Chapter 11

By mid-forenoon it had cleared. Patches of blue sky were appearing and the sun was glinting on the puddles in the rose-garden as Jairus sauntered out to the pergola. Perhaps it would dry off sufficiently for the learned men—having fed well—to carry their weighty matters out of the house. That would be a relief. Jairus could see to it that they were comfortably seated—and then drift quietly away. The wise men would not miss him.

Upon examination, the vine-bowered pergola was still a-drip, but giving off a promising steam, and the wicker chairs and divans were drying fast. Jairus was almost cheerful when Rabbi Ben-Sholem appeared, punching holes in the wet gravel with his cane. The Rabbi, habitually sedate, was almost animated.

‘This promises to be an interesting day, my son,’ he said, in a tone that hinted at a treat in store.

‘That’s good,’ rejoined Jairus, without enthusiasm. ‘I have been hoping that the gardens and the pergola would be dry enough for your people to hold their meeting, this afternoon, out-of-doors.’

‘Well, as for that, this will not be a festive occasion,’ declared Ben-Sholem soberly. ‘It is not a garden party. What we have to do today can better be done indoors!’

‘Oh? So serious as that?’

‘Yes. The Carpenter is to be here!’

Jairus, who had been shaking a dripping vine, straightened—and brightened a little.

‘Indeed!’ he said. ‘That’s interesting!’

‘Yes. A couple of our young students for the priesthood hunted the fellow down yesterday, and—’

‘Hunted him down, eh?’ There was a trace of asperity in Jairus’ tone. ‘That must have called for much shrewdness, seeing that the Carpenter has been openly speaking to great throngs. Had he hidden himself somewhere?’

‘No, he was not in hiding,’ replied the old man frostily. ‘He was shamelessly eating his supper in the home of Simon the son of Jonas.’

Jairus grinned and the Rabbi scowled at his amusement.

‘You don’t mean to say, sir, that he was visiting the Big Fisherman! I thought this Carpenter was some sort of a religious teacher. Apparently he isn’t very particular about the company he keeps. The Big Fisherman hasn’t any more religion than our dog!’