Joel: A Boy of Galilee Page 4

  CHAPTER I.

  IT was market day in Capernaum. Country people were coming in from thelittle villages among the hills of Galilee, with fresh butter and eggs.Fishermen held out great strings of shining perch and carp, just dippedup from the lake beside the town. Vine-dressers piled their baskets withtempting grapes, and boys lazily brushed the flies from the dishes ofwild honey, that they had gone into the country before day-break tofind.

  A ten-year-old girl pushed her way through the crowded market-place,carrying her baby brother in her arms, and scolding another child, whoclung to her skirts.

  "Hurry, you little snail!" she said to him. "There's a camel caravanjust stopped by the custom-house. Make haste, if you want to see it!"

  Their bare feet picked their way quickly over the stones, down to thehot sand of the lake shore. The children crept close to the shaggycamels, curious to see what they carried in their huge packs. But beforethey were made to kneel, so that the custom-house officials couldexamine the loads, the boy gave an exclamation of surprise.

  "Look, Jerusha! Look!" he cried, tugging at her skirts. "What's that?"

  Farther down the line, came several men carrying litters. On each onewas a man badly wounded, judging by the many bandages that wrapped him.

  Jerusha pushed ahead to hear what had happened. One of the drivers wastelling a tax-gatherer.

  "In that last rocky gorge after leaving Samaria," said the man, "we wereset upon by robbers. They swarmed down the cliffs, and fought asfiercely as eagles. These men, who were going on ahead, had much goldwith them. They lost it all, and might have been killed, if we had notcome up behind in such numbers. That poor fellow there can hardly live,I think, he was beaten so badly."

  The children edged up closer to the motionless form on the litter. Itwas badly bruised and blood-stained, and looked already lifeless.

  "Let's go, Jerusha," whispered the boy, whimpering and pulling at herhand. "I don't like to look at him."

  With the heavy baby still in her arms, and the other child taggingafter, she started slowly back towards the market-place.

  "I'll tell you what we'll do," she exclaimed. "Let's go up and get theother children, and play robbers. We never did do that before. It willbe lots of fun."

  There was a cry of welcome as Jerusha appeared again in themarket-place, where a crowd of children were playing tag, regardless ofthe men and beasts they bumped against. They were all younger thanherself, and did not resent her important air when she called, "Comehere! I know a better game than that!"

  She told them what she had just seen and heard down at the beach, anddrew such a vivid picture of the attack, that the children were readyfor anything she might propose.

  "Now we'll choose sides," she said. "I'll be a rich merchant coming upfrom Jerusalem with my family and servants, and the rest of you can berobbers. We'll go along with our goods, and you pounce out on us as wego by. You may take the baby as a prisoner if you like," she added, witha mischievous grin. "I'm tired of carrying him."

  A boy sitting near by on a door-step, jumped up eagerly. "Let me play,too, Jerusha!" he cried. "I'll be one of the robbers. I know just thebest places to hide!"

  The girl paused an instant in her choosing to say impatiently, althoughnot meaning to be unkind, "Oh, no, Joel! We do not want you. You're toolame to run. You can't play with us!"

  The bright, eager look died out of the boy's face, and an angry lightshone in his eyes. He pressed his lips together hard, and sat down againon the step.

  There was a patter of many bare feet as the children raced away. Theirvoices sounded fainter and fainter, till they were lost entirely in thenoise of the busy street.

  Usually, Joel found plenty to amuse and interest him here. He liked towatch the sleepy donkeys with their loads of fresh fruit and vegetables.He liked to listen to the men as they cried their wares, or chatted overthe bargains with their customers. There was always something new to beseen in the stalls and booths. There was always something new to beheard in the scraps of conversation that came to him where he sat.

  Down this street there sometimes came long caravans; for this was "thehighway to the sea,"--the road that led from Egypt to Syria. Strange,dusky faces sometimes passed this way; richly dressed merchant princeswith their priceless stuffs from beyond the Nile; heavy loads ofBabylonian carpets; pearls from Ceylon, and rich silks for the court ofthe wicked Herodias, in the town beyond. Fisherman and sailor, rabbi andbusy workman passed in an endless procession.

  Sometimes a Roman soldier from the garrison came by with ringing stepand clanking sword. Then Joel would start up to look after the erectfigure, with a longing gaze that told more plainly than words, hisadmiration of such strength and symmetry.

  But this morning the crowd gave him a strange, lonely feeling,--a hungrylonging for companionship.

  Two half-grown boys passed by on their way to the lake, with fish netsslung over their shoulders. He knew the larger one,--a rough,kind-hearted fellow who had once taken him in his boat across the lake.He gave Joel a careless, good-natured nod as he passed. A moment afterhe felt a timid pull at the fish net he was carrying, and turned to seethe little cripple's appealing face.

  "Oh, Dan!" he cried eagerly. "Are you going out on the lake thismorning? Could you take me with you?"

  The boy hesitated. Whatever kindly answer he may have given, was rudelyinterrupted by his companion, whom Joel had never seen before.

  "Oh, no!" he said roughly. "We don't want anybody limping along afterus. You can't come, Jonah; you would bring us bad luck."

  "My name isn't Jonah!" screamed the boy, angrily clinching his fists."It's Joel!"

  "Well, it is all the same," his tormentor called back, with a coarselaugh. "You're a Jonah, any way."

  There were tears in the boy's eyes this time, as he dragged himself backagain to the step.

  "I hate everybody in the world!" he said in a hissing sort of whisper."I hate'm! I hate'm!"

  A stranger passing by turned for a second look at the little cripple'ssensitive, refined face. A girlishly beautiful face it would have been,were it not for the heavy scowl that darkened it.

  Joel pulled the ends of his head-dress round to hide his crooked back,and drew the loose robe he wore over his twisted leg.

  Life seemed very bitter to him just then. He would gladly have changedplaces with the heavily laden donkey going by.

  "I wish I were dead," he thought moodily. "Then I would not ache anymore, and I could not hear when people call me names!"

  Beside the door where he sat was a stand where tools and hardware wereoffered for sale. A man who had been standing there for some time,selecting nails from the boxes placed before him, and had heard all thatpassed, spoke to him.

  "Joel, my lad, may I ask your help for a little while?" The friendlyquestion seemed to change the whole atmosphere.

  Joel drew his hands across his eyes to clear them of the blur of tearshe was too proud to let fall, and then stood up respectfully. "Yes,Rabbi Phineas, what would you have me to do?"

  The carpenter gathered up some strips of lumber in one hand, and hishammer and saws in the other.

  "I have my hands too full to carry these nails," he answered. "If youcould bring them for me, it would be a great service."

  If the man had offered him pity, Joel would have fiercely resented it.His sensitive nature appreciated the unspoken sympathy, the fine tactthat soothed his pride by asking a service of him, instead of seeking torender one.

  He could not define the feeling, but he gratefully took up the bag ofnails, and limped along beside his friend to the carpenter's house atthe edge of the town. He had never been there before, although he metthe man daily in the market-place, and long ago had learned to lookforward to his pleasant greeting; it was so different from mostpeople's. Somehow the morning always seemed brighter after he had methim.

  The little whitewashed house stood in the shade of two great fig-treesnear the beach. A cool breeze from the Galilee lifted the leaves, andswayed the
vines growing around the low door.

  Joel, tired by the long walk, was glad to throw himself on the grass inthe shade. It was so still and quiet here, after the noise of the streethe had just left.

  An old hen clucked around the door-step with a brood of downy, yellowchickens. Doves cooed softly, somewhere out of sight. The carpenter'sbench stood under one of the trees, with shavings and chips all aroundit. Two children were playing near it, building houses of the scatteredblocks; one of them, a black-eyed, sturdy boy of five, kept on playing.The other, a little girl, not yet three, jumped up and followed herfather into the house. Her curls gleamed like gold as she ran throughthe sunshine. She glanced at the stranger with deep-blue eyes so likeher father's that Joel held out his hand.

  "Come and tell me your name," he said coaxingly. But she only shook thecurls all over her dimpled face, and hurried into the house.

  "It's Ruth," said the boy, deigning to look up. "And mine is Jesse, andmy mother's is Abigail, and my father's is Phineas, and my grandfather'sis--"

  How far back he would have gone in his genealogy, Joel could not guess;for just then his father came out with a cool, juicy melon, and Jessehurried forward to get his share.

  "How good it is!" sighed Joel, as the first refreshing mouthful slippeddown his thirsty throat. "And how cool and pleasant it is out here. Idid not know there was such a peaceful spot in all Capernaum."

  "Didn't you always live here?" asked the inquisitive Jesse.

  "No, I was born in Jerusalem. I was to have been a priest," he saidsadly.

  "Well, why didn't you be one then," persisted the child, with his mouthfull of melon.

  Joel glanced down at his twisted leg, and said nothing.

  "Why?" repeated the boy.

  Phineas, who had gone back to his work-bench, looked up kindly. "You asktoo many questions, my son. No one can be a priest who is maimed orblemished in any way. Some sad accident must have befallen our littlefriend, and it may be painful for him to talk about it."

  Jesse asked no more questions with his tongue; but his sharp, black eyeswere fixed on Joel like two interrogation points.

  "I do not mind telling about it," said Joel, sitting up straighter."Once when I was not much older than you, just after my mother died, myfather brought me up to this country from Jerusalem, to visit my AuntLeah.

  "I used to play down here by the lake, with my cousins, in thefishermen's boats. There was a boy that came to the beach sometimes, agreat deal larger than I,--a dog of a Samaritan,--who pulled my hairand threw sand in my eyes. He was so much stronger than I, that I couldnot do anything to him but call him names. But early one morning he wasswimming in the lake. I hid his clothes in the oleander bushes thatfringe the water. Oh, but he was angry! I wanted him to be. But I had tokeep away from the lake after that.

  "One day some older children took me to the hills back of the town togather almonds. This Rehum followed us. I had strayed away from theothers a little distance, and was stooping to put the nuts in my basket,when he slipped up behind me. How he beat me! I screamed so that theother children came running back to me. When he saw them coming, he gaveme a great push that sent me rolling over a rocky bank. It was not veryhigh, but there were sharp stones below.

  "They thought I was dead when they picked me up. It was months before Icould walk at all; and I can never be any better than I am now. Just asmy father was about to take me back to Jerusalem, he took a suddenfever, and died. So I was left, a poor helpless burden for my aunt totake care of. It has been six years since then."

  Joel threw himself full length on the grass, and scowled up at the sky.

  "Where is that boy that hurt you," asked Jesse.

  "Rehum?" questioned Joel. "I wish I knew," he muttered fiercely. "Oh,how I hate him! I can never be a priest as my father intended. I cannever serve in the beautiful temple with the white pillars and goldengates. I can never be like other people, but must drag along, deformedand full of pain as long as I live. And it's all his fault!"

  A sudden gleam lit up the boy's eyes, as lightning darts through astorm-cloud.

  "But I shall have my revenge!" he added, clinching his fists. "I cannotdie till I have made him feel at least a tithe of what I have suffered.'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth!' That is the least that cansatisfy me. Oh, you cannot know how I long for that time! Often I lieawake late into the night, planning my revenge. Then I forget how myback hurts and my leg pains; then I forget all the names I have beencalled, and the taunts that make my life a burden. But they all comeback with the daylight; and I store them up and add them to his account.For everything he has made me suffer, I swear he shall pay for itfour-fold in his own sufferings!"

  Ruth shrank away, frightened by the wild, impassioned boy who sat up,angrily staring in front of him with eyes that saw nothing of the sweet,green-clad world around him. The face of his enemy blotted out all thesunny landscape. One murderous purpose filled him, mind and soul.

  Nothing was said for a little while. The doves as before cooed of peace,and Phineas began a steady tap-tap with his hammer.

  A pleasant-faced woman came out of the door with a water-jar on herhead, and passed down the path to the public well. She gave Joel afriendly greeting in passing.

  "Wait, mother!" lisped Ruth, as she ran after her. The woman turned tosmile at the little one, and held out her hand. Her dress, of some soft,cotton material, hung in long flowing folds. It was a rich blue color,caught at the waist with a white girdle. The turban wound around herdark hair was white also, and so was the veil she pushed aside farenough to show a glimpse of brown eyes and red cheeks. She wore a broadsilver bracelet on the bare arm which was raised to hold the water-jar,and the rings in her ears and talismans on her neck were of quaintlywrought silver.

  "I did not know it was so late," said Joel, rising to his feet. "Timepasses so fast here."

  "Nay, do not go," said Phineas. "It is a long walk back to your home,and the sun is very hot. Stay and eat dinner with us."

  Joel hesitated; but the invitation was repeated so cordially, that helet Jesse pull him down on the grass again.

  "Now I'll tickle your lips with this blade of grass," said the child."See how long you can keep from laughing."

  When Abigail came back with the water, both the boys were laughing asheartily as if there had never been an ache or pain in the world. Shesmiled at them approvingly, as she led the way into the house.

  Joel looked around with much curiosity. It was like most of the otherhouses of its kind in the town. There was only one large square room, inwhich the family cooked, ate, and slept; but on every side it showedthat Phineas had left traces of his skilful hands.

  There was a tiny window cut in one wall; most of the houses of thisdescription had none, but depended on the doorway for light and air.Several shelves around the walls held the lamp and the earthenwaredishes. The chest made to hold the rugs and cushions which they spreaddown at night to sleep on, was unusually large and ornamental. A broom,a handmill, and a bushel stood in one corner.

  Near the door, a table which Phineas had made, stood spread for themid-day meal.

  There was broiled fish on one of the platters, beans and barley bread, adish of honey, and a pitcher of milk. The fare was just the same thatJoel was accustomed to in his uncle's house; but something made thesimple meal seem like a banquet. It may have been that the long walk hadmade him hungrier than usual, or it may have been because he was treatedas the honored guest, instead of a child tolerated through charity.

  He watched his host carefully, as he poured the water over his handsbefore eating, and asked a blessing on the food.

  "He does not keep the law as strictly as my Uncle Laban," was his inwardcomment. "He asked only one blessing, and Uncle Laban blesses every kindof food separately. But he must be a good man, even if he is not sostrict a Pharisee as my uncle, for he is kinder than any one I ever knewbefore."

  It was wonderful how much Joel had learned, in his eleven short years,of the Law. His aunt's h
usband had grown to manhood in Jerusalem, and,unlike the simple Galileans among whom he now lived, tried to observeits most detailed rules.

  The child heard them discussed continually, till he felt he couldneither eat, drink, nor dress, except by these set rules. He could notplay like other children, and being so much with older people had madehim thoughtful and observant.

  He had learned to read very early; and hour after hour he spent in thehouse of Rabbi Amos, the most learned man of the town, poring over hisrolls of scriptures. Think of a childhood without a picture, or astory-book! All that there was to read were these old records of Jewishhistory.

  The old man had taken a fancy to him, finding him an appreciativelistener and an apt pupil. So Joel was allowed to come whenever hepleased, and take out the yellow rolls of parchment from their velvetcovers.

  He was never perfectly happy except at these times, when he was readingthese old histories of his country's greatness. How he enjoyed chasingthe armies of the Philistines, and fighting over again the battles ofIsrael's kings! Many a tale he stored away in his busy brain to berepeated to the children gathered around the public fountain in the coolof the evening.

  It mattered not what character he told them of,--priest or prophet,judge or king,--the picture was painted in life-like colors by thispatriotic little hero-worshipper.

  Here and at home he heard so many discussions about what was lawful andwhat was not, that he was constantly in fear of breaking one of the manyrules, even in as simple a duty as washing a cup.

  So he watched his host closely till the meal was over, finding that inthe observance of many customs, he failed to measure up to his uncle'sstrict standard.

  Phineas went back to his work after dinner. He was greatly interested inJoel, and, while he sawed and hammered, kept a watchful eye on him. Hewas surprised at the boy's knowledge. More than once he caught himselfstanding with an idle tool in hand, as he listened to some story thatJoel was telling to Jesse.

  After a while he laid down his work and leaned against the bench. "Whatdo you find to do all day, my lad?" he asked, abruptly.

  "Nothing," answered Joel, "after I have recited my lessons to RabbiAmos."

  "Does your aunt never give you any tasks to do at home?"

  "No. I think she does not like to have me in her sight any more than sheis obliged to. She is always kind to me, but she doesn't love me. Sheonly pities me. I hate to be pitied. There is not a single one in theworld who really loves me."

  His lips quivered, but he winked back the tears. Phineas seemed lost inthought a few minutes; then he looked up. "You are a Levite," he saidslowly, "so of course you could always be supported without needing tolearn a trade. Still you would be a great deal happier, in my opinion,if you had something to keep you busy. If you like, I will teach you tobe a carpenter. There are a great many things you might learn to makewell, and, by and by, it would be a source of profit to you. There is nobread so bitter as the bread of dependence, as you may learn when youare older."

  "Oh, Rabbi Phineas!" cried Joel. "Do you mean that I may come here everyday? It is too good to be true!"

  "Yes; if you will promise to stick to it until you have mastered thetrade. If you are as quick to learn with your hands as you have beenwith your head, I shall have reason to be proud of such a pupil."

  Joel's face flushed with pleasure, and he sprang up quickly, saying,"May I begin right now? Oh, I'll try _so_ hard to please you!"

  Phineas laid a soft pine board on the bench, and began to mark a lineacross it with a piece of red chalk.

  "Well, you may see how straight a cut you can make through this plank."

  He picked up a saw, and ran his fingers lightly along its sharp teeth.But he paused in the act of handing it to Joel, to ask, "You are sure,now, that your uncle and aunt will consent to such an arrangement?"

  "Yes indeed!" was the emphatic answer. "They will be glad enough to haveme out of the way, and learning something useful."

  The saw cut slowly through the wood; for the weak little hand was acareful one, and the boy was determined not to swerve once from theline. He smiled with satisfaction as the pieces fell apart, showing aclean, straight edge.

  "Well done!" said Phineas, kindly. "Now let me see you drive a nail."Made bold by his first success, Joel pounded away vigorously, but thehammer slipped more than once, and his unpractised fingers ached withthe blows that he had aimed at the nail's head.

  "You'll soon learn," said Phineas, with an encouraging pat on the boy'sshoulder. "Gather up those odds and ends under the bench. When you'vesawed them into equal lengths, I'll show you how to make a box."

  Joel bent over his work with almost painful intensity. He fairly heldhis breath, as he made the measurements. He gripped the saw as if hislife depended on the strength of his hold. Phineas smiled at hisearnestness.

  "Be careful, my lad," he said. "You will soon wear out at that rate."

  It seemed to Joel that there never had been such a short afternoon. Hehad stopped to rest several times, when Phineas had insisted upon it;but this new work had all the fascination of an interesting game. Thetrees threw giant shadows across the grass, when he finally laid histools aside. His back ached with so much unusual exercise, and he wasvery tired.

  "Rabbi Phineas," he asked gently, after a long pause, "what makes you sogood to me? What makes you so different from other people? While I amwith you, I feel like I want to be good. Other people seem to rub me thewrong way, and make me cross and hateful; then I feel like I'd ratherbe wicked than not. Why this afternoon, I've scarcely thought of Rehumat all. I forgot at times that I am lame. When you talk to me, I feellike I did that day Dan took me out on the lake. It seemed a differentkind of a world,--all blue sky and smooth water. I felt if I could stayout there all the time, where it was so quiet and comforting, that Icould not even hate Rehum as much as I do."

  A surprised, pleased look passed over the man's face. "Do I really makeyou feel that way, little one? Then I am indeed glad. Once when I was ayoung boy living in Nazareth, I had a playmate who had that influenceover me and all the boys he played with. I never could be selfish andimpatient when he was with me. His very presence rebuked suchthoughts,--when we were children playing together, like my own twolittle ones there, and when we were older grown, working at the samebench. It has been many a long year since I left Nazareth, but I thinkof him daily. Even now, after our long separation, the thought of hisblameless life inspires me to a higher living. Yes," he went onmusingly, more to himself than the boy, "it was like music. Surely nowhite-robed priest in the holy temple ever offered up more acceptablepraise than the perfect harmony of his daily life."

  Joel's lips trembled. "If I had ever had one real friend to care forme--not just pity me, you know--maybe I would have been different. But Ihave never had a single one since my father died."

  Phineas smiled, and held out his hand. "You have one now, my lad, neverforget that."

  The strong brown hand closed in a warm grasp, and Joel drew it, with agrateful impulse, to his lips. Ruth came up with wondering eyes. Shecould not understand what had passed; but Joel's eyes were full oftears, and she vaguely felt that he needed comfort. She had a pet pigeonin her arms, that she carried everywhere with her.

  "Here," she lisped, holding out the snowy winged bird. "Boy, take it!Boy, keep it!"

  Joel looked up inquiringly at Phineas. "Take it," he said, in a lowtone. "Let it be the omen of a happier life commencing for you."

  "I never had a pet of any kind before," said Joel, in delight, smoothingthe white wings folded contentedly against his breast. "But she lovesit so, I dislike to take it from her. How beautiful it is!"

  "My little Ruth is a born comforter," said Phineas, tossing her up inhis arms. "Shall Joel take the pigeon home with him, little daughter?"

  "Yes," she answered, nodding her head. "Boy cried."

  "I'll name it 'Little Friend,'" said Joel, rising with it in his arms."I'll take it home with me, and keep it until after the Sabbath, to makem
e feel sure that this day has not been just a dream; but I will bringit back next time I come. I can see it here every day, and it will behappier here. Oh, Rabbi Phineas, I can never thank you enough for thisday!"

  It was a pitiful little figure that limped away homeward in the fadinglight, with the white pigeon in his arms.

  Looking anxiously up in the sky, Joel saw one star come twinkling out.The Sabbath would soon begin, and then he must not be found carryingeven so much as this one poor little pigeon. The slightest burden wouldbe unlawful.

  As he hurried on, the loud blast of a trumpet, blown from the roof ofthe synagogue, signalled the laborers in the fields to stop all work.He knew that very soon it would sound again, to call the town peoplefrom their tasks; and at the third blast, the Sabbath lamp would belighted in every home.

  Fearful of his uncle's displeasure at his tardiness, he hurriedpainfully onward, to provide food and a resting-place for his "littlefriend" before the second sounding of the trumpet.