Chapter 24

‘Well, sire, to begin with: do you remember the well-favoured youth who assisted us that night when we took the body of Jesus down from the cross? And how he helped us at the tomb? And we couldn’t understand his behaviour at all—the way he held the Master’s body caressingly, as one might carry a sleeping child, with a tender smile; and showing no grief, no grief at all!’

The Prince nodded his full remembrance, and Hassan went on:

‘The handsome youth was garbed in a working-man’s clothing; but after his exertions and while we rested at the tomb, he slipped off his brown jacket and revealed a white silk tunic of exquisite texture—’

‘That sounds like a dream, too, Hassan,’ interposed Tamar.

‘What Hassan says is true, my sister. I was about to pay the handsome youth for his service to us; but when I saw that tunic it seemed inappropriate to offer him anything…Continue, Hassan.’

‘This strange young man has been much in my thoughts, sire. There was one story, you will remember, about the women seeing an angel, clad in white, when they went to the tomb that Sunday morning.’

‘Perhaps you have thought about it so much that it has gone to your head, Hassan,’ put in Tamar.

‘No, no, sister!’ cautioned the Prince. ‘Hassan is not crazy! Let him tell his story.’

‘He came to my bedside last night, sire, saying that we were wanted in Jerusalem, mid-morning of the Day of Pentecost, at the Coppersmiths’ Guildhall; an important meeting, to which your grace and his humble servant Hassan were both invited…He said you had been notified, sire. It was all so real that I believed it, and prepared for the journey. I see that I was mistaken—and I crave your grace’s pardon!’

There was a lengthy silence before the Prince spoke. In an unsteady voice, he said, ‘Hassan, you were not mistaken. I was notified. He came to me. I dismissed it as a dream. We will go to Jerusalem, as he commanded.’

Hassan’s gloomy face instantly cleared. He drew himself up to his full height, saluted, and withdrew. Tamar broke the silence.

‘Joe, dear,’ she said solicitously, ‘you know you don’t believe in such things!…They just don’t happen!’

‘I wish you could have seen him, Tamar! Wherever he came from, they practise no economy. You never saw such clothing! White silk; satin, maybe, with a luminous sheen! On the breast of his tunic was some sort of insignia done in gold. I didn’t recognize it.’ He beckoned to the maid. ‘Bring me a slate and a stylus…See, Tamar—it looked like this! What is it?’

She rose, came round to his side of the table, studied the drawing, and shook her head.

‘Have you any idea what it means?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Joseph. ‘It is the cross on which they crucified the Master!…Tamar—that was a greater event than we knew!’

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