Chapter 16

The news that Jesus was coming to Jericho had raced on ahead of him and a great audience was awaiting his arrival. It was the largest assembly he had encountered. Within a fortnight more than fifteen thousand people—from all over Samaria and Judaea and the contingent following from Galilee—had converted the open country north of ancient Jericho into a city. Those were memorable days for the Master’s companions. Sometimes, when the day’s trying work was done, Peter had sought Esther for comfort and companionship. They had become very close friends. One evening he had asked her, as they sat side by side on the grass at her tent-door, whether Greek was a difficult language to learn.

‘You shouldn’t find it hard,’ she had replied. ‘Want me to teach you a few words, Petros?’

He had smiled and nodded.

She patted the ground with the palm of her slim hand.

‘Ge,’ she said. ‘The earth…Say it, Peter. Ge.’

He repeated the word after her.

She patted her head. ‘Kephale…’ She laid her hand upon her heart. ‘Kardia.’ She touched her girdle. ‘Zone.’ She pointed aloft at a brilliant star. ‘Astron…Now what is the word for head?’ she asked, after the manner of a pedagogue. Peter couldn’t remember—but he did recall the Greek word for heart, and seemed happy over his progress. He was learning Greek—and fast…An inquisitive little lizard scampered across his worn sandal. He pointed to it.

‘Sauros,’ said Esther.

‘What is the word for God?’ he asked.

‘Which one?’ inquired Esther innocently.

‘The only one,’ he said severely.

‘Theos,’ she replied, after a little pause.

And that was the way they had spent most of their evenings during the strenuous weeks in the region round about Jericho. Peter, who had never known a word of any language save his own—and was far from being a master of that one—was infatuated with new interest and proud of his progress. Esther gave him every encouragement. It was not long before the Big Fisherman was piecing his Greek words into sentences. He had been jealous of Philip. Now he was cultivating the Macedonian and vaingloriously talking to him in his own language; though sometimes Philip laughed a little and offered an amendment.

The summer was advancing. There was an occasional whiff of autumn in the early morning breeze. Then came the day of Jesus’ triumphal entry into the city of Jericho, the welcoming crowds that lined the streets, the memorable luncheon at the mansion where Zacchaeus lived in lonely splendour, despised and feared by his fellow-townsmen. And, as an outcome of that interview, the rascally Zacchaeus had publicly announced his intention of restoring, four-fold, the unjust taxes he had filched from the people.

That night, at their encampment in the hills, Jesus told them the summer’s work was ended. Tomorrow, he said, they would start back to Capernaum. The twelve were glad, but somewhat surprised; for it might be a whole month before the rains came on. The Master seemed suddenly anxious to return to Capernaum. They did not ask him why: they knew better than to question him any more.