Chapter 5

There had been almost no conversation between them as they trudged along on the well-beaten highway to suburban Bethsaida. The sun was high now—and hot. A few steps in advance of his young companion, the Big Fisherman marched steadily with long strides, moodily preoccupied and quite oblivious of the sandal-patter behind him. These shorter footsteps were erratic, for the camel-boy frequently turned about to survey the huge marble palace of the Tetrarch, sometimes walking backwards for a dozen steps and shading his eyes for better vision.

They were entering the residential district now where well-kept houses sat back from the dusty street, partly hidden by tall acacias, cypress, and olive trees. A corner was turned to the left. At the next corner Simon slowed, encouraging the camel-boy to come abreast of him. Opening a small wicket-gate, he led the way toward a commodious grey-brick cottage. The door yard was shady. A pleasant-faced woman of middle age was raking leaves.

‘What brings you home so early, Simon?’ she inquired, with a side glance at the dishevelled stranger. ‘Anything the matter?’

‘You sit down here on the stoop, son,’ said Simon. ‘I want a word with you, Hannah.’

The Idumean tramp was gratified by this tentative hospitality, and sank down wearily on the step, legs aching from trying to keep up with the long steps of the Galilean giant. The woman had put down the rake and they had entered the house. The skipper would confer with this Hannah, who was probably his mother—though she seemed too young for that—and she would shake her head and say, ‘No—please, Simon; not an Idumean! And he looks so terribly dirty! He’s probably lousy too.’

After what seemed a very long time, they came out on the little porch where Joe sat. It was a relief to see a cordial smile on the woman’s face.

‘My mother-in-law, Hannah, has consented to let you rest here with us for a day or two, seeing how very tired you are,’ said Simon. Turning to Hannah, he added, ‘I may not be home for supper.’

‘Perhaps you should have a bite to eat before you go.’

‘I’m not hungry.’ Without a farewell word Simon walked rapidly to the gate and down the street as if his errand might be of some urgency.

Hannah sat down on the step, a little way apart from her guest, caught up a wisp of greying hair that had fallen over her temple; and, after soberly searching the tired, long-lashed eyes, smiled a little.

‘Your name is Joe,’ she said pleasantly. ‘And you are from away down in Idumea.’

Joe nodded, but offered no further facts about himself.