The Ironsmith (32 page)

“This is what you seek,” he said. His voice was level, as if he had just made the last decision of his life. “Take it. It is all I have, and these men are poor. Take it. It holds silver. Take the donkey as well, and be satisfied.”

“How do I know that is all you have?”

Noah was framing an answer when one of the other riders urged his horse forward a few steps, put a hand on his companion's arm, and whispered something to him. There was a brief conversation, and then the horseman turned his attention back to Noah.

“My friend says that you are known to him. He says that you once saved his life. He says that we should let you and the prophet go in peace.”

All the while the second man smiled at Noah with obvious pleasure, apparently expecting to be recognized.

It was a moment before he was.

“Samson?” Noah experienced an instant of disappointment. “Then I gather you did not go on to Ptolemais.”

“No.” Samson shook his head, still smiling broadly. “I bought food and rested. Then I bought a sword. Then I stole a horse.”

“And became a brigand?”

“Yes.”

“I am sorry to hear it.”

Samson's friend seemed to take offense at this.

“There is nothing wrong with being a brigand.”

 

26

Samson and his companions, as it developed, had not eaten since the morning before. They returned Noah's pouch to him with just enough formality to indicate that he and his friends were no longer considered as among those upon whom it was permissible to prey, but at the same time they regarded with covetous eyes the food sacks and wineskins which burdened the donkey. They would not steal, and they were too proud to beg, but an invitation to share, it was implied, would not be declined.

The donkey was quickly unloaded.

Then Noah remembered Deborah and, reproaching himself, called out to her. Instantly he saw her face appear above the boulder behind which she had been hiding, and he gestured to her to come down.

They met halfway up the trail and embraced.

“We are safe then?” she asked as they walked down together. “They are not brigands?”

“We are perfectly safe, but yes, they are brigands. One of them, however, is a friend of mine.”

“You have friends who are brigands?”

“He wasn't a brigand when I knew him before.”

By the time they returned, most of the wine had been drunk and everyone was on convivial terms. There was much laughter, and Joshua was attempting to explain to Samson about God's kingdom and how its imminent arrival should make him reconsider his choice of career. Samson listened politely but did not seem convinced.

The brigand leader, holding the last wineskin by its neck, stood up to greet the new arrival.

“Aha! I knew you were holding something back.”

He slapped his thigh and laughed. He was a good fellow and meant no harm. He invited Noah to share the wine.

“This is my betrothed, Deborah. We are on our way to Nazareth to be married.”

“Then we should drink to your happiness.”

On the pretext of seeing to the donkey, Deborah left them. The two men sat down in a patch of shade reluctantly provided by an acacia tree. When the wineskin was offered to him, Noah observed that the brigand leader's hands were narrow, with long, slender fingers.

There were at least two hours wanting until noon, but somehow it did not seem wise, under the circumstances, to decline any friendly gestures.

“Peace be with you.” Noah took a long swallow.

“Peace be with you,” the brigand answered. “My name is Lemuel, by the way.”

They sat together in silence for a time, passing the wineskin back and forth.

“That friend of yours, is he a preacher?”

“Yes. He was a follower of the Baptist. He is my cousin.”

“You should tell your cousin to curb his tongue.”

His voice betrayed no hostility. He was merely offering useful advice.

“I have told him that many times. He does not listen.”

“Well, it brought him within a heartbeat of being killed today. Does the man have no fear?”

“It would seem not. He believes he lives under God's protection.”

“God's what?” This struck Lemuel as funny, and he laughed again. “God protected David, and maybe a prophet or two, but He does not care about ordinary men like you and me and your cousin—what was his name again?”

“Joshua.”

“Joshua? I think I have heard of him.” He took back the wineskin and seemed about to drink, but then apparently lost interest. “Well, maybe God does protect him, if he's lived this long. Yes, maybe He does.”

Then he remembered the wine, took a swallow, and handed the skin back to Noah.

“She's a pretty woman, your Deborah. You are fortunate.”

“I know I am.”

“I was married once.”

Lemuel sighed and shook his head. It was obvious that he wanted to talk.

“What happened?”

With his long hand, the brigand made a surprisingly graceful gesture, suggestive of the perversity of fortune.

“I was a weaver,” he said. “I owned my own loom. Then I fell into debt to the wool merchants—I had no choice. I bought the wool from them and sold the finished cloth to them, and the prices were not in my favor. Then one day a man came and said that the loom and the house we lived in belonged to him now. We went to stay with my wife's family, but my wife caught a fever and died. She did not struggle against it and died quickly. I think she wished to die. Then I was by myself.”

“And you became a brigand?”

“Yes. It came down to a choice among being a thief or a beggar or starving to death. I wanted to live, and a man must have a little pride. I don't rob the villagers, so they will hide me when the soldiers come looking. Only the rich think ill of a robber, and they are the worst robbers of all. To the poor I am a champion because I oppress those who oppress them.”

“You almost oppressed me today.”

“Anyone can make a mistake.”

*   *   *

Lemuel and his companions had decided that the pickings were too thin in Galilee and so were on their way to Judea. Thus, because the southern road was on their way, they volunteered to accompany the little group to within sight of Sepphoris—any closer would run the risk of encountering the Tetrarch's soldiers—and for this they agreed to accept fifteen silver pieces, which was close to the amount in Noah's purse. Thus was their honor as brigands satisfied.

They all parted as friends, about an hour and a half's walk from Nazareth.

The encounter left Joshua exuberant and, as it was obvious he had exhausted the subject with his disciples, for the first time in the journey he sought out Noah.

“I was never afraid,” he said, his voice confidentially low as he threw an arm across Noah's shoulders. “I felt as if God had me cradled in His hand.”

“When were you ever afraid? You weren't even afraid when we were seven and you jumped from the top of the vine terrace, but you broke your arm anyway.”

Joshua threw back his head and laughed.

“You are an inconvenient friend for a prophet. You have a perfect memory of every time I have made a fool of myself.”

“
Are
you a prophet then?”

“If I am not, then I am mad, for God speaks to me. I hear His voice in my heart. Do you think I am mad, Noah?”

It was not a jest but a real question, and Noah weighed his answer accordingly.

“No,” he said at last. “I do not think you are mad.”

“But you are not prepared to repent and join me in awaiting the Kingdom.”

Then it was Noah's turn to laugh, and it was not a pleasant sound.

“Do you imagine, Cousin, that you have a monopoly on repentance?” He turned and looked up into Joshua's face. “Anyone who tries to live under God's law tastes repentance every day of his life. Since I was received as a man in the prayer house, I am not conscious of having broken any of the commandments, but I know that God requires more. I am honest in my dealings and I give to the poor, but I have been guilty of a thousand compromises with life, so that sometimes I wonder if it is even possible in this world to be a good man.”

“In
this
world, probably not.” Joshua smiled, as if he had just guessed the answer to a riddle. “And why is it you only call me ‘cousin' when you are annoyed with me?”

Noah could laugh again, and this time with pleasure, for thus easily was the estrangement between them bridged. They could talk again with the effortless understanding of old friends.

One time Noah looked over his shoulder at Deborah, who was leading the donkey, wondering if she felt neglected, but she merely smiled at him, as if guessing his question, and shook her head. The renewed intimacy between the two men seemed to please her.

“I suspect it is a great folly for me to return to Nazareth,” Joshua announced suddenly, for they had been speaking of other matters. “Father and I will only quarrel.”

“Try to avoid it. The excitement will only wear him out.”

“It will be almost impossible to avoid.”

“Nevertheless, try.” Noah made a gesture with his right hand, as if to silence objections. “I know that it will not be easy, but try not to be provoked by anything he says. He does not understand the turn your life has taken, and he will never be made to understand, so let it pass.”

“Why is it so difficult for him to see?
You
see, don't you?”

“I suppose, in some sense. Yet this path you follow can only lead you away from what most of us call happiness. What did the Baptist's father think, I wonder.”

“I never heard him mention his family.” Joshua shook his head. “Until this moment, it never occurred to me to think he might have one.”

“Yet he must have. Perhaps in some village his parents grieve and wonder why their son chose to live, and to die, as he did.”

“Except that perhaps he did not choose, but was chosen.”

“Perhaps. But that is not a possibility that would occur to your father.”

“That is the truth.”

By then they were within a few minutes' walk of the village, along a road dividing fields whose owners they could have named. The familiar world of their childhood was closing in around them.

Joshua picked up a small stone and threw it, just as Noah had seen him do hundreds of times before. When they were boys, it might have been a gesture of pure exuberance. Now it suggested that his thoughts were not pleasing to him.

“What plagues me, more than anything else,” he said, his eyes still following the trajectory of the stone, “what I cannot bring myself to be reconciled to, is that the truth of my message is as transparent as water. I am like one who points his finger and says ‘Look! The enemy comes,' and anyone who troubles to turn his head can see the dust raised by the approach of a hostile army. And I know that my father will not think to turn his head, and only because I am his son.”

*   *   *

As they walked through the outskirts of the village, people looked up from their daily occupations, and a few smiled and waved their hands in friendly recognition. Most ignored them. Noah and Joshua they of course knew, but the others were strangers and thus objects of suspicion.

The first member of the family to see them was Noah's grandfather, who was sitting on a stool beside the door of his house. His face, only the instant before vacant of expression, registered first surprise and then pleasure. He stood up and embraced them, first Noah and then Joshua, and then his attention fell on the only woman with them.

“Is this then she?” he asked, his smile almost flirtatious. He took her hands in his. “Are you Deborah?”

Deborah was so overcome with embarrassed pleasure that she could only nod.

“I think you will make Noah very happy.”

“She has done that already, Grandfather,” Noah said, at which they could all laugh, as much in relief as anything else.

Suddenly the old man frowned. He glanced at Noah, as if in reproach.

“Your sister should be here.”

“Why isn't she?” Noah felt a sudden surge of anxiety. “I told her to stay with you.”

Grandfather smiled, as if at a story he had heard many times before.

“She doesn't go near your house,” he said. “She stays with a friend in the next street. I think she doesn't want her cloth merchant to forget her.”

“Yes, of course,” Noah answered, feeling a trifle foolish. After all, the danger was past, wasn't it? “She will be with Abigail. I shall have to get a message to her.”

“I'll go.” It was Judah who spoke. He pushed himself forward. “I'll be happy to. Just give me directions.”

At first, Noah's only reaction was astonishment, and then he remembered himself.

“It will add another two hours to your journey,” he said. “I could not ask it.…”

“Two hours is nothing. I have been so long in the country, it will be good once more to have cobblestones beneath my feet. Simply tell me where she lives.”

It was obvious he meant to do it, so Noah told him where to find the house.

“Do you know Sepphoris at all?”

“No.”

“It is not so vast a place. There are a number of streets that branch just to the left of the eastern gate. Follow the Street of the Carpenters south until you see a house with a green door. It will be on your right and, believe me, there is only one. My sister's name is Sarah. Tell her I hope to see her in the morning.”

There was an awkward moment as Judah departed. He turned and suddenly found himself facing Joshua, and for an instant he seemed ashamed. But Joshua merely smiled.

“Go,” he said. “It is a good thing that you do.”

When Judah was gone, Joshua put his hand on Noah's shoulder and bent his head, as if to whisper a confidence.