Chapter 10

‘What kind of stories?’ wondered Voldi.

‘I never heard any of them myself. He seemed shy of grown-up people and didn’t talk much when they were around. But my eldest brother Laban’s boy, Ephraim—my namesake—said the stories were mostly about some far-away country where there was no winter and no darkness—and the rivers never dried or overflowed—and nobody was ever sick—and nobody died—and nobody wept. And everyone loved the King.’

Voldi waited in silence for the farrier to continue.

‘It seemed strange for a small boy to have such fancies,’ soliloquized Ephraim. ‘According to my nephew, Jesus always talked about this distant land as if it was real; almost as if he had been there. The country was at peace. There were no soldiers, no forts, no prisons, no alms-houses. Everyone had some work to do, but not for money. There wasn’t any money. No one was rich; no one was poor. And flowers grew everywhere and always—but nobody gathered them…The child made much over flowers. From the time he was able to toddle, the little chap would carry water from the village well to his garden. We all thought he wouldn’t amount to much, being so interested in flowers. But—as he grew up he turned out to be a skilful carpenter; better than Joseph, his father.’

‘But he never gathered up a crowd—and talked?’ asked Voldi.

‘No. As I say, he was not a one to talk much, except to the smaller children; and, after he came into his teens, he was very quiet and walked alone most of the time. I think that was because—as he grew up—the older children laughed among themselves at the stories he had told. Once it was spread about that a half-grown boy, tormenting him about this faraway land, rudely accused him of being a liar, and Jesus replied that he had told them the truth; that there was such a country; that he knew more things about it than he had told them.’

‘And then the people thought he was crazy, I suppose,’ remarked Voldi.

‘Well, we couldn’t help feeling that he was different, and perhaps he guessed how we felt about him—for he spent most of his time alone, except when he was working in the shop.’

‘What did his family think about him?’

‘They didn’t know quite what to make of him. He used to go for long walks by himself, in the hills. His mother worried about him. Shortly before he left Nazareth, he was gone for a couple of months, and when he came back you would have thought he was walking in his sleep. He had something on his mind—and it weighted him. Nobody seemed to know where he had been. Maybe his folks did. But it was plain that he was much stirred up—inside…On the morning of the day he left Nazareth—for good, I fear—he attended the service in the Synagogue, for it was the Sabbath Day. He sat with the family, as usual. Sometimes our good old Rabbi Ben-Naboth would ask some man in the congregation to read the Scripture Lesson; some one of the old men who were known for their piety. On this day the Rabbi called for Jesus to come forward. It was unusual to invite one so young. The place grew very quiet.’