Chapter 18

‘I suppose that’s the reason we have perch for breakfast,’ laughed Hannah.

‘It’s a good enough reason,’ said Andrew. ‘There isn’t a better fisherman on the lake than my brother.’

No one seemed inclined to add anything to that. The men rose, pulled on their caps and heavy jackets, and proceeded to Capernaum. The carpenter’s shop was well filled when they arrived, everyone in unusually high spirits over the signs of returning spring. The Master had finished the table he had been making as a gift for Lydia, the widow of Ebenezer, in appreciation of the tools he had borrowed. It was evident that he had planned no further work. Perhaps he would tell them now when and where they would go.

Peter ventured to bring up the subject.

‘I suppose we will be leaving presently, Master,’ he said, ‘now that fair weather is in sight.’

‘Yes,’ replied Jesus, ‘we will start on the first day of the week, and attend the Passover in Jerusalem.’

There was a heavy silence, and for a long moment all breathing was suspended.

‘No, Master, no!’ entreated Peter. ‘Anywhere but Jerusalem! You have dangerous enemies there. This must not be!’

Jesus gazed steadily and sternly into the Big Fisherman’s eyes.

‘I must ask you to stand aside, Simon,’ he said firmly. ‘Your counsel is not that of a faithful and courageous friend. I am going to Jerusalem—on business for my Father!’

One by one the dazed Galileans—all but the Big Fisherman, who sat stunned and disheartened with his shaggy head in his hands—slipped quietly out of the room and reassembled at the front gate.

Andrew broke the silence.

‘Well—he apparently means it. There’s no use trying to dissuade him. He is going to Jerusalem.’

Old Bartholomew cleared his throat and murmured huskily, ‘We too will go—and die with him.’

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