Chapter 24

Ephraim, the good-natured farrier and general blacksmith of Nazareth, lounged at full-length on his tool-scarred work-bench and waited for a cessation of the pelting summer shower that was detaining him long past supper-time.

Since early morning he had been toiling on a broken ploughshare, hoping to complete his task by the end of the day, but the sudden storm had darkened the shop, already at dusk, and he had given it up—complacently, however, for the gardens needed the rain more than Hoseph needed his plough. Wearied by the day’s work and drowsy in the darkness—for he had banked his forge-fire in preparation for leaving—Ephraim stretched out comfortably and fell asleep so soundly that he was quite unaware of the opening and closing of the double doors facing the street.

A brightening glow from the suddenly revived fire on the forge attracted his attention, though he did not stir. In his dream he saw a well-favoured youth tugging at the bellows-rope with what seemed an experienced hand. Every fresh blast from the old leather bellows quickened the fire. It was possible to see more clearly now. The tall white horse—a superb animal—was attempting to take a drink from the grimy water-tub beside the anvil, just as any other horse would have done, and his young master was forbidding him to do it, just as any other man would have done; but Ephraim knew it was only a dream because neither the horse nor the man was wet.

With his curiosity considerably stirred, Ephraim turned on his side, elevated his head into the crook of his arm, and had a better view of his remarkable visitors. The handsome youth was gorgeously clad in white, with a broad fillet of gleaming gold circling his head, and the horse’s trappings were heavily ornamented with silver.

‘How does it happen, young master,’ Ephraim heard himself inquiring, ‘that your clothing and your horse’s coat are dry, after coming through that rain-storm?’

‘We came another way,’ replied the youth casually, still pumping the bellows.

‘But you’re cold,’ remarked Ephraim, ‘or you wouldn’t be firing the forge.’

‘That’s for light,’ said the youth, raking the coals toward the centre.

‘A young fellow as queer as you are,’ chuckled Ephraim, ‘should be able to see in the dark.’

‘Perhaps I can—but you can’t.’ The strange visitor let go of the bellows-rope now and approached the work-bench. ‘I wanted you to see me plainly enough to remember what I came to say. I have an important message for you, Ephraim. You are expected in Jerusalem on the Day of Pentecost.’

Ephraim heard himself laughing softly in his sleep. What a dream this had turned out to be!

‘What’s the idea of my going to Pentecost?’ he inquired. ‘I don’t need a camel. I can’t even afford a good donkey.’

At this juncture the young messenger seriously proceeded to explain. A large number of the friends and followers of Jesus were being called together in Jerusalem on the morning of the Day of Pentecost. The meeting would convene in the Coppersmiths’ Guildhall, in the middle of the forenoon.