Chapter 15

Peter knew nothing about the abdication of the old Rabbi and his departure to avenge himself, nor would he have worried very much had he known, for Jesus’ position was secure. He could take care of himself in any emergency.

Late that afternoon the small group of close friends waited in Andrew’s cottage for Peter to return and report. Arriving at length, full of excitement over the day’s events, the Big Fisherman flung himself into a chair, scrubbed a perspiring brow with the back of his hand, and declared, ‘You know I didn’t want him to come back to Capernaum; but he knew what he was doing. Never again will I question his wisdom—about anything! Jesus knows best!’

‘High time you found that out!’ remarked his brother. ‘Now tell us exactly what happened. There are many stories afloat.’

Peter began at the beginning. They would remember, he said, that Jesus had beckoned him to follow as Jairus and the butler led the way through the crowd. Three tall racing camels, in the care of their drivers, waited on a side-street.

‘You mean to say you rode a camel?’ exclaimed Johnny.

‘Yes,’ nodded Peter, ‘but I shouldn’t want to do it again.’

‘And the Master!’ wondered Philip, ‘he rode a camel? How did he get along?’

‘Very well, I think,’ grinned Peter. ‘I was too busy with my own excursion to notice. It was a rough voyage—but we got there…At the house we heard the clamour of lamentations. A score of professional mourners, who had been hanging about for hours waiting to be hired, were huddled on the verandah, with their black hoods over their faces, howling like dogs. Jesus was vexed by the noise and commanded them to cease and begone.’

‘That’s one advantage the poor have over the rich,’ put in James. ‘When there’s death in the house, you aren’t bothered with hired mourners.’

‘We went at once to the bed-chamber where the little girl lay,’ continued Peter. ‘Jesus led the way, with Jairus and his wife Adiel closely following. They asked me to come too. The Master sat down on the edge of the bed and gazed fixedly at the child for a long time. Her face had the whiteness of death. After a while, the Master said softly, as if not to awaken her, “She is sleeping.”‘

‘You mean—she wasn’t dead?’ exclaimed Thaddeus.

‘That’s in doubt,’ said Peter. ‘They all thought she was. She certainly seemed to be dead. He said she was asleep.’

‘Perhaps he meant the sleep of death,’ observed old Bartholomew.