Chapter 16

At that, she rose, and again affectionately patted the wrinkled hand. Noting that Philip felt somewhat rebuffed, she murmured, as for him alone, ‘Our Master knows everything, Philip. Everything about everything!’

On their way back to the field, where hundreds of people, aware that the meetings were ended, were preparing to return to their homes, Philip was still questioning her, without results, about her origin. Preoccupied with their conversation as they moved through the throng, neither took notice that Peter was immediately behind them. Philip was finishing a remark as they turned to greet him. The Big Fisherman was frowning darkly.

‘Esther speaks Greek!’ explained Philip, in a tone that invited Peter to be pleasantly surprised; but it didn’t have that effect on him. He was annoyed and went to no pains to conceal it.

‘Humph!’ he grunted. ‘Now you should really enjoy yourself, Philip. Our own language is good enough for me!’

There wasn’t much to be said in reply to that. Momentarily stunned by the Big Fisherman’s unexpected rudeness, and looking as if they had been slapped for no reason at all, Philip and Esther, having exchanged a bewildered glance, turned to go.

Peter, angrily gnawing at his underlip, followed them for a little way, saw them separate at Esther’s little tent, and slowly trudged up the hill. At the limestone rock he halted, sat down, ran his fingers through his shaggy hair and cursed himself bitterly.

Early the next morning they broke camp and took to the road, with Peter far in advance of the others. John said to James, ‘D’you suppose someone has hurt his feelings?’ To which his brother replied, ‘More likely he has hurt somebody else.’

‘Let’s catch up with him,’ suggested John, ‘and give him a chance to air his trouble.’

‘You may—if you like,’ said James. He turned about and called to Philip, who was strolling along behind them. ‘Phil—do you want to move on ahead with Johnny and see what ails Peter?’

‘Not me,’ growled Philip. ‘I don’t want to know.’

‘Let him alone,’ advised Andrew. ‘He’ll get over it, whatever it is. If he needed any help, the Master would have joined him.’

Instinctively they turned to face the rear. Far behind them they saw Jesus walking between Esther and old Bartholomew, with young Thaddeus, somewhat in advance of them, pushing a high-wheeled cart containing Esther’s tents and tackle.

‘Where did she dig up those tents?’ inquired Philip.

‘Simon bought them,’ said Andrew, ‘with some of the money old Manasseh paid him for The Rachael. He gave most of it to Hannah.’ It was a long speech for Andrew and they listened attentively. ‘My brother has his odd moments,’ he added, ‘but he is not mean.’

‘Come on, Johnny,’ said Philip impulsively. ‘Let us overtake him.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ said James.

They lengthened their steps and moved forward.

‘They’re good boys,’ said Andrew.

‘Do you know how much he got for The Rachael?’ asked Judas.

‘Yes,’ said Andrew crisply.

They walked along in silence for some time.

‘I suppose old Manasseh got it for a song,’ said Judas.

‘He used to be the cantor at the Synagogue when he was a young man,’ reflected Andrew. ‘Excellent voice, too.’

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