestle for thy soul, Iscariot. When wilt thou render it unto me?"

Then this strong man feared that the secret of his heart had been read. He durst not face those eyes of truth and went away to a solitary place and there wept bitterly.

Simon followed his friend and in a little while asked what vexed him so?

Judas answered: "The Master hath trapped me as a fowler snares a bird." Then he wept again and cried out: "I shall give up all and follow him."

Simon told this thing to Jesus, who said: "Yea, in the present time he hath sheathed the sword and is prepared to seek a country. But behold, he weeps for his dream of darkness which hath been banished by the Holy Spirit's light."

Simon could not interpret this last saying, but rejoiced over the repentance of Iscariot. He did not perceive that when a man weeps for what he has lost, he will presently seek to find it again.

Jesus continued to speak privily to Judas of a country of the elect where there would be no money or weapons of war, where government would not be in the hands of an evil and adulterous generation. For Jesus sought to keep his disciple on the path of light and save him from his own dark destiny.

From the beginning the Son of God knew who would betray him. But the Son of Man prayed to the Father for the soul of the betrayer, and believed that if the Father willed it, He might change what was ordained and cause His Son to prevail with Judas. Then, leading his people to another country, that Son would set up the Kingdom of Heaven on earth in the lifetime of his disciples.

For, while in the body, Jesus was both Son of Man and Son of God. He took on our infirmities. Wherefore, the radiant vision would be clouded when, as Son of Man, he looked for what was to come.

CHAPTER XXXIX

AS the months went by, Jesus increased in power the power that is not of the world, that cometh from the Father. The radiant vision no longer clouded, the Master knew what was to come.

Many men hated him because he spoke the truth which is of God alone. And in terror of that truth, numbers of the disciples went back and walked no more with Jesus. They were also afraid for their lives because the hirelings of the people of this world plotted to kill him.

The Twelve took counsel together concerning this plot; then they approached Jesus and besought him to walk no more in Jewry else they would all be slain. They were like a flock of sheep consumed by fear of the wolf. It was Iscariot whose words had sown this fear in their souls. Holding that the time was not yet ripe for armed revolt, he had insisted that their little company should hide with Jesus in a solitary part of Galilee or in the wilderness. So, terror being in their case stronger than love, they were almost prepared to leave him to the slayers and flee if he did not consent to this withdrawal.

Wherefore, they spoke of the evil things that had been said, and made the demand for flight. They did not perceive that their demand was that the great number of believers should be deserted by the Master and his disciples.

When they had made an end of their long speeches no answer came. Quiet prevailed for a little while but fear remained.

Simon, also known as Peter, began to tremble in that silence and Judas gazed at him scornfully.

At last Jesus spoke and in five words answered their many prayers:

Will ye also go away?"

He was a strange and lonely figure, standing there in the evening light, apart from his little flock. Now no longer a man of joy, he was a man acquainted with grief&emdash;a Mystery to them, always alone.

Peter was pierced to the heart by that sadness. Love conquered fear and he spoke boldly, saying:

"Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life. We believe that thou art Christ, the Son of the living God."

Jesus gazed at the Twelfth Disciple, his eyes questioning him.

Then Judas hid his face, knowing that the record of his rebellion and denial had been read.

And Jesus answered: "Peter, have I not chosen you Twelve and one of you is a devil?"

Sweat stood out on the brow of Judas. But he durst not answer his Lord, for there was no change of heart in him.

At a later time Jesus said to his disciples: "The world cannot hate you but me it hateth because I testify of it that the works thereof are evil."

The disciples had not yet received the Holy Spirit in Its glory. Wherefore, though good men, they were still of the common clay and subject to fear.

Judas deemed that he had not yet enough young men of the secret army to hold Jerusalem if it were seized by them. But his plan for the hiding of Jesus and the disciples had failed because the Master had read his soul.

He was sorely vexed for he believed that, in another year or so, the time would be ripe for such a revolt. But now Jesus was preparing to depart from Galilee and go through Judaea and Samaria, teaching and preaching with Jerusalem as his goal.

In Iscariot's mind the king of the New Israel, Jesus, was to be king without power, and Judas, his servant, the master and lawgiver of a kingdom wrested from the Romans by violence. For this end he prayed in the presence of one companion who later told of these things.

Despite his fears because this was not his chosen time, Judas believed that God, thus industriously entreated by him, might work a miracle and bring about the victory of the sword. But these matters he kept from all save Jonah, his secret companion and guardian of the weapons.

Now Jesus gathered together a number of believers and all he fired with his teaching. They became as one behind him in his purpose to spread the knowledge of the Kingdom of God. In twos he sent out seventy disciples to tell these good tidings to the people. Then with the Twelve and certain faithful women, he travelled through Samaria. Judas sent Jonah before them to make ready for an insurrection, though he would only strike at Jerusalem if the time seemed propitious&emdash;if Jesus swayed the multitude.

The other disciples believed that he would secretly attend the Feast of the Tabernacle and not preach in that time. But Judas divined that his light could not be hid. For he was in power and notable were his words and the miracles wrought by him as he journeyed to Jerusalem.

CHAPTER XL

IN that last week of his life when the Master showed the full glory of the Son of God, he spoke in the Temple and to the people in other places. Much of what he said has been recorded, so this chronicle will be concerned only with the happenings of that time.

On one still evening Jesus came to Bethphage. The skies were overcast above and beyond Jerusalem, but all about him was light. He stood in that light and bade the disciples go before him and tell the people of his coming.

And on doing his bidding they were astonished to find encamped a great company of believers who awaited their Lord, and many of them declared that they were prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth if it were his will.

Such tidings did not please Judas who remained behind when the other disciples returned to Bethphage. Then he revealed his plan of war to the young men, and they agreed to it, and arms were distributed among them.

They held a council, and Judas was chosen as their secret captain and Barabbas as their open leader, who would go before them with a sword. They planned to seize Fort Antonia and the Tower of Siloam when Judas gave the command. The Governor, Pilate, was away in the country and there were but few Roman soldiers in the city. It seemed indeed to Judas, that God blessed his enterprise and that they would seize the whole town at the appointed time.

Jesus passed the night in communion with His Father, and towards dawn, slept like a little child.

In the morning the sun shone, and there were no shadows cast from the skies over the land. And Judas said to Simon that it was a sign from God that the shadow of Roman rule would now be for ever removed from His people. So the man of violence was of good heart when Jesus mounted the foal of an ass and rode from the Mount of Olives to Jerusalem.

The earth was dark with people, and great and glad was their welcome. Some spread their garments before the Master, others cut down branches, strewing them in the way.

The multitude chanted as with one voice:

"Hail to the Son of David. Blessed is he who cometh in the Name of the Lord. Hosanna in the Highest."

Then Judas boastfully declared to the young men that he was assured of victory over the Romans.

In the hour Jesus entered Jerusalem, the people of the city ran about the streets asking "Who is this man?"

"The Prophet from Nazareth," was one among several answers.

When he had arrived at an open space near the Temple, a press of men and women gathered about him and he lifted up his hands and blessed them.

A hush like the stillness of the wilderness fell upon all as he opened his mouth saying: "I am come on the foal of an ass as a sign to ye of peaceful toil and humility of heart." Then he bade all who desired the Kingdom of God to go in this spirit from Jerusalem and seek like their forefathers a promised land. He repeated what he had said to Judas. That in such a kingdom there would be no taxes, no weapons of war, no money, no palaces, and all would live by the work of their hands on the fruits gathered from the earth.

It was to John, the well-beloved disciple, he privily imparted its design. Denouncing the hard government of Romans and Pharisees, he had said to him that the members of the Nazarene community, which sought a country in the wilderness, should in all freedom choose their leaders. And these leaders, because of such work, would not be allotted a greater share of goods than others of the people. He aimed at a Brotherhood in which all men and women were equal before God and put their trust in God alone. In that time he would not be with them in the flesh, but in spirit, if they chose to go.

He was the first and only Son of Man who planned that men and women in equal numbers made a council that directed the sharing of food, clothing and the work of the community. For he had found among the women he knew, a gentleness and single-hearted faith that checked the desire for violence and domination in the stronger, fiercer nature of the ordinary man. Also he put the needs of the children first, and they were in the care of the women.

Once each person had enough of the things of this world, what was in excess was given to those who had the greater requirements or deserved it because of their more zealous or finer service.

But Jesus taught that the things of this world were of little account, that man's desire should be for the works of the Holy Spirit. For that cause he had told Martha, who was cumbered with much serving, that Mary had chosen the better part.

To men money meant the temptation of gain. So money would not be used by the community he had designed. The one coinage was love&emdash;the love that shares all things with the Beloved and the Beloved was all those who served God and not Mammon in the way Christ had appointed.

But to the crowd on this first day of his coming to Jerusalem, Jesus did not speak of the shape and kind of the Nazarene Community. His was an exhortation that the people should go forth from Jerusalem away from Roman rule. They were to seek a Kingdom in the likeness of the Father's Kingdom, and having found it, Jesus said: "The Truth shall make you free."

To Judas this exhortation was a web of false and foolish words. He was troubled, fearing it might turn his followers away from his plan of battle for freedom. But Jesus went into the Temple, and beholding the commerce and the greed of the traders in God's House, be spoke in a loud voice the great words of Indignation.

"My House shall be called the House of Prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves."

A hush of astonishment followed this saying. Then, because Jesus hated evil he became the warrior. Despite the armed guard he advanced with a whip in his hand and struck with it to the right and left at greedy moneychangers. Thus he would for that day put an end to the pollution of the House of God by their robberies.

Swiftly Judas and the young men followed his example. They fell upon the traders with whips but assaulted the Roman guards with arms. They cast them all out and overthrew the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold doves.

Once the courts were cleared, blind and lame, old men and crippled children came to Jesus in the Temple, and he had compassion and healed them. None was rejected, all of them rejoiced and praised God. The voices of youths and children sounded in their clear purity.

"Hosanna to the Son of David."

The Chief Priest and Scribes were angered against Jesus. But they feared the people and judged that it was no time to do him hurt. In bitterness they reproached him, crying:

"Hear ye the voice of the ignorant mob?"

And he answered: "Have ye never read, 'Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise'?"

Then he departed with his disciples and went out of the town to Bethany and lodged there.

Afterwards when Mary Clopas was alone with Jesus she taxed him with what had been done. Tidings had been borne to her of the violence in the House of God. She asked him why he called on the people to go into the wilderness and there make a Kingdom of Peace when later, he, the Master, roused the young men, leading them to attack and smite the traders in the Temple.

"In the Temple I warred against the evil of blasphemy, greed and theft which I hate," was his answer.

But there was no hatred in my heart for those erring money-changers. They and you, Mary, are all children of my Father."

"Then was thy Kingdom of Peace but a parable, or was it a command?"

"It was spoken for the present hour&emdash;spoken to save other blind children of my Father. Young men who follow Judas are now about to die by the sword with only hatred of the Gentiles in their hearts. But a goodly number of youths were held back by my parable. Hatred perished. They go not on the vain quest of torture and death. In a later time, when I am no more with you, certain of them will seek a country as they were bidden in my parable." And this was so. But Jesus commanded Mary to tell of these things to no man in that generation. For all must be accomplished&emdash;the Disciples tried in the furnace, so that they might later receive the Holy Spirit and bear witness to the truth.

CHAPTER XLI

AFTER the money-changers were, with the consent of Jesus, driven out, and after the young men had seized the Temple putting the Roman Guard to flight, Barabbas and Jonah took command and marshalled the youths in one company under their orders.

Now Jonah, or Bar-Jonah, was a cousin of Peter and resembled him in face and stature. Jonah gave Peter a sword and bade him take his place in their legion. But Peter went away and hid the sword in a sure place. He would have it at hand to use if the hirelings of the High Priest sought to kill Jesus. For Peter loved his Master beyond all save his own life, and he was disquieted by the gossip the maids of the priests had related concerning their hatred of Jesus.

Meanwhile Barabbas and Jonah led the armed youths through the streets of the city and called on Jews to join their army. The people were afraid and held back; some of them would have gladly witnessed the overthrow of Roman, Scribe and Pharisee, for all these in authority placed heavy burdens on them. But they knew that the Roman army was encamped in the country, and, though some distance away, might easily march to Jerusalem, reaching it within three or four days. Also, immediately on the capture of the Temple, rumour said that Annas and the High Priest had sent messengers to the Roman Governor, Pilate, who was with the army, advising him of riot and insurrection, and praying him to come speedily and deliver the city from the bandits which were commanded by Barabbas and encited by a fellow named Jesus who came up from Nazareth for that purpose.

Despite the sudden withdrawal of men to their houses, the little army led by Barabbas and Jonah, made an assault upon Fort Antonia and the Tower of Siloam. These were held by a small guard of Roman soldiers who were swiftly overcome. Then the rebels took possession of these strongholds and provisioned them. Judas Iscariot was not with this company, for he remained their secret leader, deeming it wiser to be near Jesus. In his mind Jesus was the kernel of the revolt, and Judas was greatly uplifted when these strong places were taken. For he calculated that, before the Roman troops reached Jerusalem, the Master, who was greatly incensed against the corruption and hypocrisy of Scribe and Pharisee, would, in his preaching, so denounce them, the whole people would rise in revolt and, joining the company of youths, make common cause with them against the Roman army and those Jews in high places who upheld their authority.

Judas learnt that Annas was greatly disturbed and afraid; and that evening this priest called a council together. Speaking to the Pharisees and Scribes assembled, he declared that Jesus, the so-called Prophet of Nazareth, was the true offender, for he sought to overthrow their authority. On that day, this fellow had spoken in parables, had named no one, but each parable was like unto a sword thrust, striking at Scribe and Pharisee. Then a member of the council rose up and asked if there were any evidence in what Jesus had preached that day which would show that he had stirred up this riot and insurrection.

And Annas signed to a scribe who read from a parchment certain words that Jesus had uttered before he had entered the Temple on that turbulent day. He bade all Jews renounce their possessions and go unarmed into the Wilderness. There, like the Children of Israel, they would find a land where they could dwell in all peace without arms, without taxes or money.

Some of the members of the council laughed and mocked at this plan for a nation and said it was the dream of a fool or a madman.

"But," said Annas, "there is no evidence in this dream of folly that Jesus encited the people to rise in insurrection against the Romans. So this testimony will not in any way serve our purpose. We must seek by questions to entangle Jesus and thus prove him to be a leader of this revolt. Then we shall cause Pilate to judge and condemn the Nazarene to death after he has restored order in Jerusalem with his army."

And the Pharisees were pleased with this plan, and together they plotted the questions to ask Jesus on the morrow.

CHAPTER XLII

SEVEN men skilled in the artifice of words, amongst them a lawyer, had been chosen by Annas who had respect for the wit of the Prophet, of whom he spoke with contempt.

These men went unto Jesus. Some were witnesses, three were the chosen speakers and they said: "Master, our hearts are not haughty nor our eyes lofty. We are not able to exercise our minds on too high things. But thou art a man of great knowledge and a prophet who can discern all things."

Jesus looked at them and kept silence. There was power in his glance. Wherefore they uneasily continued: "We know that thou art true and carest not for any man. Neither regardest thou the person of any man but teachest the way of God in truth. Is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar or is it not? Shall we give or shall we withhold?"

And Jesus said: "Why tempt ye me ye hypocrites? Bring me a penny." And they brought it and he asked: "Whose is the image and superscription?"

"Caesar's." They cast down their eyes, for they could not bear his gaze.

And he answered: "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's and unto God the things that are God's."

Now they had counted on entrapping him with this riddle because he had spoken of a country that might be like unto God's Kingdom wherein no taxes would be paid. They were confounded and abashed by his answer and more than all else by the radiance of his person, by the truth that illumined his countenance.

A young Pharisee asked three or four more questions that had been set by Annas, but they failed to lead him either to utter words of treason against Caesar or against God.

Those assembled in that place acclaimed his wise answers and told them to others, so that soon most of the people had learnt of them and Jesus thereby increased in favour with the multitude.

But the seven Pharisees durst not ask him any more questions, and they returned to Annas and made their report of the matter. And the young Pharisee said: "Leave this prophet alone for it may well be that God is with him."

"God cannot be with a man who in parables speaks against Pharisees and Scribes, against God's own elect," cried Annas, and he was much incensed.

Then another spoke saying: "The multitude call him the Christ. It were folly in this time to arrest him or do him any hurt. The people would then be turned against us and we might not receive our dues from them."

Annas agreed that it was not the time to strike at one who was, he declared, a messenger of Satan, a false Christ. For there could be no truth in a man who spoke against the Temple and those that sat on Moses' seat.

"But because," said Annas, "this Nazarene has the cunning of the Devil, we will not molest him, we will seek for one among his disciples who may be bribed to witness against him."

So this was done. And in a little while Judas Iscariot was found walking apart from the brethren. They took him to Annas's house, treating him very courteously.

The elders perceived that, in such a man, there was ordinary metal, and so they flattered him, seeking thus to cause him to bear witness against his Master.

But Judas was not a liar. He declared that Jesus was a man of peace and that he had said: "He who takes up the sword perishes by the sword".

Then Annas asked the elders to withdraw. When alone with Judas he caused the disciple to speak freely.

Thus he gradually perceived the nature and texture of his character, and finally he bade him go to his master and strive to persuade him either to leave Jerusalem or to cease from speaking against Scribes and Pharisees.

Judas was persuaded to agree with Annas that it was an ill thing for Jesus to divide the nation of the Jews by setting the people against their own wise men. So he promised to speak as he was told and return in due course bearing further tidings.

Meanwhile the Sadducees, who believe in no resurrection, no life to come, questioned Jesus concerning it. And when they spoke of the dead as of those men and women who, through death, perished utterly, he told them that the God of Abraham and of Isaac was the God of the living and not of the dead. Then on their seeking to dispute with him he overcame them each in turn with his answers. So they, like the Pharisees, went away discomfited and were afraid to ask him any more questions.

* * * * *

Judas Iscariot came to Jesus and said: "I pray thee Master, speak not in parables against Pharisees and Scribes as has been thy practice. For it rouses the people of the Jews against them and much harm is wrought thereby."

And Jesus answered: "Numbers of the poor in Jerusalem have died from hunger or from the illness that comes from dearth. Thou art aware of the exactions of these Pharisees. They wax rich and have far in excess of their needs."

Judas said: "Only in the present time I beseech thee hold thy peace concerning them. For if thou dost continue to denounce their ways in parable, thou wilt divide the nation in twain, setting the Jews against their own people in authority. Thou hast thyself said 'a house divided against itself cannot stand'. But when the Romans have fled from our holy city, then, peradventure, things can be changed, the power of Pharisees and Scribes overthrown."

"And meanwhile I am to condone their iniquity by my silence?"

"But they are holy men of great piety, chosen by God," cried Judas.

"What virtue is there in long prayers if the people perish?" Then Jesus sighed and said: " Judas, I know the secrets of thy heart."

Thinking of Barabbas and his revolt, Judas answered "I have carried no sword."

Jesus said sternly: "I can read what is hidden; thou hast been in conference with the Pharisees.

And Judas could not deny it.

Then Jesus muttered: "The gins and traps are set; aye, the fowler will ensnare the foolish bird."

But Judas was not warned by these words. He went away, his brows dark with resentment at what he deemed to be folly. Inasmuch as he declared to, his friends that the reason the multitude held back and did not join the band of armed youths raised by Barabbas, was because Jesus spoke not against the Romans but daily preached against the Jews in high places, thus rousing the peoples' anger only against members of their own race.

After this talk with Judas, Jesus was sorrowful until he came to the brook Kedron and entered the garden of Gethsemane. A few women and children who had followed him from Jerusalem, were there gathered together. Seeing them his humor changed. He played with the children and then, sitting under a tree, spoke to the two Marys and Susannah and other women, telling them of how a Kingdom of Heaven might be planted like a fair vineyard upon the earth. But first this heaven must be in the heart of each man and woman of the elect. Then only might it be achieved in some solitary country far from rulers and men of greed.

And as the stars came out and the moon lightened the dark with silver rays, a great peace fell on the listeners and they rejoiced in a serene happiness of spirit which was drawn from the Master. Indeed, about this paradise he span what seemed to them a tale of wonder. But being simple women they believed in it with all their hearts.

This was the last time on his earthly journey in which Jesus was lit up by joy and seemed to those about him once more the young man of joy they had known in past years.

At last he said: "It is late;" and blessed them and bade them go in peace.

Then part of that night he knelt and prayed in the garden of Gethsemane while the disciples watched by him. For they liked not to leave their Master at any time alone, having heard rumours that he might be slain by some hireling of Scribe or Pharisee. Jerusalem at that time was like unto a storm-tossed sea, and many and strange were the wild stories told as Pilate's army drew near to the city walls.

On the morrow Jesus lifted up his voice in the Temple and spoke to a great multitude. Never had so many been crowded into that one place. Judas stood away from the Master in a corner, and he prayed silently to his God that no word would be spoken against Scribe or Pharisee but that the words of just wrath Jesus alone could utter, would be flung against the Romans, against the oppression of Caesar and that his robberies should be declared to all the people.

The crowd ceased muttering and making a murmur like the tide, as Jesus lifted up his voice saying:

"The Scribes and Pharisees sit in Moses' seat, and what they bid ye observe, that observe, but do not after their works. For they say and do not.

"They bind heavy burdens grievous to be borne, and lay them on men's shoulders. And they do not lift one of their fingers to move them from off the people.

"They make broad their phylacteries and enrich their garments, enlarging their borders.

"They take the first place in the uppermost room and synagogues. All works they do in the open so that they can be seen of men. Great is their arrogance; they compel the people to bow down to them and call them Rabbi.

"He that is master shall be the servant. Call no man master save God alone.

"Woe unto ye Scribes and Pharisees who devour widows' houses and who encompass sea and land to make one proselyte; and when he is made ye make him two-fold more the child of hell than yourselves.

"Woe unto you blind guides of the people, stiff-necked, proud, filled with hypocrisy. Ye strain at a pat and swallow a camel.

"Woe to ye Scribes and Pharisees."

And now Jesus was shaken by the wrath of God and so changed in countenance that his own disciples scarcely knew him as he continued: "Pharisee and Scribe are like unto a whited sepulchre, which outwardly is beautiful, but inwardly is foul, full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness."

Then Jesus called these rulers vipers and serpents and in that hour revealed all the hidden evil they had committed. And the voices of the people in the crowd were raised in execration against these so-called holy men&emdash;as Judas had named them to Jesus&emdash;and some of the multitude went from the Temple and stormed through the streets, shouting imprecations and threats against their blind leaders who cowered and trembled in their houses. They prayed that Pilate's legion would swiftly come and deliver them from this wrath else they were assuredly lost.

But one half of the crowd remained behind. Amongst them a small group of Scribes and Pharisees might now be perceived. Jesus turned towards them and cried: "I shall send unto you prophets, some you will kill, some crucify, others you will scourge and persecute in your towns."

Then Jesus mourned for Jerusalem. God had desired it to be His city and a light in a dark world. But Scribes and Pharisees had betrayed God's trust through their corruption and the evil of their lives. So Jerusalem was a center of darkness and would be left desolate. Strange and terrible was the destruction Jesus foretold.

The Pharisees remained dumb, haunted and stricken by the spell of his words. And when he had made an end, it was not with talk and clamour these people departed from his presence. They went silently, with heads hung down, as if they were mourners following the dead body of a well-loved friend.

Last of all Jesus departed from that House of God.

James loved it as if it were his own home. So he sought to rally the disciples and his Master by speaking of its wonder and its beauty, and he asked Jesus to come through its courts, so that he might show him how true men of God, through God's Spirit, had created this marvel. The other disciples acclaimed his words.

But Jesus said: "Verily, of this Temple there shall not be one stone left upon another that shall not be thrown down.

There was uproar and the cries of stricken people in the streets of the city. Jesus and his disciples went straightway forth from the town. They climbed a hill, and towards evening they halted and Jesus sat down on the Mount of Olives and turned his gaze towards Jerusalem. The disciples grouped themselves about him; Judas lay at his feet, prepared to mark and measure every word uttered by the Master, so that he might make a good report to Annas. For though it seemed to his mind that Jesus had betrayed the people by dividing them through his denunciation of the Pharisees, yet he deemed that all was not lost, that the worldly-wise Annas would put his country first and devise some way whereby the revolt might end in victory. All this Judas told to a friend before his own end.

Now, on that eve the disciples questioned Jesus, asking him for the signs of the things he had declared in the court of the Temple.

His face was dark with trouble as he answered that there would first be rumours of war and nation would rise against nation, many thousands perishing in battle. And this would be followed by pestilence, earthquakes and famine. Then the voice of Jesus became soft and tender as he told the disciples of the work they would do in his name. It was their task to publish his gospel, telling it to all nations. He offered them pain, persecution and all manner of hardship, but not sorrow. For the Holy Spirit that would come upon them would be their comforter in dark and evil days, guarding and sheltering them within the peace of God.

Then Peter cried out joyfully, declaring his willingness to serve the Master faithfully even to the end. But Jesus chid the boaster and said that he would deny his Master within a few days or less.

Sighing, Jesus continued and told of the great slaying how two would be working in a field and one taken and the other left, of the woe of women with child in those days of wrath. So great indeed would be the tribulation, no flesh could be saved unless God shortened the time of affliction for the sake of the elect. And those Twelve men who were about him, trembled and hid their aces, as, rising to his feet, Jesus cried the wrath to come. The sun would be darkened, the moon would give no light in that time of terror. Stars would fall from the heavens, and all this must come to pass before the Son of Man returned in glory and power on Go s right hand.

Lastly, Jesus said what perplexed his disciples in later years. That all these things would come to pass in the lifetime of that generation.

Only to one man, Cleophas, who walked with him after the resurrection, did he show the meaning of this prophecy. By generation he meant all those true men of God, who, through the years to come, believed in and served Christ. And these would be as great in number as the grains of sand in the ocean's bed, and they would be few in each generation, but many in the long history of man over the countless years. So the words "within the lifetime" meant within the lifetime of all Christ's disciples and not of those only who walked with Jesus in Galilee.

As Jesus stood upon the Mount of Olives the army of Pilate broke into the city. His soldiers carried good weapons of war and were well shielded in armor and cunning in the devices of battle. So they attacked and seized, with no great hurt to themselves, Fort Antonia and the Tower of Siloam. Being overcome, numbers of the youths laid down their arms crying for mercy. But no mercy was given, all save the leaders and one or two others were massacred. The walls ran with blood and the cries of the dying shattered the silence that had suddenly fallen over the town.

Barabbas and Jonah were not slain, for it was considered wise to question them and find out if there were others prepared to rise in revolt against Roman rule. Also, it was deemed that their trial and the fearful punishment of the death that would follow it, must impress the people and deter them from gathering together in bands and disturbing again the peace maintained by Roman rule.

CHAPTER XLIII

CERTAIN Pharisees came to the High Priest, Caiaphas, and told him that Jesus had stood at the opening of the tomb of one named Lazarus who had been four days dead.

At the call of this miracle-worker the dead man had come forth alive, in his grave&emdash;clothes with a cloth bound about his jaws. The tale of this miracle was noised abroad among the people and gave Jesus power over them.

Then having debated the matter, Caiaphas took counsel with the elders of the Pharisees.

One of them said: "This Jesus works many miracles. If we let the man alone all the people will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation; for they worship Caesar and call Caesar God. To them no other may govern the people of the earth."

Then the Pharisees turned to the High Priest for a ruling in the matter after two of them had said: "God may be with a Nazarene who can wake the dead."

But Caiaphas answered: "Ye know nothing. It is expedient that one man should die for the people, so that the whole nation will not perish."

After this sentence was spoken, the Pharisees sent out emissaries with orders to kill Jesus. But one of the two who had said in the council that God was with him, warned Peter, and Peter persuaded Jesus to leave Jerusalem and hide in the country round about the city. He was sheltered by certain of the faithful and never stayed long in one house, moving from place to place.

It was at that time a woman came to Jesus and anointed his head with precious ointment.

Perceiving this act Judas cried out against it. Remembering how the Master had condemned the heavy burdens the Pharisees permitted to be laid upon the poor, this disciple said: "Master, this ointment might have been sold for much and given to the poor."

But Jesus answered: "The poor ye have with ye always, but me ye have not always. What this woman hath done is for my burial; and her deed will always be remembered. Wherever the gospel is preached it will be made known."

Thus was Judas rebuked.

As time passed this disciple's jealousy of John, whom Jesus loved, increased; and in a moment of temptation it helped to lead him to betray his Master. There are several causes for one act. So the acts of men are hard to judge, and no offender should be hastily condemned.

When the day of disaster for the young men came, Jerusalem was like a cauldron; the city seethed with many rumours, and no man trusted another, all fearing lest they might be betrayed to the victorious Romans even though they had taken no part in the revolt.

Judas left the company of the disciples and the Master; he was afraid to face them in that time, inasmuch as he was the author of the insurrection. For a while, therefore, with a friend, he hung about, the prison in which Barabbas had been lodged. But in a little time he bade the friend wait for him and went to the house of Annas. He believed he might receive comfort and counsel from this worldly-wise priest, into whose presence he was speedily ushered.

But Annas, the father-in-law of Caiaphas, was displeased when, after much conversation, he failed to lead Judas to witness against Jesus. Again and again he affirmed that Jesus was a man of peace who condemned bloodshed. No skilful questions changed the answers. Iscariot only admitted that he had told certain people that when the rebels gained the victory, Jesus would become the King of the Jews. Some of these men had hailed him with this title in the streets of the city. And Jesus had not then denied his Kingship.

After this talk Annas remained silent, and paced to and fro. Suddenly, as the Scribe who was present related afterwards, this chief priest turned to Judas and said: "I have read thy secrets; I divine that thou didst plan this revolt. Nay, do not deny it. I have respect for thine intention. But how may it be furthered since the young men have been massacred? There is only one way whereby it can be favourably advanced. Find Jesus and give him up to the soldiers. I shall see that charges are made against him, so that he is put in prison and later is tried by Pilate."

"But I cannot betray my Master," protested Judas. "I would rather die in torment than cause his death."

"But he will not die if he is taken," said the priest, "for the people believe in him and all will rise in revolt, so that he may be delivered from prison. There are not so many Roman troops in the city that a whole people cannot overcome them. Verily, Jesus thy Master, may yet be King of the Jews if thou wilt act boldly while still the people believe he is a prophet sent from God."

Then Judas was much uplifted, but he went cautiously saying: "I would not have Jesus slain by certain assassins who go about seeking him."

"Nay, nay," said Annas, "I give my pledge and covenant that the Roman soldiers will go, with thee as their guide, to take him prisoner. For thus will the wrath of the Jews and his followers be turned against the Romans."

And Judas answered: "Yea, I will on those conditions do this thing." Then he bethought him that Barabbas, who lay in prison, should learn of this new plan for a rising of the whole people. So he asked Annas that, as the price of the betrayal, he should be given thirty pieces of silver there and then.

But the old man answered: "Until a merchant perceives the goods he desires to buy, he does not pay the purchase money. The hour after thou hast led the soldiers to Jesus and they have taken him, I will pay thee thirty pieces of silver." Then, for a while longer, they covenanted with each other, and in the end Judas accepted the conditions named by Annas. For as he said to his friend: "It will not be too late even after Jesus is taken, to bribe the gaolers of Barabbas, so that they will let him escape from the prison."

And the friend answered: "That is well said. And for such a great sum, the gaolers will assuredly free our leader so that he may arouse the people and call upon them to deliver Jesus out of the hands of the Romans and set him up as the King of the Jews."

Truly, Iscariot's friend, Baruch, was an evil counsellor in that week of calamity&emdash;he being a Zealot and a man of blood.

Judas came to him saying: "I cannot eat or sleep, for I am in two minds and now no longer know what is right or wrong."

"The thirty pieces of silver are a gaoler's bribe that will free Barabbas," answered Baruch who was his lieutenant.

"But if I betray Jesus to the men of authority, they will slay him when the people led by Barabbas rise up in revolt and seek to deliver the Master."

"Hast thou no faith? Is not Jesus God's own Son?"

"Yea."

"So God will send legions of angels for his defense. Against them the whole might of Caesar cannot prevail."

These words of Baruch comforted and confirmed Judas in his purpose. He repeated them afterwards to the disciples. They were men without guile and had no knowledge of Iscariot's plan of betrayal. Though aware of the peril for Jesus by day and by night because of the Pharisees' hatred, they were much uplifted by this spoken faith in the protection of the Father in Heaven. Heartened, they went about saying to each other, "We will never desert the Master. We are ready to die for him." And Peter took out the sword he had been given from its hiding-place and vowed that if an assassin leaped out of the dark, he would use this sword against him. The sharpness of its blade gave almost an excess of courage to Peter.

But that evening as they sat at supper Jesus said: "Verily, verily, one of you will betray me."

Then they became exceedingly sorrowful, for each one was secretly afraid lest the madness that comes from the pain of torture, would lead him to offend and destroy he who was the Well-beloved, he whom they secretly feared and worshipped.

And everyone of them began to say: "Is it I, Master? is it I?"

Jesus answered: "He who dippeth his hands with me in the dish, the same shall betray. The Son of Man goeth as it is written. But it were good for that man, by whom he is betrayed, if he had never been born."

Then Judas cast a bold glance at the faces of the eleven disciples. He thrust his hand in the dish, and for the last time his hand was joined with the Master's hand therein.

After drawing out his fingers, he asked: "Master, is it I?"

Jesus answered: "Thou hast said."

The other disciples were confounded by this knowledge, and they might have set upon Judas, interrogating him. But Jesus checked them and held up his hand demanding their attention. He spoke of other matters, and so held were they by the spell of his discourse, Judas was, for a short while, forgotten. But he suddenly rose and went out and they were reminded of the accusation, and the answer. Some would have followed him. Again Jesus stayed them with a sign of his hand.

So they all remained to assure the Master of their loyalty, of their determination to die for him. Peter who had the sword spoke the loudest. Turning upon him Jesus sorrowfully said: "Verily, Peter, before the cock crows thou shalt deny me thrice."

But the disciple would not believe his Master, and showed his sword to the others in order to affirm his resolution and courage to them all.

After this conversation they went out into the night. In a little while they became aware of a man following them, but no one turned back to discover him. They believed that God was with them. Still exalted in spirit, they repeated again to Jesus, as they came towards the brook Kedron, that they were prepared to face torment and death rather than deny him.

This time he did not answer their proud boasting, and after a minute of silence, bade eight of the disciples remain at the mouth of the garden of Gethsemane. Even as they halted there came a small noise, and the man who had followed them, slipped by, entering the garden. Then they debated among themselves and believed that when Jesus had said to Judas "That thou doest, do quickly", he had become ashamed and therefore, had not gone to the chief priest, but had waited on the road and now was in the garden. So they were almost assured of safety for that night.

Jesus called Peter, James and John, and led these three disciples away from the others, entering Gethsemane.

He became very heavy and said: "My soul is exceeding sorrowful unto death. Tarry ye here. Watch and pray."

Now the one who had followed and spied upon the brethren was a youth named Mark, a kinsman of Peter. He was little more than a boy, but he worshipped Jesus, believing him to be the Christ. It was his great desire to be chosen to walk with the Master. Having learned of his peril, he had placed a knife in his girdle and, wearing but one linen garment, had come hastily from his home.

Fearing rebuke from his kinsman, Peter, he had hidden himself in the garden, and he alone kept the vigil of that night. Then in a later season, having learned to be a scribe, he wrote down all that he witnessed during that dark time.

The three disciples began to pray as Jesus went forward a little way among the trees. And he fell upon the ground and prayed. "Father, with thee all things are possible. Take away this cup from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt."

Then he rose and came to the three disciples and found them asleep.

He said to Peter: "Simon sleepest thou? Couldst thou not watch for one hour? Watch and pray. Truly the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."

Jesus went back among the trees and cried out the same words. Then when he had returned a second time, the three disciples had again fallen asleep. For they, too, deemed that Judas was shamed and had repented of his plan of treachery. So, as they had watched night after night for assassins sent by Pharisees, they were spent and fell asleep from sorrow and the weariness that might no longer be endured.

Jesus went away a third time, and he knelt in an open space, speaking the same prayer. Being in an agony, great drops of sweat like blood dropped from him to the ground.

Mark could no longer bear to witness such desolation and loneliness. He rose from among the trees and made steps forward. But not heeding him, Jesus rose also, and he went back to the three disciples and said: "Sleep on now and take your rest. It is enough. The hour is come. Behold, the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners."

"Rise and let us go. Judas who betrays me is at hand."

These words caused the sleepers to leap to their feet. Peter snatched up his sword and was a man again, a man of wrath prepared to fight and defend his Master.

Now when Judas left the supper table he went to where lived Annas. And he perceived a great number of people in the court-yard of his house. Some of these were Pharisees who hated Jesus, others were men of the town. But this was the appointed time, so the priest's servant hailed Iscariot as he tarried, and he compelled him to come straightway into the presence of Annas.

Then Judas challenged the priest, saying: "Thou hast not kept to our bargain. Where are the promised Roman soldiers?"

Annas answered: "It was to forward thy plan I gathered these people together. They will take Jesus to safety, to the palace of the High Priest. The Romans would, peradventure, buffet or slay Jesus in their anger because of the revolt. Also these people, Pharisees and good men of the town, are prepared, immediately after the taking of Jesus, to make a great noise and demand of Pilate to fulfill the custom of the Festival and release a prisoner. They will ask for the freedom of Barabbas. Once he is free he will call on all the people to rise in revolt and rescue their Master, Jesus. Then the High Priest will hand Jesus over to them&emdash;whole in body and prepared to take his seat upon the throne as King of the Jews."

These guileful words satisfied Judas, and he placed himself at the head of the people who waited, and led them along the road to the garden of Gethsemane.

CHAPTER XLIV

THE night was dark; a cold wind blew over Jerusalem. The people remained within doors. They were afraid of the Roman soldiers, of the Jews in authority, afraid for their own lives. The emissaries of Annas had whispered among them that Jesus was not only a malefactor, author of revolution, but also a messenger of Satan who had said he could destroy God's Temple in three days. Whether these words were true or not true, members of the multitude, who had praised the Nazarite Prophet in the streets of Jerusalem, feared lest they might be named as his disciples, and many men who had perceived salvation in his teachings now saw only perdition in them.

Few therefore, were abroad when a great company of Pharisees and their hirelings marched out of the town. They followed the path that led to Kedron. They went silently. But the light of their torches and lanterns caused the cluster of disciples at the mouth of the garden to withdraw into the darkness. Such was the terror of the flesh they gave no warning to the Master, but mingled in the rear with the men of the crowd that entered Gethsemane.

Jesus was speaking to the three brethren as Judas, at the head of his band, came to that open space and, not faltering, approached the Master. It had been agreed that he would kiss him as a sign that he would be the one to be taken. But as Judas had said to Baruch, the kiss was for himself a sign of the assertion that he was first and not last among the disciples, that he came before Peter, James and John whom Jesus loved. When, therefore, he gave the kiss, his spirit was triumphant at the presence of these three witnesses. For he believed, as he afterwards confessed, that his was not a betrayal but a deliverance. God would preserve the Christ, His only Son, deliver him at the appointed hour, deliver the nation, and then place the Son upon the throne as King of the Jews.

After the kiss Jesus called him "friend" then, suddenly turning to the menacing crowd, said: "Art thou come out against me with swords and staves? Daily I preached peace and love of your neighbor to ye in the Temple."

Awed, troubled, by his radiance and by his reproach, they fell back a pace. Then, one bolder than the others, thrust himself forward and laid a hand upon the Master's shoulder, menacing him with a stave.

But there was one among the disciples who was not afraid in that hour. Peter fell upon this man and smote him, cutting off his ear with a sword.

Jesus turned to the disciple saying: "Put up thy sword into its place. He who takes up the sword perishes by the sword."

Abashed, Peter flung it down, and Judas who was nearest of the men to these two, was so enraged and filled with jealousy, he thrust Peter backwards into the press of people, and thus he became lost in the confusion that followed, and was not arrested for this deed of blood and taken away with his Master.

It is true that two men struggled with him, but he being strong cast them off, while the hirelings bound Jesus with ropes, and the crowd shouted their wrath and hate. Presently their leader quelled them and they drew back, suffering Jesus to be led forward by his captors. As they came to the road the witness in the garden, the youth Mark, joined him, and in his hand was a knife. It was his intention to cut the bonds that bound Jesus so that he might escape into the darkness beyond the circle of light made by the torches. But perceiving the gleam of the blade, young men laid hands on Mark before he came to the side of the Master. Struggling with them he freed himself by leaving his linen garment in their hands, and he fled from them naked into the night.

The sudden terror of the quailing flesh had possessed this brave youth also. But afterwards he wandered desolately over the hillside through the darkness, weeping with anger and shame because he had failed to save the Master and might be numbered with those eleven disciples who had deserted him in the hour of his great need.

At a distance Peter followed the marching men, and when Jesus was taken to the palace of the High Priest, he joined others who entered into a room where the servants sat and made a fire. They talked of Jesus, and, speaking of him as a malefactor and blasphemer, declared that he would be condemned to death and would die in slow torment.

Hour after hour Peter listened to them, sitting there silently, and he became more and more afraid. No strength remained with him because of the weariness of the body and his fear of torture. So, thrice, when he was accosted and challenged, he denied that he was a disciple of Jesus of Nazareth.

Afterwards he went out and, like Mark, wept bitterly.

CHAPTER XLV

ON the night of the taking of Jesus, the council of the Pharisees assembled at the palace of the High Priest. Caiaphas addressed them, saying: "We shall give this Nazarene a fair trial. No innocent prisoner is ever condemned by us." Thus he would right the wrong of his saying&emdash;"It is expedient that one man should die for the people".

All the learned elders applauded his words as Jesus was dragged bound into the court. Then an order was given that his bonds be loosed. So when he was freed he could stand up straight and face his judges, thus giving an example even to Roman justice.

He was not tall and was slender in build. Many of these elders wore rich robes and were great in girth. Yet all men in the court soon were held by the spell of his presence, by the condemning truth of his glance. It made false witnesses falter and halt in their speech. But first Caiaphas spoke courteously, examining him with questions as to his doctrine.

Proudly the Master answered: "Behold I taught daily in the Temple and no man protested or laid any hand on me. Ask those who hearkened, for my doctrine."

Then a guard smote Jesus on the face with his hand saying: "Answerest thou the High Priest so?"

But Caiaphas rebuked the man for his violence and then called for the witnesses.

One by one the hirelings of these Pharisees, who were incensed against Jesus, came and told their false stories. He was a seditious fellow, who had roused up the youth of the city and country, given them arms and caused 'them to rise against Caesar and seize Fort Antonia and the Tower of Siloam, also he called himself the King of the Jews. He was an author of revolution, an inciter of murder and massacre so should die.

Then Joseph, one of the three Pharisees of integrity, said: "But Barabbas has made full confession in the prison and has said that he and Jonah alone are guilty; that Jesus is a man of peace. Yea, and these words of his are proved true. For certain Pharisees questioned Jesus and he answered 'Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's and unto God the things that are God's'. Verily this Jesus has spoken many unseemly things as to the conduct and life of us Pharisees. But for what he has said against us he does not deserve death."

The other members of the council frowned upon this just man and together began to speak. Caiphas was proud of the dignity of his court so silenced them with a sign of his hand. He was sore perplexed because these false witnesses had been trapped in the net of their own lies. And again when questioned on his doctrine, Jesus held his peace.

For this moment Annas had waited. Previously admonished for the open hatred he had displayed against Jesus, he had gone softly and had presented so far no false witnesses at this trial. But now he beckoned to two men in the assembled crowd and prayed the High Priest to hear them.

The first witness said that in a discourse Jesus had condemned the traders in the Temple and had incited youths to make a riot there and drive them forth. After this tumult these same youths had attacked the two forts and taken them from the Romans. Clearly, therefore, Jesus was the author of the insurrection, and he had dissembled when he had preached peace and bidden the people to go in all quietness, not resisting authority; and when he had commanded them to obey Caesar and follow the observances of worship, decreed by those who sat in Moses' seat. Out of his own mouth Jesus had condemned himself by saying "I am able to destroy this Temple and in three days build it again".

The second witness briefly testified to the truth of the utterances of these words. But when Jesus was taxed with them by the High Priest, he answered nothing.

There was a murmur then like the hum of angry bees in that court; there came the whispered condemnation, the muttered demand for scourging and death. But all waited, all looked towards the dais where Annas spoke low to his son-in-law, putting words in his mouth. Presently Caiaphas rose to his feet, and he was great in stature, a majestic figure of wrath, as he turned towards Jesus with hand raised, crying out: "I abjure thee in the Name of the living God that thou tellest us whether thou be the Christ, the Son of God?"

Jesus answered: "Thou hast said. Nevertheless, I say unto you that, before the Judgment, the Son of Man shall be seen seated on the right hand of power and coming on the clouds of Heaven."

A clamour arose at these words. But after a moment it ceased as the High Priest rent his clothes and shouted: "This fellow has spoken blasphemy. What further need have we of testimony? What think ye?"

And they all answered: "He is guilty of death," and they made a great noise demanding that he should be scourged and crucified.

But again Annas whispered in the ear of Caiaphas, and Caiaphas rose and reminded them that it was not lawful to put a man to death at the time of the Feast; that the hour of the Passover was with them, and the law must be observed. So, like wild beasts, some of the Pharisees set upon Jesus; they smote him and spat in his face. Buffeting him and bruising his body with blows, they mocked saying: "Prophesy who smote thee. If thou art what thou has said, tell us the names of those who struck thee and prove thy power."

But Jesus held his peace. And some were shamed and the greater number silenced by the nobility of that stillness and by the blood that fell from the face of this baited but unbroken Son of Man.

Caiaphas frowned on what was unseemly disorder on the part of elders, and he commanded the servants to bind Jesus and watch him, then he adjourned the council.

Night's candles were burnt out. Jesus lay deserted in that court save for his guards. But as the first light of dawn showed over the city he slept, only stirring and murmuring now and then, "My Father, my God." And as one guard said: "His was the slumber of no blasphemer; his was the look and the sleep of an innocent man."

CHAPTER XLVI

JOSEPH of Arimathea was a rich man, a councillor and a secret disciple of the Master. He had said all he dared utter in defense of Jesus at the trial. Leaving it in the hour before dawn, he hastened to the Palace. Pilate was his friend and sought his counsel, but did not always take it, in affairs of government. In that hour before dawn the governor was awake, his mind vexed by reports of the turbulent spirit of the Jews. So he immediately gave audience to Joseph who might answer riddles, and thus present him with the key of sleep.

The councillor was at ease in the presence of his friend and opened his heart to him. He spoke of the twisted ways of the Pharisees and priests, of their corruption and hypocrisy and of how Jesus had denounced the evil of their lives. He made the weary Pilate laugh as he repeated the words of truth the Master had spoken concerning these men of power. Then the story of the trial was told, and Joseph spoke bitterly of himself because he had tempered the character of his discourse in that time, fearing the wrath of the elders and the High Priest.

Lastly, Joseph spoke of their accusations and told of how Jesus had exhorted the multitude, praying them to go into the wilderness and make a kingdom in which there would be neither money nor taxes, where the one coinage was love of little children, of all men, and most of all, love of God.

Again Pilate laughed and said: "A poet's dream. There is no room in this world for their dreams." And he sighed and continued: "The better part for men is what we Romans practice&emdash;stern justice strictly maintained, order and government; all this would perish if a poet were king and ruled. But we have no fear of the poets. Men may pass the time listening to their words; but they speedily forget them when in the arms of women, or when at work or fighting. Nevertheless, I am concerned for thy prophet. Roman justice should shelter and guard men of vision: our justice is greater than the righteousness of your elders and scribes, inasmuch as it is untainted by hypocrisy or self-seeking." Thus he spoke, giving assurance to the sorrowful councillor who mourned that his own people in authority should not only fail to perceive the truth, but should openly endeavor to destroy its source.

Meantime, in the half hour Jesus slept, Pharisees and Scribes took counsel together, and they determined that the governor should cause Jesus to be crucified. So presently, a great number of them led him to Pilate.

They repeated their false witness against him saying:

We find this fellow perverting the whole nation, forbidding to give tribute to Caesar. Jesus is the author of the insurrection. He calls himself Christ, the King."

Then the governor asked Jesus: "Art thou the King of the Jews?"

Jesus answered: "Thou sayest it. Nevertheless, my Kingdom is not of this world. It is of another."

And Pilate muttered: "Thou art wiser than the poets to set thy kingdom in another life." Again he laughed and despite his weariness declared himself pleased with Jesus. His presence bad power even over this worldly-wise Gentile.

But the elders were waiting for an answer, and Pilate turned to them saying: "I find no fault in this man."

Then they became the more furious, crying out

He stirreth up the whole people, beginning in Galilee and proceeding throughout all Jewry. Everywhere he seeks to overthrow Caesar's authority."

At this Pilate frowned and asked: "Is the man a Galilean?"

And they answered: "Yea, and of Nazareth."

So, liking not the words uttered about Caesar, Pilate ordered that Jesus should be taken to Herod, for Galilee was in his jurisdiction. And Herod was glad to receive Jesus; long time he had desired to talk with one famed throughout his province for working miracles and for announcing great truths.

But to all the questions of this king, Jesus answered nothing.

The Chief Priest and Scribes violently accused him of striving to overthrow authority, to make himself King of the Jews.

But Herod, like Pilate, perceived the nobility of his soul. He had learned what Pilate did not know, that this Galilean had worked many miracles and spoken strange words of truth. So he sought to preserve the life of Jesus by calling him a fool, a crazed fellow, who was not worth the time wasted on a crucifixion.

At the bidding of Herod his men of war bowed down in mock reverence to this King, and they put on him a gorgeous purple robe. Thus was a jest made of the Son of God.

Privily Herod sent word to Pilate that this Nazarite had roused the envy of turbulent priests and that he was unjustly accused. And these two, who had been at enmity, now became friends through their desire to save a man whom one called prophet and the other poet.

CHAPTER XLVII

IMMEDIATELY after the taking of Jesus, Judas was paid thirty pieces of silver by the treasurer of the High Priest. Exalted, full of dreams, he went into the city and sought out lieutenants of Barabbas who had been moving among the people, gathering up the gossip of the town.

They said Keep thy thirty pieces of silver in thy wallet; they are not required. The priests have moved the people to ask Pilate to free Barabbas. The mob acclaim Barabbas as a mighty man of valour who took up the sword in the cause of freedom. But not one of them would follow Barabbas if he sought to make further insurrection to release Jesus; and indeed the Romans have seen to it, that our leader should not enlist in another revolt. He has been maimed and mutilated and can never carry a sword again. Hence Pilate will present us with a gift of no value in the person of Barabbas. But now the mass of the people are afraid and will not lift a finger for the deliverance of Jesus, because an ignorant mob of men, bribed by Pharisees, go about murmuring and menacing with death the disciples of Jesus, and they seek them from street to street. These fellows spit upon the name of the Prophet of Galilee. They mock at his saying that he is the Christ, Son of God. For no miracle was performed in the garden at his taking, no legion of angels came to his defense."

Hearing these words Judas hastened from these men's hiding place, and he went about Jerusalem, and everywhere he found confirmation for all that had been said.

Lastly, Iscariot came upon Baruch, who, at his bidding, had waited in the hall in the company of Peter and the servants of the High Priest. His friend's countenance was sorrowful, his eyes cast down, he mourned for the infirmities of Barabbas who had been a robber and slayer of men all his days. To him, too, this Jew was a mighty man of valour, whose great deeds and courage were extolled by him.

"What tidings of the Master?" Judas impatiently cried.

"He has been condemned to death by Caiaphas and has been sent to Pilate for confirmation of this sentence. Do not mourn for him, he was a man of little account as are all those men who preach peace."

And as Judas cried out wrathfully at this saying, Baruch said: "Jesus was so much a weak, craven fellow, he commanded Peter, who struck bravely in his defense, to put up his sword."

"But I believe Jesus is Son of God," groaned Judas. "Where then are God's angels? Why did they not deliver him out of the hands of his enemies?"

"Because he was only Son of Man," answered Baruch.

"Only Son of Man."

With this cry Judas fled from Baruch, and in that hour his faith that the Master was the Christ wholly forsook him; and he became possessed by a devil, throwing himself upon the earth, casting dust upon his face and head.

Baruch followed this stricken man, but his words of comfort only angered his friend. For he rejoiced in Iscariot's safety, that he had come scatheless through all this turbulence, and the priests would assuredly lay no hand on him. Whereas their servants were roaming to and fro seeking the eleven disciples, so that they, too, might be taken and crucified.

In answer Judas cried: "Woe unto me, woe. Truly the Master said, 'It were better if this man had not been born'." Then he turned about and hastened to the house of Annas, who was conversing with other Pharisees and rejoicing with them, because now, such was the temper of the mob and Caiaphas, Jesus must die.

Into the presence of these people Judas thrust himself. He made no reverence to authority in their person, but flung down before them the thirty pieces of silver, saying: "I have betrayed innocent blood. Take back the price of the betrayal."

"What is that to us?" answered Annas, "see to it."

Then he turned to a servant and bade him lead Iscariot away.

He went, calling down curses on this priest who had cheated him with dreams of power, who had led him to betray his well-beloved Master. Then he left Baruch with one strange sentence which he harboured all his days.

"I loved the Master and have always loved him more than any of the disciples, more even than Peter and John. For these will not give their lives for him, they have fled and will remain in safe hiding. But I shall give my life, because for me this world is a desert without Jesus, whom I still love, though he be only Son of Man."

That night, after the multitude had called for Barabbas and for the death of Jesus in the streets of the city, Judas Iscariot went to a solitary place without Jerusalem and hanged himself.

Baruch found his body; he buried it in a potter's field that was bought with the thirty pieces of silver, the price of blood.

CHAPTER XLVIII

SEEKING to continue the strategy of Herod, Pilate caused the soldiers to make a crown of thorns and set it upon the Master's head.

In the presence of the priests these soldiers bowed themselves down, hailing him: "Jesus, King of the Jews", and smiting his face with the palms of their hands.

Then suddenly Pilate cried: "It is enough," and when they ceased in their railing, the governor said to the elders: "Neither I nor Herod find any fault in this man. Let me, therefore, release him according to the custom of the Festival."

But they asked for Barabbas, and the mob outside the Judgment Hall shouted for Barabbas, praying for his instant release.

"And what of Jesus?" asked Pilate, speaking to them from the steps of the door.

"Crucify him, crucify him," they bawled, and then cried out their wrath saying: "His blood be upon us, and our children. Crucify the Nazarite, crucify him."

When Pilate was in the Judgment Hall his wife sent a messenger to him, who repeated her words, saying: "Have nothing to do with the condemnation of this just man, Jesus. I have suffered this day many things in a dream because of him."

Leaving his seat Pilate sought to go to his wife, but Annas and two Jews followed him saying: "By our law Jesus ought to die because he made himself Son of God."

Troubled by their clamorous speech, Pilate again went into the Judgment Hall and said to Jesus: "Whence art thou?" But the Master made no answer.

Marvelling at his silence Pilate sternly said: "Knowest thou I have power to crucify thee or release thee?"

Jesus answered: "Thou hadst not power over me except it were given thee from above. But the man who has delivered me into your hands is the greater in fault."

Perplexed, Pilate went straightway to his wife. She was a Roman matron of pure life and with a great desire for wisdom that she might impart to her children whom she loved beyond all else on earth. Joseph of Arimathea was her friend and had told her many things concerning Jesus; and in the truths he taught he seemed to her unlike any other man. Though she had never seen him she came to believe in him, and thus she was rewarded for her faith with a warning dream. She related it to her husband saying: "Behold, I was lifted up, carried through the air, and I visited many countries in another time and generation. As I journeyed I perceived that great numbers of people were beaten, tortured or starved. Their woe and their pain became my woe and pain. At last I could no more endure the sight of the anguish of these people. For though they perished in agony their children sprang up and they likewise suffered. Then, in my need, I cried for mercy, and behold a young man, in dark robes, stood beside me, coming between me and these sights and sounds of agony. And I asked him why are these people thus tormented age after age, and he answered: 'They are beaten and thus afflicted by men of power in the Name of Jesus Christ'."

"But he is all love, all mercy," I answered.

"Yea, but the men who do these things are evil. They say the fathers of these children killed Jesus, so they punish them in each generation, time and time again."

"But the children are innocent," I cried.

"Yea, but the heart of the men of power is defiled and corrupt. They delight in persecution, and thus they make their excuse for it. Countless men, women and children will suffer thus, because in a far time, their fathers crucified the Son of God."

"Can this not be changed?" I asked.

"What is written cannot be changed because of the evil in men's hearts."

Then Pilate's wife took him by the hand and led him into a garden where their two children played. Her husband was moved by the sight of these little ones and more moved by her saying: "This curse will fall on our children and on our children's children if thou dost condemn Jesus and cause him to be crucified."

"But great is our own and our children's peril if I come between this priest and this man. For Caesar may well censure me for preserving the life of the Nazarite whom they say called himself King of the Jews. Thus he sets himself above the Emperor. Annas and his fellows have cried: 'If thou dost let this Nazarite go, thou art not Caesar's friend'."

For answer this Roman matron knelt before her husband and prayed him with tears and cries to have no part in the condemnation of Jesus.

Presently he left her without making any answer. But when he came again to the Hall and took his place on the judgment seat, he caused a basin of water to be set before him.

There had been murmuring and cries from the crowd of "Death" and "Crucify Jesus" and other wrathful words. Now silence fell as the governor stood up and held out his hands to the people. Then he washed them saying: "I am innocent of the blood of this just person, Jesus. I find no fault in him, so therefore pass no sentence of death."

On his orders the soldiers scourged Jesus and struck him with a reed. Like Herod's servants they knelt down making mock of the Master. But soon Pilate perceived that this punishment could not save the prophet in whom his wife believed. And, troubled by the counsel of his advisers, who gave tidings of tumult and uproar in the streets without, he commanded that the prisoner should be delivered into the hands of the people of his own nation. Thus he passed no sentence of death, and in a later hour he assured his wife that no curse would fall upon them and their children. It would fall upon the Jews. She was comforted, but mourned the destruction of good by evil, and she prayed Pilate to grant any favour Joseph asked in what concerned Jesus.

CHAPTER XLIX

When Jesus set out carrying the cross, certain faithful and fearless women came to the edge of the crowd that was about him, and they perceived that he fell, and a stranger named Simon, who loved Jesus, was granted the task of carrying the cross for him.

Then the women were thrust back by men who knew that two of them were of the kin of Jesus and mocked at them and menaced them with staves. But Mary Clopas still believed that a miracle would be wrought. She told the mother of Jesus and the disciple, John, who had joined them, that, in a little while, angels were coming; these would take Jesus down from the cross, and thus he would live to be glorified by all men.

John did not heed her words, but accompanied the women. Presently two of them were near enough to Jesus to speak to him, and, as he struggled to walk after the man who carried the cross, he spoke in answer to their sorrowful cries: "Mourn not for me, but mourn for Jerusalem, for the woe and tribulation that will come upon its people."

In the first hour the Master hung upon the cross he gave his mother into the charge of the disciple he loved. Then the women were thrust back from him. Later they might approach nearer, and they perceived his blood, his sweat. But on that still, dark day no great light came, there was no miracle. They heard only the reviling and mockery of priests and scribes who passed by the tree, wagging their heads, saying: "If thou art King of Israel, Son of God, come down from the cross. He saved others, himself he cannot save." Then certain of them became incensed and said Behold the superscription, 'Jesus, King of the Jews'." And they spoke angrily against Pilate, the governor, who had caused this title to be placed on the head of the cross. Thus he showed his contempt for the Jews who had compelled him to yield up the body of Jesus to them.

Then others came and reviled Jesus. And at last he broke the silence saying: "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do."

One of the two thieves, who were hanging beside him, also taunted him and mocked at his title "Son of God". But the other thief was moved in spirit, and, after rebuking this fellow, prayed Jesus for comfort because he was afraid of the lonely night of death.

Jesus answered him with words of peace and said:

This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise."

It grew darker. At the sixth hour night fell. Then the multitude about the cross became afraid and withdrew in haste, fearing some calamity through that unnatural darkness. Only the soldiers and centurion remained. So the women who loved Jesus drew near the cross, and they prayed with all their hearts for the miracle which they believed would now be accomplished.

Lanterns were brought by the soldiers and these lit up that night. Time passed. There was little air to breathe and there was no change, the fearful stillness continued, it was broken only by the murmur of the soldiers as they cast lots for their share of the Master's garments, and broken now and then by a cry or groan from the two thieves.

The women continued to pray and to watch for the coming of the angels. But there was no movement or change. Even if they were there unseen, they did not release the prisoner. Jesus remained hanging in his agony upon the cross.

At last the darkness lifted; fight, pale and dull, stole over the earth and town. Suddenly Jesus cried: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Mary Clopas flung herself weeping upon the earth. For she believed then, that the angels would not come, that Jesus could not descend from the cross and live, even as Lazarus had lived.

There would be no return for him from the shadows, no return to confound his enemies.

Though the women were some distance from the cross, they all heard that forsaken cry. And they knelt and prayed for the soul that they believed was passing hence.

At the bidding of the centurion a man gave Jesus vinegar on a reed. When he had drunk it he said

It is finished," and yielded up the ghost.

Then the earth shook, walls fell, graves yawned and cast up their dead. Certain men who were abroad, saw the spirits of the righteous walking in the streets of the city.

And the centurion was afraid and said: "Truly, this stranger was Son of God."

Mary Magdalene told the women that they must now cease from praying for a spirit that had departed. Jesus was not dead, he slept. But they did not believe her, and weeping and mourning, they followed from afar his body when it was taken to a sepulchre that Joseph had caused to be built for himself. For Pilate had said he might have the body if Jesus was truly dead.

After the tomb was sealed the women returned to their homes to rest. They were sore spent with grief and the desolation of loss. Only two women kept vigil for the greater part of that night. They were Mary Clopas and Mary Magdalene. But the one who had been a harlot, alone in all the world at that hour, believed that Jesus lived, believed in a glorious resurrection. Then they, too, rested and slept, and that was the Sabbath day.

While it was still dark, on the first morning of the week, Mary Clopas prepared spices with which to anoint the body of the Master. At the rising of the sun, she carried them to the sepulchre, and she was accompanied by the Magdalene.

It was a holy dawn. After two dark days the first light blessed the earth with a strange purity.

Now, the two women had seen the tomb closed with a great stone which was sealed by the servants of the Pharisees. But in that hour they perceived that the stone was rolled away. The guards lay as still as the dead upon the ground outside the sepulchre.

So Mary and the Magdalene were able, without, molestation, to enter the tomb. In the dull light they perceived a man in white clothes that shone; but presently, when amazement loosed its hold on them, they perceived that no body lay there.

They trembled and became sore afraid. But the angel said: "Be not affrighted. Why seek ye the living among the dead? Jesus of Nazareth is risen. He is not here. Behold the place where they laid him."

Then he told the women to give these good tidings to the disciples, and they were afraid and yet joyful, hoping that presently they might see the Master.

But when they were out of the tomb, fear seized them in its grip. Mary said: "Peradventure, his body has been stolen. Therefore we will not linger here."

The Magdalene only went a little way with her. She was not afraid of Pharisee or Scribe, and she believed that she might find her Lord in the garden of the sepulchre. But as she lingered she wept; for she saw only a white haired man who walked slowly among the trees. Nevertheless, her faith in the Son of God and in his conquest over death was rewarded. She learnt that the stranger was indeed the Master. He said: "Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to my Father in Heaven."

At his bidding, she ran and told the disciples that their Lord had risen, and Mary Clopas, whom she had found near the gate, was with her and testified to what she had seen.

The disciples would not believe the story of the Magdalene, though Peter cast off fear and went to the sepulchre and perceived that the body was not there. Other women of the little band, that had followed their Lord from Galilee, had been to the tomb before him. They saw two men in shining robes; and one was at the head and the other at the foot of the place where Jesus had lain. These women joined Mary and the Magdalene in testifying to the rising of their Master.

But the eleven disciples would not believe in the further testimony of the Magdalene, that she had seen Jesus and talked with him in the garden. Not yet was their faith established, for not yet had the Holy Ghost come unto them in power.

Afterwards Jesus walked with Cleophas and another disciple in the country without Jerusalem. But in this older man they did not perceive their Master. They went with him and were astonished at the wisdom he imparted to them. After a while the three came to an inn and the two disciples said: "Sir, we pray thee eat with us, for we have fasted all the day."

(In these writings Cleophas and Clopas are the same man; There were, through may be, the ignorance of the earlier scribes, two ways of writing his name. There was often confusion in names because of the Gentiles who gave one title to a man while another was given to him by his own tribe. At one time Cleophas traded much with the Gentiles and for that purpose bore the trader's name, Alphaeus.)

And they sat at meat together and the brethren became comforted for their loss by the peace this stranger gave to them. But when he took bread, blessed it and broke it, their eyes were opened, and they knew by the likeness of the older face to the younger face they had last perceived in Gethsemane, that they sat with Jesus. Also the gesture in the blessing and breaking of bread, told them who was this stranger. Even as this knowledge became theirs the Master vanished from their sight.

But it came to pass, that Jesus was only at certain times with his disciples after his resurrection.

He appeared to the ten disciples when they sat at meat together on the evening that followed the day he was with Cleophas, and he rebuked these men for their hardness of heart, their unbelief. Then, when they had expressed their contrition and for the first time showed humility of soul, he forgave them and said: "Receive ye the Holy Ghost," and promised that, through its power, they would publish the tidings of the gospel to many races of people, not only in their own land, but in other countries and far places.

After speaking thus Jesus vanished from the presence of the ten disciples.

But Thomas, who was not there, refused to believe that they had seen the Master and talked with him.

"Ye may, peradventure, have perceived his spirit," he said; "but Jesus himself has not risen as he promised." Then even as Thomas Didymus uttered these words, the Master stood in the midst of them; and he showed the unbeliever the print of the nails on his hands and feet and also the wound in his side, into which the disciple put his hand.

Jesus partook of fish and honey and said: "A spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye see me have."

To this saying the stubborn Thomas could make no answer. But suddenly he broke and weeping flung himself at the feet of Jesus and prayed for his forgiveness and comfort that would draw him out of the dark pit of shame which he had digged for himself.

He also was forgiven.

Jesus was again and again seen in various places by his disciples. He appeared suddenly and as suddenly disappeared. Each time he was a little changed, becoming in outward light more like an angel than a man.

He spoke to the disciples of the Kingdom of God and bade them wait in Jerusalem from the day he ascended into Heaven for the Promise of the Father.

Many brethren prayed that they might be permitted to see the Master once more. So Peter gathered five hundred of them together in solitary country. It was early morning before the hot sun beat upon the earth. No wind blew. They all knelt and prayed. Then James bade them keep silent watch, and they were united in one faith and gathered into the stillness of God.

At last Jesus came, and he stood with raised hands, speaking from a high place. Amongst other things he said that some of them would bear witness to him in Judaea and in Samaria and some in the uttermost parts of the earth. The bodies of men were dust to dust at death; but his resurrection had shown them that the soul would rise even as he, Jesus had risen. Then he spoke of the time when he would come again. And after that the raised hand gave the blessing which was also the sign of farewell.

He withdrew a little way and on the mountain spoke to the eleven disciples and told them certain secret things which they never revealed. Then further counsel was given. And when he had finished speaking he was taken up, and a cloud received him from their sight.

But two men clothed in white, came for their comfort and with the tidings that Jesus was ascended to his Father. So the disciples did not sorrow, but went to Jerusalem to await the fulfillment of the Promise with peace in their hearts.

It was afterwards believed by certain of the brethren that the body of Jesus was changed into a finer substance, in which it vanished from the tomb and the sight of men and swiftly reappeared in another place. When a soldier thrust a spear into the side of Jesus, the silver cord of life was broken, but the spirit of Jesus, through the power of God and his angels, commanded and governed the crucified body, so it did not decay and change into a handful of dust in the sepulchre. The golden bowl was not broken, though the ghost had been yielded up by Jesus, his spirit through and within the golden bowl, governed the earthly body for forty days, and in it Jesus appeared to his disciples to declare his resurrection and give them tidings of everlasting life.

Hermits, who had studied these matters, said that, in Paradise, of which Jesus had spoken, the spirits of the dead were apparelled in bodies of a finer substance than the dust of earth. So with the eyes of the flesh men could not perceive them as they lived in their world. Because, in all their parts their bodies travelled at a greater speed than rocks or earth, they were not seen by man. Thus after the Resurrection, the outward form of the Master lived in two worlds for forty days. When travelling at the greater speed, it passed through the walls of a house and appeared in a room to the disciples by falling back into the slower measure of earth. Likewise his body changed to the time and speed of another world when it vanished from the sight of Cleophas and his companion, after the Master had walked with them and broken bread, blessing it.

Only once it seemed to the Son of Man that the Resurrection would not be accomplished. That was when he cried: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

In their encounter with him neither Cleophas nor the Magdalene knew him. Because of the agony on the cross and the severance of the silver cord, the Master's countenance had aged beyond recognition.

When Jesus was on the cross, the hermits said that he had yielded up the ghost or image of the body. This ghost unites body and soul, and death severs these two. So, during the forty days after his death, the spirit of Jesus directly governed his body, maintaining its structure. Thus he was able to appear in it to his disciples and still to live in the rhythm and measure of earth. Other seers have at rare times changed the speed of their bodies, vanishing and, in a moment, appearing in another place. But Jesus was the one Son of Man who accomplished this after death, after yielding up the ghost. So it was said that death had no domination over him, that he was Lord of Life and death, and therefore the Son of God, the only begotten of the Father.

NOTE ON THE INSURRECTION

by E. B. GIBBES.

IN 1929 a book by the Austrian scholar, Dr. Robert Eisler, was published in English. It is called The Messiah Jesus, and it is founded on the recovery by Dr. Eisler of some repressed passages of Flavius Josephus. The parts brought to light for the first time in this country "have been excerpted from the old Russian rendering of the lost Greek text of a practically otherwise unknown work of Josephus". (The Quest, p. 22, October 1929).

Dr. Eisler's reconstruction refers particularly to that part which appears to give further details of an incident only lightly touched upon in John vi, 15: "When Jesus therefore perceived that they would come and take him by force, to make him a king, he departed again into a mountain himself alone." This one verse, is, I believe, the only allusion in the New Testament to what was, apparently, a very serious happening.

It seems that Dr. Eisler's discovery amplifies this incident. In his resume of The Messiah Jesus, published in The Observer for March 15th, Principal L. P. Jacks wrote as follows:

"Beginning as a pacifist revolutionary patriot… Jesus presently realizes that these methods are ineffective for the purpose he has in view&emdash;that of leading his people to a promised land, in which he himself is to be their Messiah-King. Thereupon, with an inner circle or bodyguard of chosen followers… he marches to Jerusalem with the intention of occupying the temple (apparently with a minimum of violence), destroying it as a center of worship, and then, as a second Moses, leading the people forth in a new Exodus to a purer worship 'in the wilderness.' On the way to the city he collects a multitude of followers, some of them revolutionary zealots, whose habit it was to carry two curved daggers concealed beneath their cloaks and known to the Roman authorities as sicarii, or 'sickle men'&emdash;offenders to be cut down at the first sign of activity. Accompanied by a large following of a mixed kind, now swelled to about a thousand, he enters Jerusalem, acclaimed by shouting multitudes who hail him as the Son of David. With little difficulty he takes possession of the Temple, the adjoining fortress of Antonia, and the strong Tower of Siloam at the other end of the walls, the whole of the city, owing to the absence of the main Roman forces at Caesarea, being thus, for the moment, in his power…. Meanwhile, a Roman legion, in response to an S.O.S. from the infuriated priests, is marching hot-foot from Caesarea. They arrive on the scene of the outbreak, reconnoitre the position and get to work at once. Antonia is recaptured, the Tower of Siloam battered down, killing eighteen of the rebel patriots in its fall, while the Gallilean followers of Jesus are slaughtered in heaps round the altars, their blood mingling with that of the sacrificial animals.

This is, apparently, Dr. Eisler's version of the Slavonic text which deals with the capture of Jerusalem.

In The Manhood of Jesus, readers will have seen the account of this insurrection given in detail, and the statement that it was Judas Iscariot, the advocate of physical force, who was the leader of the insurrection and that Jesus was wholly opposed to it.

It is also to be noted that the historian Josephus, was a Jew of the official class and therefore hostile to Jesus. It seems, then, that however intellectually honest he might be, he would accept only the report of events made by those who were enemies of Jesus, and these men would alter or distort facts according to their prejudices and in order to justify their actions.

Therefore, it is impossible to accept the statement in Dr. Eisler's book that Jesus, "with little difficulty takes possession of the Temple, the adjoining fortress of Antonia and the strong Tower of Siloam." For Jesus, as many of His famous sayings in the Gospels show, was a man of peace and certainly not a militant leader. To take only one instance. He said: "Love your enemies. Bless them that persecute you." "Love your enemies" is not the utterance of a man who is planning an insurrection against a hated conqueror and oppressor.

Thus, writing some time after the Crucifixion, Josephus is likely to have made a mistaken report as regards Jesus through ignorance, while being correct in the main facts of an insurrection.

What is certain is that the idea of Jesus as a militant leader is completely incredible when associated with his lofty character as described in the Gospels. But it may well have been that Judas Iscariot, the "man of war", plotted to use Him as his tool for his own violent purpose, and failed as is related in this present book.

Great claims have been put forward for the historical value of these translated passages from the writings of Josephus. But the account given in The Manhood of Jesus seems to present the only credible explanation of the insurrection, and it is also one that clarifies the mystery of the betrayal of the Master by His disciple.

Numerous other mystifying points are cleared up in this narrative of the Crucifixion. For example, the Gospel tells of what Jesus did in the garden of Gethsemane during the evening of his betrayal. Yet there appears to have been no witness to these events as the disciples slept. But their apparently rather callous sleep is explained by the statement in the present narrative that they had stayed awake for several nights watching for possible assassins of the Master, also it is said that Mark had hidden in the garden, and so he was the witness and later the reporter of what took place. He is described as the youth who (Mark XIV. 51.52) is later said to have been held, after the taking of the Master, by young men "and he left the linen cloth and fled from them naked."

It is stated in the Gospels that when Judas brought with him to the garden of Gethsemane the hirelings of the Pharisees, he kissed Jesus. This fact is difficult to accept if Judas was merely betraying his Master because of a sordid love of money. But it is an entirely credible act according to the motives revealed in the present narrative. For he kisses Jesus because of his jealous love and his certainty that later he is going to make Jesus King of the Jews. It is, indeed, to him his big moment, the peak of his triumph, from which he had so great a fall.

At the last, even when he has decided to commit suicide, the pathetic blindness of his jealous possessive regard for Jesus is illustrated in the words put into his mouth: "I loved the Master and have always loved him more than any of the disciples, more than Peter and John. For these will not give their lives for him, they have fled and will remain in safe hiding. But I shall give my life because for me this world is a desert without Jesus, whom I still love, though he be only Son of Man." Here is a touch of true character. It is the cry of the ignorant, vanity-ridden man who could scarcely have been so base as to betray such a Master only for gain; but was of the stupid and self-centered type common enough in this modern age of would-be dictators.

Amongst other matters the narrative explains the supposedly mistaken prophecy made by Jesus, that He would come again in the lifetime of certain of His disciples. A prophecy that has in fact been misunderstood as have been others of His famous sayings.

E. B. GIBBES.