Chapter 5

‘Learning that he had left Cana and was headed in this direction, I went out, hoping to meet him. On the hill I came upon quite a multitude of people gathered about him. Many of them had followed him from Cana, and apparently the others had joined the crowd along the way.’

‘What did he look like?’ broke in James.

‘It was late afternoon when I arrived,’ continued John, with a brief little gesture that postponed a reply to his brother’s query. ‘I tried to question a few on the edge of the crowd, but they gave no heed. They were all closely packed together, pushing in on him until he had hardly room to stand. I thought it was quite rude of them, though I soon found myself wanting to do the same thing.’ He paused reminiscently, shook his head, and muttered, ‘It was all very strange.’

Simon hitched about impatiently.

‘Get on with it, Johnny! What was the fellow saying?’

‘He wasn’t what you’d call a big man,’ continued John, with a glance toward his brother. ‘Simon would overtop him by a good six inches.’

The Big Fisherman squared his shoulders and listened more complacently.

‘But not meaning that he was frail,’ amended John. ‘His skin was much whiter than ours, though he wore nothing on his head and the sun was hot enough to burn him. He seemed very warm—and tired. His brown hair was curly and the sweat had coiled some tight little rings of it on his forehead, softening his face until it might have looked boyish if it hadn’t been for his short beard. Even with the beard he looked much younger than he talked. His eyes…’

John broke off here and fumbled with the old net while his audience waited in silence. Presently he gave a deep sigh, shook his head—and went on, in a monotone of reminiscence.

‘He didn’t talk in a loud voice; not like a teacher or a preacher. You know what I mean: the way the scribes talk to people—as if they were reciting something to the woods or the moon; but not to anybody in particular. The Carpenter didn’t seem to be speaking to the crowd as a crowd, but to each person, as if they were alone together, apart…That was the first thing I noticed about his talk. I couldn’t help feeling that he had singled me out and was speaking directly to me. Maybe that was why I wanted to get closer. I suppose that was why everyone crowded in, wanting to get closer.’

‘Very well! Very well!’ prodded Simon. ‘You wanted to get closer. Now—what did he say?’

‘That’s what we’re all waiting for, John,’ shouted old Zebedee.

‘He was talking about freedom—and happiness. Our country was never going to be free, he said. We should make up our minds to that. He said that if we were ever to have any happiness at all we must accept this bondage as something we couldn’t alter, and plan to find our happiness within ourselves—seeing that our land would be subjugated, as long as we lived—and longer.’