Joel: A Boy of Galilee Read online

  CHAPTER III.

  IT was nearly the close of the day when the long caravan halted, andtents were pitched for the night near a little brook that came splashingdown from a cold mountain-spring.

  Joel, exhausted by the long day's travel, crowded so full of newexperiences, was glad to stretch his cramped limbs on a blanket thatPhineas took from the camel's back.

  Here, through half-shut eyes, he watched the building of the camp-fire,and the preparations for the evening meal.

  "I wonder what Uncle Laban would do if he were here!" he said toPhineas, with an amused smile. "Look at those dirty drivers with theirunwashed hands and unblessed food. How little regard they have for theLaw. Uncle Laban would fast a lifetime rather than taste anything thathad even been passed over a fire of their building. I can imagine I seehim now, gathering up his skirts and walking on the tips of his sandalsfor fear of being touched by anything unclean."

  "Your Uncle Laban is a good man," answered Phineas, "one careful not totransgress the Law."

  "Yes," said the boy. "But I like your way better. You keep the fasts,and repeat the prayers, and love God and your neighbors. Uncle Laban iscareful to do the first two things; I am not so sure about the others.Life is too short to be always washing one's hands."

  Phineas looked at the little fellow sharply. How shrewd and old heseemed for one of his years! Such independence of thought was unusual ina child trained as he had been. He scarcely knew how to answer him, sohe turned his attention to spreading out the fruits and bread he hadbrought for their supper.

  Next morning, after the caravan had gone on without them, they startedup a narrow bridle-path, that led through hillside-pastures where flocksof sheep and goats were feeding.

  The dew was still on the grass, and the air was so fresh and sweet inthis higher altitude that Joel walked on with a feeling of strength andvigor unknown to him before.

  "Oh, look!" he cried, clasping his hands in delight, as a sudden turnbrought them to the upper course of the brook whose waters, falling farbelow, had refreshed them the night before.

  The poetry of the Psalms came as naturally to the lips of thisbeauty-loving little Israelite as the breath he drew.

  Now he repeated, in a low, reverent voice, "'The Lord is my shepherd; Ishall not want.' Oh, Rabbi Phineas, did you ever know before that therecould be such green pastures and still waters?"

  The man smiled at the boy's radiant, upturned face. "'Yea, the earth isthe Lord's and the fulness thereof,'" he murmured. "We have indeed agoodly heritage."

  Hushed into silence by the voice of the hills and the beauty on everyside, they walked on till the road turned again.

  Just ahead stood a house unusually large for a country district;everything about it bore an air of wealth and comfort.

  "Our journey is at an end now," said Phineas. "Yonder lies the house ofNathan ben Obed. He owns all those flocks and herds we have seen inpassing this last half hour. It is with him that I have business; and wewill tarry with him until after the Sabbath."

  They were evidently expected, for a servant came running out to meetthem. He opened the gate and conducted them into a shaded court-yard.Here another servant took off their dusty sandals, and gave them waterto wash their feet.

  They had barely finished, when an old man appeared in the doorway; hislong beard and hair were white as the abba he wore.

  Phineas would have bowed himself to the ground before him, but the oldman prevented it, by hurrying to take both hands in his, and kiss him oneach cheek.

  "Peace be to thee, thou son of my good friend Jesse!" he said. "Thou artindeed most welcome."

  Joel lagged behind. He was always sensitive about meeting strangers; butthe man's cordial welcome soon put him at his ease.

  He was left to himself a great deal during the few days following. Thebusiness on which the old man had summoned Phineas required longconsultations.

  One day they rode away together to some outlying pastures, and were goneuntil night-fall. Joel did not miss them. He was spending long happyhours in the country sunshine. There was something to entertain him,every way he turned. For a while he amused himself by sitting in thedoor and poring over a roll of parchment that Sarah, the wife of Nathanben Obed, brought him to read.

  She was an old woman, but one would have found it hard to think so, hadhe seen how briskly she went about her duties of caring for such a largehousehold.

  After Joel had read for some little time, he became aware that some onewas singing outside, in a whining, monotonous way, and he laid down hisbook to listen. The voice was not loud, but so penetrating he could notshut it out, and fix his mind on his story again. So he rolled up theparchment and laid it on the chest from which it had been taken; thenwinding his handkerchief around his head, turban fashion, he limped outin the direction of the voice.

  Just around the corner of the house, under a great oak-tree, a woman satchurning. From three smooth poles joined at the top to form a tripod, agoat-skin bag hung by long leather straps. This was filled with cream;she was slapping it violently back and forth in time to her weird song.

  Her feet were bare, and she wore only a coarse cotton dress. But a gayred handkerchief covered her black hair, and heavy copper rings hungfrom her nose and ears.

  The song stopped suddenly as she saw Joel. Then recognizing her master'sguest, she smiled at him so broadly that he could see her pretty whiteteeth.

  Joel hardly knew what to say at this unexpected encounter, but bethoughthimself to ask the way to the sheep-folds and the watch-tower. "It is along way there," said the woman, doubtfully; Joel flushed as he felt herblack eyes scanning his misshapen form.

  Just then Sarah appeared in the door, and the maid repeated the questionto her mistress.

  "To be sure," she said. "You must go out and see our shepherds withtheir flocks. We have a great many employed just now, on all thesurrounding hills. Rhoda, call your son, and bid him bring hither thedonkey that he always drives to market."

  The woman left her churning, and presently came back with a boy aboutJoel's age, leading a donkey with only one ear.

  Joel knew what that meant. At some time in its life the poor beast hadstrayed into some neighbor's field, and the owner of the field had beenat liberty to cut off an ear in punishment.

  The boy that led him wore a long shirt of rough hair-cloth. His feet andlegs were brown and tanned. A shock of reddish sunburned hair was theonly covering for his head. There was a squint in one eye, and his facewas freckled.

  He made an awkward obeisance to his mistress.

  "Buz," she said, "this young lad is your master's guest. Take him outand show him the flocks and herds, and the sheep-folds. He has neverseen anything of shepherd life, so be careful to do his pleasure. Stay!"she added to Joel. "You will not have time to visit them all before themid-day meal, so I will give you a lunch, and you can enjoy an entireday in the fields."

  As the two boys started down the hill, Joel stole a glance at hiscompanion. "What a stupid-looking fellow!" he thought; "I doubt if heknows anything more than this sleepy beast I am riding. I wonder if heenjoys any of this beautiful world around him. How glad I am that I amnot in his place."

  Buz, trudging along in the dust, glanced at the little cripple on thedonkey's back with an inward shiver.

  "What a dreadful lot his must be," he thought. "How glad I am that I amnot like he is!"

  It was not very long till the shyness began to wear off, and Joel foundthat the stupid shepherd lad had a very busy brain under his shock oftangled hair. His eyes might squint, but they knew just where to look inthe bushes for the little hedge-sparrow's nest. They could take unerringaim, too, when he sent the smooth sling-stones whizzing from the slinghe carried.

  "How far can you shoot with it?" asked Joel.

  For answer Buz looked all around for some object on which to try hisskill; then he pointed to a hawk slowly circling overhead. Joel watchedhim fit a smooth pebble into his sling; he had no thought that the boycould touch it at such
a distance. The stone whizzed through the airlike a bullet, and the bird dropped several yards ahead of them.

  "See!" said Buz, as he ran to pick it up, and display it proudly. "Istruck it in the head."

  Joel looked at him with increasing respect. "That must have been thekind of sling that King David killed the giant with," he said, handingit back after a careful examination.

  "King David!" repeated Buz, dully, "seems to me I have heard of him,sometime or other; but I don't know about the giant."

  "Why where have you been all your life?" cried Joel, in amazement. "Ithought everybody knew about that. Did you never go to a synagogue?"

  Buz shook his bushy head. "They don't have synagogues in these parts.The master calls us in and reads to us on the Sabbath; but I always getsleepy when I sit right still, and so I generally get behind somebodyand go to sleep. The shepherds talk to each other a good deal about suchthings, I am never with them though. I spend all my time runningerrands."

  Shocked at such ignorance, Joel began to tell the shepherd king's lifewith such eloquence that Buz stopped short in the road to listen.

  Seeing this the donkey stood still also, wagged its one ear, and went tosleep. But Buz listened, wider awake than he had ever been before in hislife.

  The story was a favorite one with Joel, and he put his whole soul intoit.

  "Who told you that?" asked Buz, taking a long breath when theinteresting tale was finished.

  "Why I read it myself!" answered Joel.

  "Oh, can you read?" asked Buz, looking at Joel in much the same way thatJoel had looked at him after he killed the hawk. "I do not see howanybody can. It puzzles me how people can look at all those crookedblack marks and call them rivers and flocks and things. I looked onetime, just where Master had been reading about a great battle. And Ididn't see a single thing that looked like a warrior or a sword or abattle-axe, though he called them all by name. There were several littleround marks that might have been meant for sling-stones; but it was morethan I could make out, how he could get any sense out of it."

  Joel leaned back and laughed till the hills rang, laughed till the tearsstood in his eyes, and the donkey waked up and ambled on.

  Buz did not seem to be in the least disturbed by his merriment, althoughhe was puzzled as to its cause. He only stooped to pick up more stonesfor his sling as they went on.

  It was not long till they came to some of the men,--great brawny fellowsdressed in skins, with coarse matted hair and tanned faces. How littlethey knew of what was going on in the busy world outside their fields!As Joel talked to them he found that Caesar's conquests and Hero'smurders had only come to them as vague rumors. All the petty wars andpolitical turmoils were unknown to them. They could talk to him only oftheir flocks and their faith, both as simple as their lives.

  Joel, in his wisdom learned of the Rabbis, felt himself infinitely theirsuperior, child though he was. But he enjoyed his day spent with them.He and Buz ate the ample lunch they had brought, dipped up water fromthe brook in cups they made of oak-leaves, and both finally fell asleepto the droning music of the shepherd's pipes, played softly on theuplands.

  A distant rumble of thunder aroused them, late in the afternoon; andthey started up to find the shepherds calling in their flocks. The gauntsheep dogs raced to and fro, bringing the straying goats together. Theshepherds brought the sheep into line with well-aimed sling-shots,touching them first on one side, and then on the other, as oxen areguided by the touch of the goad.

  Joel looked up at the darkening sky with alarm. "Who would have thoughtof a storm on such a day!" he exclaimed.

  Buz cocked his eyes at the horizon. "I thought it might come to this,"he said; "for as we came along this morning there were no spider-webson the grass; the ants had not uncovered the doors of their hills; andall the signs pointed to wet weather. I thought though, that the time ofthe latter rains had passed a week ago. I am always glad when the stormyseason is over. This one is going to be a hard one."

  "What shall we do?" asked Joel.

  Buz scratched his head. Then he looked at Joel. "You never could gethome on that trifling donkey before it overtakes us; and they'll beworried about you. I'd best take you up to the sheep-fold. You can stayall night there, very comfortably. I'll run home and tell them where youare, and come back for you in the morning."

  Joel hesitated, appalled at spending the night among such dirty men; butthe heavy boom of thunder, steadily rolling nearer, silenced hishalf-spoken objection. By the time the donkey had carried him up thehillside to the stone-walled enclosure round the watch-tower, theshepherds were at the gates with their flocks.

  Joel watched them go through the narrow passage, one by one. Each mankept count of his own sheep, and drove them under the rough sheds put upfor their protection.

  A good-sized hut was built against the hillside, where the shepherdsmight find refuge. Buz pointed it out to Joel; then he turned the donkeyinto one of the sheds, and started homeward on the run.

  Joel shuddered as a blinding flash of lightning was followed by a crashof thunder that shook the hut. The wind bore down through the trees likesome savage spirit, shrieking and moaning as it flew. Joel heard ashout, and looked out to the opposite hillside. Buz was flying along inbreak-neck race with the storm. At that rate he would soon be home. Howhe seemed to enjoy the race, as his strong limbs carried him lightly asa bird soars!

  At the top he turned to look back and laugh and wave his arms,--a sinewylittle figure standing out in bold relief against a brazen sky.

  Joel watched till he was out of sight. Then, as the wind swooped downfrom the mountains, great drops of rain began to splash through theleaves.

  The men crowded into the hut. One of them started forward to close thedoor, but stopped suddenly, with his brown hairy hand uplifted.

  "Hark ye!" he exclaimed.

  Joel heard only the shivering of the wind in the tree-tops; but theman's trained ear caught the bleating of a stray lamb, far off and veryfaint.

  "I was afraid I was mistaken in my count; they jostled through the gateso fast I could not be sure." Going to a row of pegs along the wall, hetook down a lantern hanging there and lit it; then wrapping his coat ofskins more closely around him, and calling one of the dogs, he set outinto the gathering darkness.

  Joel watched the fitful gleam of the lantern, flickering on unsteadilyas a will-o'-the-wisp. A moment later he heard the man's deep voicecalling tenderly to the lost animal; then the storm struck with suchfury that they had to stand with their backs against the door of the hutto keep it closed.

  Flash after flash of lightning blinded them. The wind roared down themountain and beat against the house till Joel held his breath in terror.It was midnight before it stopped. Joel thought of the poor shepherd outon the hills, and shuddered. Even the men seemed uneasy about him, ashour after hour passed, and he did not come.

  Finally he fell asleep in the corner, on a pile of woolly skins. In thegray dawn he was awakened by a great shout. He got up, and went to thedoor. There stood the shepherd. His bare limbs were cut by stones andtorn by thorns. Blood streamed from his forehead where he had beenwounded by a falling branch. The mud on his rough garments showed howoften he had slipped and fallen on the steep paths.

  Joel noticed, with a thrill of sympathy, how painfully he limped. Butthere on the bowed shoulders was the lamb he had wandered so far tofind; and as the welcoming shout arose again, Joel's weak little cheerjoined gladly in.

  "How brave and strong he is," thought the boy. "He risked his life forjust one pitiful little lamb."

  The child's heart went strangely out to this rough fellow who stoodholding the shivering animal, sublimely unconscious that he had doneanything more than a simple duty.

  Joel, who felt uncommonly hungry after his supperless night, thought hewould mount the donkey and start back alone. But just as he was about todo so, a familiar bushy head showed itself in the door of the sheepfold.Buz had brought him some wheat-cakes and cheese to eat on the way back.
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  Joel was so busy with this welcome meal that he did not talk much. Buzkept eying him in silence, as if he longed to ask some question. Atlast, when the cheese had entirely disappeared, he found courage to askit.

  "Were you always like that?" he said abruptly, motioning to Joel's backand leg. Somehow the reference did not wound him as it generally did. Hebegan to tell Buz about the Samaritan boy who had crippled him. He neverwas able to tell the story of his wrongs without growing passionatelyangry. He had worked himself into a white heat by the time he hadfinished.

  "I'd get even with him," said Buz, excitedly, with a wicked squint ofhis eyes.

  "How would you do it?" demanded Joel. "Cripple him as he did me?"

  "Worse than that!" exclaimed Buz, stopping to take deliberate aim at aleaf overhead, and shooting a hole exactly through the centre with hissling. "I'd blind him as quick as that! It's a great deal worse to beblind than lame."

  Joel closed his eyes, and rode on a few moments in darkness. Then heopened them and gave a quick glad look around the landscape. "My! Whatif I never could have opened them again," he thought. "Yes, Buz, you'reright," he said aloud. "It _is_ worse to be blind; so I shall takeRehum's eyesight also, some time. Oh, if that time were only here!"

  Although the subject of the miracle at Cana had been constantly in themind of Phineas, and often near his lips, he did not speak of it to hishost until the evening before his departure.

  It was just at the close of the evening meal. Nathan ben Obed rosehalf-way from his seat in astonishment, then sank back.

  "How old a man is this friend of yours?" he asked.

  "About thirty, I think," answered Phineas. "He is a little younger thanI."

  "Where was he born?"

  "In Bethlehem, I have heard it said, though his home has always been inNazareth."

  "Strange, strange!" muttered the man, stroking his long white beardthoughtfully.

  Joel reached over and touched Phineas on the arm. "Will you not tellRabbi Nathan about the wonderful star that was seen at that time?" heasked, in a low tone.

  "What was that?" asked the old man, arousing from his reverie.

  When Phineas had repeated his conversation with the stranger on the dayof his journey, Nathan ben Obed exchanged meaning glances with hiswife.

  "Send for the old shepherd Heber," he said. "I would have speech withhim."

  Rhoda came in to light the lamps. He bade her roll a cushioned couchthat was in one corner to the centre of the room.

  "This old shepherd Heber was born in Bethlehem," he said; "but since hissons and grandsons have been in my employ, he has come north to live. Heused to help keep the flocks that belonged to the Temple, and that wereused for sacrifices. His has always been one of the purest of lives; andI have never known such faith as he has. He is over a hundred years old,so must have been quite aged at the time of the event of which he willtell us."

  Presently an old, old man tottered into the room, leaning on theshoulders of his two stalwart grandsons. They placed him gently on thecushions of the couch, and then went into the court-yard to await hisreadiness to return. Like the men Joel had seen the day before, theywere dressed in skins, and were wild-looking and rough. But this agedfather, with dim eyes and trembling wrinkled hands, sat before them likesome hoary patriarch, in a fine linen mantle.

  Pleased as a child, he saluted his new audience, and began to tell themhis only story.

  As the years had gone by, one by one the lights of memory had gone outin darkness. Well-known scenes had grown dim; old faces were forgotten;names he knew as well as his own, could not be recalled: but this onestory was as fresh and real to him, as on the night he learned it.

  The words he chose were simple, the voice was tremulous with weakness;but he spoke with a dramatic fervor that made Joel creep nearer andnearer, until he knelt, unknowing, at the old man's knee, spell-bound bythe wonderful tale.

  "We were keeping watch in the fields by night," began the old shepherd,"I and my sons and my brethren. It was still and cold, and we spoke butlittle to each other. Suddenly over all the hills and plains shone agreat light,--brighter than light of moon or stars or sunshine. It wasso heavenly white we knew it must be the glory of the Lord we lookedupon and we were sore afraid, and hid our faces, falling to the ground.And, lo! an angel overhead spake to us from out of the midst of theglory, saying, 'Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of greatjoy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in thecity of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be asign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes,lying in a manger.'

  "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly hostpraising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth,good-will toward men!'

  "Oh, the sound of the rejoicing that filled that upper air! Ever sincein my heart have I carried that foretaste of heaven!"

  The old shepherd paused, with such a light on his upturned face that heseemed to his awestruck listeners to be hearing again that same angelicchorus,--the chorus that rang down from the watch-towers of heaven,across earth's lowly sheep-fold, on that first Christmas night.

  There was a solemn hush. Then he said, "And when they were gone away,and the light and the song were no more with us, we spake one toanother, and rose in haste and went to Bethlehem. And we found the Babelying in a manger with Mary its mother; and we fell down and worshippedHim.

  "Thirty years has it been since the birth of Israel's Messiah; and I sitand wonder all the day,--wonder when He will appear once more to Hispeople. Surely the time must be well nigh here when He may claim Hiskingdom. O Lord, let not Thy servant depart until these eyes thatbeheld the Child shall have seen the King in His beauty!"

  Joel remained kneeling beside old Heber, perfectly motionless. He wasfitting together the links that he had lately found. A child, heraldedby angels, proclaimed by a star worshipped by the Magi! A man changingwater into wine at only a word!

  "I shall yet see Him!" exclaimed the voice of old Heber, with suchsublime assurance of faith that it found a response in every heart.

  There was another solemn stillness, so deep that the soft fluttering ofa night-moth around the lamp startled them.

  Then the child's voice rang out, eager and shrill, but triumphant as ifinspired: "Rabbi Phineas, _He_ it was who changed the water intowine!--This friend of Nazareth and the babe of Bethlehem are the same!"

  The heart of the carpenter was strangely stirred, but it was full ofdoubt. Not that the Christ had been born,--the teachings of all hislifetime led him to expect that; but that the chosen One could be afriend of his,--the thought was too wonderful for him.

  The old shepherd sat on the couch, feebly twisting his fingers, andtalking to himself. He was repeating bits of the story he had just toldthem: "And, lo, an angel overhead!" he muttered. Then he looked up,whispering softly, "Glory to God in the highest--and peace, yes, onearth peace!"

  "He seems to have forgotten everything else," said Nathan, signalling tothe men outside to lead him home. "His mind is wiped away entirely, thatit may keep unspotted the record of that night's revelation. He tells itover and over, whether he has a listener or not."

  They led him gently out, the white-haired, white-souled old shepherdHeber. It seemed to Joel that the wrinkled face was illuminated by someinner light, not of this world, and that he lingered among men only torepeat to them, over and over, his one story. That strange sweet storyof Bethlehem's first Christmas-tide.