Chapter 5

‘I always say,’ he shrilled, ‘it’s cheaper to feed an Idumean and let him go on his way. Then—maybe—he won’t steal from you.’ The old man grimaced for his immediate neighbours, feeling that he had scored a point.

‘I never stole anything in my life,’ retorted the stranger, without turning to see where the insult had originated.

‘I believe you, Joe!’ declared John.

‘Yaa!’ railed his father, ‘you’d believe anything, anybody! That’s your trouble. You’re too easily taken in.’

‘I believe you too, my boy,’ said Simon, so pointedly that old Zebedee suddenly busied himself with his awl. Then, turning to John, the Big Fisherman inquired in a low tone. ‘Many people out there? Where was it?’

‘Up on the hill—on the road to Cana.’ John’s voice was guarded. It was apparent that he had no intention of explaining to the whole company if he could avoid it. ‘There were about a hundred people; perhaps more.’ It had grown very quiet. All work had stopped. Everyone was candidly eavesdropping. Simon observed it—and grinned.

‘May as well speak out, Johnny. They’re all interested…We’re talking about the Carpenter, boys. Johnny went out to see him, yesterday…Go ahead, Johnny. Tell us all about it.’

The men were pleased to be included in the conversation. They pocketed their awls. Some rested their elbows on their knees and cupped their chins in their hands. Even the weary young tramp showed a sudden interest at the mention of a carpenter whose doings had excited public curiosity. John was hesitant to begin; studied his slim, brown fingers as if he had never seen them before, and moistened his dry lips.

To fill in this awkward pause, Simon announced, ‘I gave John leave yesterday to go out into the country and see what this hullabaloo amounted to. There have been all manner of wild tales, and it’s high time somebody came forward with the truth.’

‘Yaa!’ yelled Zebedee. ‘That yarn about his turning water into wine, over at Cana! You can’t find anybody who will stand up and say he saw it himself. It’s always the cousin of a brother-in-law who saw it—and he lives over in Samaria somewhere.’

Simon turned about and faced the old man with a scowl.

‘If that is all you have to say for the present, Zebedee, we will give your son a chance to talk.’

There was now no way out for John, except to tell the story. He lifted his head and began his strange narrative.