Chapter 13

Having been house-bound for several days by the rains, David had decided to stretch his legs. It was still wet underfoot and dark overhead; not a pleasant day for a walk, but he couldn’t stay cooped up any longer.

Slogging along through the mud he wondered why, when he didn’t really have to, he remained in Galilee through the tedious and depressing weeks of the winter season. Of course there was his sister to consider. Deborah couldn’t be budged from home and David disliked the thought of leaving her alone with the servants.

Approaching the corner where Hannah lived, he was surprised to see the number of people who had gathered about the house. It was apparent from their attitude that something serious had happened. He paused and was about to beckon to one of the solemn-faced men when he saw the Big Fisherman toiling wearily up from the highway.

Sighting his eminent neighbour, Simon moved toward him and explained what the trouble was. Hannah was grievously ill; beyond recovery, maybe. David shook his head and murmured his sympathy.

‘She may have taken a turn for the worse,’ added Simon, anxiously surveying the silent assembly of neighbours. ‘I have been gone for an hour. I went to summon Jesus.’

‘Ah? The Carpenter?’ David was astonished. ‘I am surprised that you have any faith in the fellow.’ And when Simon made no reply, he went on dryly, ‘And perhaps you haven’t…Any port in a storm; eh?’

Simon gnawed at his underlip, as if contemplating a response, but remained silent. It was evident that the cynical old Sadducee had not heard of his public association with Jesus. David had no reason to think that the Big Fisherman would take the slightest interest in this wandering preacher.

‘Is the Carpenter in there now?’ asked the lawyer.

‘I suppose so,’ said Simon almost indifferently. ‘If you will excuse me, sir’—turning away—’I will go in—and see how she is.’ He walked rapidly round the corner and was unlatching the gate when the crowd on the stoop was ploughed apart by old Gershon, who, noisy with indignation, tottered down the path. Simon stood in his way.

‘What is it, Gershon?’ he demanded.

‘Fools!’ shrilled the old man.

‘How is Hannah?’ Simon clutched at Gershon’s sleeve.

‘Dying! Let go of me! You are all fools!’ Gershon nearly upset himself by his angry tug to be free. At the gate he came face to face with David, who had rounded the corner and stood waiting. Instantly the old physician’s manner changed. Bowing deeply, he rubbed a shaky hand across his forehead and tried to steady his voice as he explained his rage.