Chapter 10

But what would Fara be likely to do now that her mission had failed of accomplishment? Assuming that she had arrived in the vicinity of Tiberias to await an opportunity for settling with her rascally father, would she await his return from Rome?

Here came a lone traveller, ambling along on an infirm, sore-eyed camel, followed—at a hundred yards—by a hump-backed old man with a scowl on his wrinkled face and an axe on his bony shoulder.

Voldi greeted each of them in turn with a cheery good morning. Neither replied. Was that because he was riding a good horse and they were envious? Or was it because he was an Arabian? Or because he was a stranger—any stranger? Or because they were by nature impolite? He had to admit, though, as he rode on, that the Arabians would have shown no more courtesy to a travelling Jew.

Perhaps Fara would decide to return to Arabia, now that she had failed. But, having risked so much—to come so far—would she not persevere and wait for the Tetrarch’s return? There really wasn’t much in Arabia for her to go back to since her mother was gone. Himself, of course, but she may have put him out of her mind. Having left him without a word of farewell, she might assume that he would have given her up—and turned his attention elsewhere.

Now a family on foot, single-file, was overtaken. Reluctantly they sidled off the road and stood stolidly in the dusty weeds waiting for the rider to pass. Father, leading the procession, wore an impressive black beard and a ragged black robe, but bore no burden. Mother had a sleepy baby in the crook of one arm and a big basket of wheat in the other. The boy towed a white milch-goat. The half-grown girl carried a bulging bag of apples on her back. Voldi rode by slowly, yielding room. He nodded amiably. Father and the goat raised their chins and sneered with expressions so similar that Voldi grinned. Mother, imitating her lord, made an ugly face. The boy stared, without malice. The girl lifted pretty eyes and smiled shyly.

It was the older people’s fault, thought Voldi, that the different races despised one another. He wondered whether the world might be more harmonious if all the old people were abolished: say, everyone over twenty. Luckily for himself, such a commendable decree would leave him to help establish the new order in which strangers meeting on the road would be more ready to smile than spit. But—they would all have to remain at twenty—and never grow old. Perhaps the project was impracticable.

Well, it wouldn’t be long now before he might know something more about Fara. An Arabian boy in his teens would be noticed in a small fishing village, where everybody knew everybody else. Someone would remember having seen this young Arab. Voldi wondered what success Fara might have had—posing as a boy. Risky business that was!