Chapter 21

Jesus was laid on the ox-cart, and Mary, Martha and Joseph following it reached Mount Scropas, in which was the tomb, before sunset. As I told thee with half-an-hour for thee to get home before the Sabbath, Joseph said to the carrier, his eyes fixed on the descending sun. Now take this man by the feet and I'll take him by the head. But will you not light the lantern, Sir? the carrier said; for though there be light on the hillside, it will be night in the tomb, and we shall be jostling our heads against the stone and perhaps falling over the dead man.... I have steel and tinder. Wherefrom the lantern was lit and given to Martha, who lighted them into the tomb, Joseph and the carrier bearing the body, with Mary following.

Jesus was laid on the couch beneath the arch, and when Mary and Martha had drawn the sheet over his face Joseph turned to the women, saying: now do you go hence to Bethany and prepare spices and cloths for the embalmment, and come hither with them in the early morning the day after the Sabbath. The carrier, who was standing by waiting for his wage, received it thankfully. Now, Master, if you want another shoulder to help with that sealing stone, I can give it you. But Joseph, looking at the stone, said it would offer no trouble to him, for he believed in his strength to do it, though the carrier said: it looks as if two men, or more like three, would be needed. But it is as you like, Master. On this he went to his oxen, thinking of the Sabbath, and whether Joseph had forgotten how near it was to them. He hasn't blown out his lantern yet. My word, he be going back into the tomb, the carrier said; maybe he's forgotten something, or maybe to have a last look at his friend. He talks like one in a dream, or one that hadn't half recovered his wits.

And it was just in the mood which the carrier divined that Joseph entered the tomb: life had been coming and going like a dream ever since he met the masons; and asking himself if he were truly awake and in his seven senses, he returned to bid Jesus a last farewell, though he would not have been astonished if he sought him in vain through the darkness filled with the dust of freshly cut stones and the smell thereof. But Jesus was where they had laid him; and Joseph sate himself by the dead Master's side, so that he might meditate and come to see better into the meanings of things, for all meaning seemed to have gone out of life for him since he had come up from Jericho. The flickering shadows and lights distracted his meditation, and set him thinking of the masons and their pride in their work; he looked round the sepulchre and perceived it to be a small chamber with a couch at the farther end.... Martha and Mary have gone, he said to himself, and he remembered he had bidden them go hence to prepare spices, and to return after the Sabbath. Which they will do as soon as the Sabbath is over, he repeated to himself, as if to convince himself that he was not dreaming.... God did not save him in the end as he expected he would, he continued: he'd have done better to have given Pilate answers whereby Pilate would have been able to save him from the cross. Pilate was anxious to save him, but, as Nicodemus said, Jesus had come to think that it had been decreed in heaven that his blood must be spilt, so that he might rise again, as it were, out of his own blood, to return in a chariot with his Father in three days.... But will he return to inhabit again this beautiful mould? Joseph asked, and striving against the doubt that the sight of the dead put into his mind, he left the tomb with the intention of rolling the stone into the door. Better not to see him than to doubt him, he said. But who will, he asked himself, roll away the stone for Martha and Mary when they come with spices and fine linen for the embalming? His mind was divided whether he should close the tomb and go his way, or watch through the Sabbath, and while seeking to come upon a resolve he was overcome by desire to see his dead friend once more, and he entered the tomb, holding high the lantern so that he might better see him. But as he approached the couch on which the body lay he stopped, and the colour went out of his face; he trembled all over; for the sheet with which Martha and Mary covered over the face had fallen away, and a long tress of hair had dropped across the cheek. He must have moved, or angels must have moved him, and, uncertain whether Jesus was alive or dead, Joseph remembered Lazarus, and stood watching, cold and frightened, waiting for some movement.

He is not dead, he is not dead, he cried, and his joy died, for on the instant Jesus passed again into the darkness of swoon. Joseph had no water to bathe his forehead with, nor even a drop to wet his lips with. There is none nearer than my house, he said. I shall have to carry him thither. But if a wayfarer meets us the news that a man newly risen from the tomb was seen on the hillside with another will soon reach Jerusalem; and the Pharisees will send soldiers.... The tomb will be violated; the houses in the neighbourhood will be searched. Why then did he awaken only to be taken again? Jesus lay as still as the dead, and hope came again to Joseph. On a Sabbath evening, he said, I shall be able to carry him to my house secretly. The distance is about half-a-mile. But to carry a swooning man half-a-mile up a crooked and steep path among rocks will take all my strength.

He took cognisance of his thews and sinews, and feeling them to be strong and like iron, he said: I can do it, and fell to thinking of his servants loitering in the passages, talking as they ascended the stairs, stopping half-way and talking again, and getting to bed slowly, more slowly than ever on this night, the night of all others that he wished them sound asleep in their beds. Half-a-mile up a zigzagging path I shall have to carry him; he may die in my arms; and he entertained the thought for a moment that he might go for his servants, who would bring with them oil and wine; but dismissing the thought as unwise, he left the tomb to see if the darkness were thick enough to shelter himself and his burden.

But Jesus might pass away in his swoon. If he had some water to give him. But he had none, and he sat by the couch waiting for Jesus to open his eyes. At last he opened them.

The twilight had vanished and the stars were coming out, and Joseph said to himself: there will be no moon, only a soft starlight, and he stood gazing at the desert showing through a great tide of blue shadow, the shape of the hills emerging, like the hulls of great ships afloat in a shadowy sea. A dark, close, dusty night, he said, and moonless, deserted by every man and woman; a Sabbath night. On none other would it be possible. But thinking that some hours would have to pass before he dared to enter his gates with Jesus on his shoulder, he seated himself on the great stone. Though Jesus were to die for lack of succour he must wait till his servants were in bed asleep. And then? The stone on which he was sitting must be rolled into the entrance of the tomb before leaving. He had told the carrier that he would have no trouble with it, and to discover that he had not boasted he slid down the rock, and, putting his shoulder to it, found he could move it, for the ground was aslant, and if he were to remove some rubble the stone would itself roll into the entrance of the tomb. But he hadn't known this when he refused the carrier's help. Then why?... To pass away the time he fell to thinking that he had refused the carrier's aid because of some thought of which he wasn't very conscious at the time; that he had been appointed watcher, and that his watch extended through the night, and through the next day and night, until Mary and Martha came with spices and linen cloths.

The cycle of his thoughts was brought to a close and with a sudden jerk by some memory of his maybe dying friend; and in his grief he found no better solace than to gaze at the stars, now thickly sown in the sky, and to attempt to decipher their conjunctions and oppositions, trying to pick out a prophecy in heaven of what was happening on earth.

His star-gazing was interrupted suddenly by a bark. A jackal, he said. Other jackals answered the first bark; the hillside seemed to be filled with them; but, however numerous, he could scare them away; a wandering hyena scenting a dead body would be more dangerous, for he was weaponless. But it was seldom that one ventured into the environs of the city; and he listened to the jackals, and they kept him awake till something in the air told him the hour had come for him to go into the tomb and carry Jesus out of it ... if he were not dead. He slid down from the rock again, and no sooner did he reach the ground than he remembered having left Galilee to keep his promise to his father; but, despite his obedience to his father's will, had not escaped his fate. In vain he avoided the Temple and refused to enter the house of Simon the Leper.... If he were to take Jesus to his house and hide him he would become a party to Jesus' crime, and were Jesus discovered in his house the angry Pharisees would demand their death from Pilate. If he would escape the doom of the cross he must roll the stone up into the entrance of the sepulchre.... A dying man perceives no difference between a sepulchre and a dwelling-house. He would be dead before morning; before the Sabbath was done for certain; and Mary and Martha would begin the embalmment on Sunday. He would be dead certainly on Sunday morning, and dead men tell no tales, so they say. But do they say truly? The dead are voiceless, but they speak, and are closer to us than the living; and for ever the spectre of that man would be by him, making frightful every hour of his life. Yet by closing up the sepulchre and leaving Jesus to die in it he would be serving him better than by carrying him to his house and bringing him back to life. To what life was he bringing him? He could not be kept hidden for long; he could not remain in Jerusalem, and whither Jesus went Joseph would follow, and his bond to his father would be broken then in spirit as well as in fact. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and for a long time his mind seemed like a broken thing and the pieces scattered; and as much exhausted as if he had carried Jesus a mile on his shoulders, he stooped forward and entered the tomb, without certain knowledge whether he was going to kiss Jesus and close the tomb upon him or carry him to his house about a half-an-hour distant.

As he drew the cere-cloths from the body, a vision of his house rose up in his mind--a large two-storeyed house with a domed roof, situated on a large vineyard on the eastern slopes of the Mount of Olives, screened from the highway by hedges of carob, olive garths and cedars. And this house seemed to Joseph as if designed by Providence for the concealment of Jesus. The only way, he muttered, will be to lift him upon my shoulders, getting the weight as far as I can from off my arms. If he could walk a little supported on my arm. He questioned Jesus, but Jesus could not answer him; and there seemed to be no other way but to carry him in his arms out of the tomb, place him on the rock, and from thence hoist him on to his shoulders.

Jesus was carried more easily than he thought for, as easily carried as a child for the first hundred yards, nor did he weigh much heavier for the next, but before three hundred yards were over Joseph began to look round for a rock against which he might rest his burden.

One of the hardships of this journey was that howsoever he held Jesus he seemed to cause him great pain, and he guessed by the feel that the body was wounded in many places; but the stars did not show sufficient light for him to see where not to grasp it, and he sat in the pathway, resting Jesus across his knees, thinking of a large rock within sight of his own gates and how he would lean Jesus against it, if he managed to carry him so far. He stopped at sight of something, something seemed to slink through the pale, diffused shadows in and out of the rocks up the hillside, and Joseph thought of a midnight wolf. The wolves did not venture as near the city, but--Whatever Joseph saw with his eyes, or fancied he saw, did not appear again, and he picked up his load, thinking of the hopeless struggle it would be between him and a grey wolf burdened as he was. He could not do else than leave Jesus to be eaten, and his fear of wolf and hyena so exhausted him that he nearly toppled at the next halt. A fall would be fatal to Jesus, and Joseph asked himself how he would lift Jesus on to his shoulder again. He did not think that he could manage it, but he did, and staggered to the gates; but no sooner had he laid his burden down than he remembered that he could not ascend the stairs without noise. The gardener's cottage is empty; I will carry him thither. The very place, Joseph said, as he paused for breath by the gate-post. I must send away the two men-servants, he continued, one to Galilee and the other to Jericho. The truth cannot be kept from Esora. I need her help: I can depend upon her to cure Jesus of his wounds and keep the young girl in the house, forbidding her the garden while Jesus is in the cottage. The danger of dismissal would be too great, she would carry the story or part of it to Jerusalem, it would spread like oil, and in a few days, in a few weeks certainly, the Pharisees would be sending their agents to search the house. With Jesus hoisted on to his shoulder he followed the path through the trees round the shelving lawn and crossed the terrace at the bottom of the garden. He had then to follow a twisting path through a little wood, and he feared to bump Jesus against the trees. The path led down into a dell, and he could hardly bear up so steep was the ascent; his breath and strength were gone when he came to the cottage door.

Fortune seems to be with us, he said, as he carried Jesus through the doorway, but he must have a bed, and fortune is still with us, they haven't removed the bed; and as soon as Jesus was laid upon it he began to remember many things. He must go to the house and get a lamp, and in the house he remembered that he must bring some wine and some water. He noticed that his hand and his sleeve were stained with blood. He must have been badly scourged, he said, and continued his search for bottles, and after mixing wine and water he returned to the gardener's cottage, hoping that casual ministrations would relieve Jesus of some of the pain he was suffering till Esora would come with her more serious remedies in the morning.

He put the lamp on a chair on the opposite side of the bed and turned Jesus over and began to pick out of the wounds the splinters of the rods he had been beaten with, and after binding up the back with a linen cloth he drew Jesus' head forward and managed to get him to swallow a little wine and water. I can do no more, he said, and must leave him.... It will be better to lock the door; he must bide there till I hear Esora on the stairs coming down from her room. She is always out of bed first, and if luck is still with us she will rise early this morning.

He tried to check his thoughts, but they ran on till he remembered that he must fetch the lantern forgotten among the rocks, and that he should follow the twisting path up and down the hillside seemed more than he could accomplish. Strength and will seemed to have departed from him; yet he must go back to fetch the lantern. He had left it lighted, and some curious person might be led by the light ... the open sepulchre would attract his eye, and he might take up the light and discover the tomb to be empty. It wasn't likely, but some such curious one might be on the prowl. Now was the only safe time to fetch the lantern. He daren't leave it.... At the first light Mary and Martha would be at the sepulchre, and the finding of a lantern by the door of the empty sepulchre would give rise to--

He passed through his gates, locking them after him, too weary to think further what might and might not befall.

CHAP. XIX.

And when he returned with the lantern he had forgotten he threw himself on his bed, remembering that he must not sleep, for to miss Esora as she came downstairs would mean to leave Jesus in pain longer than he need be left. But sleep closed his eyelids. Sleep! He did not know if he had slept. The room was still quite dark, and Esora did not come down till dawn; and, sitting up in his bed, he said: God saved him from death, or raised him out of death, but he has not raised him yet into heaven. He is in the gardener's cottage! If only Esora can cure him of his wounds, he continued, he and I might live together in this garden happily.

He closed his eyes so that he might enjoy his dream of Jesus' companionship, but fell into a deeper sleep, from which he was awakened by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It is Esora trying to descend without awakening me, he said. But nobody was on the stairs, and he stood listening on the landing, asking himself if Esora was at work so early. And then it seemed to him that he could hear somebody in her pantry.... To make sure he descended and found her before her table brushing the clothes he had thrown off. You must have been in my room and picked up my clothes without my hearing you, he said; it was not till you were on the second flight of stairs that I awoke. I didn't know that you rose so early, Esora. It is still dusk. And if I didn't, Master, I don't know how the work would get done. But the Sabbath, Joseph rejoined; and incontinently began to discuss the observances of the Sabbath with her. But even on the Sabbath there is work to be done, she answered; your clothes--a nice state you brought them home in, and if they were not cleaned for you, you could not present yourself in the synagogue to-day. But, Esora, Joseph answered faintly, I don't see why you should be up and at work at this hour and that girl, Matred, still asleep. Does she never help you in your work? Esora muttered something that Joseph did not hear, and in answer to his question why she did not rouse Matred from her bed she said that the young require more sleep than the old; an answer that surprised Joseph, for he had never been able to rid himself of his first impression of Esora. He remembered when he was a child how he hated her long nose, her long yellow neck and her doleful voice always crying out against somebody, her son, her kitchen-maid, or Joseph himself. She used to turn him out of her kitchen and larder and dairy, saying that his place was upstairs, and once raised her hand to him; later she had complained to his father of his thefts; for he brought his dogs with him and stole the larder key and cut off pieces of meat for them, and very often dipped jars into the pans of milk that were standing for cream. His father reproved him, and from that day he hated Esora, casting names at her, and playing many pranks upon her until the day he tipped a kettle of boiling water over his foot while running to scald the wasps in their nest--one of the apes was stung; it was to avenge the sting he was running, and no one had known how to relieve his suffering; his father had gone away for the doctor, but Esora, as soon as she heard what had happened, came with her balsam, and it subdued the pain almost miraculously.

After his scalding Joseph brought all his troubles to her to be cured, confiding to her care coughs, colds, and cut fingers; and, as she never failed to relieve his pain, whatever it was, he began to look upon her with respect and admiration. All the same something of his original dislike remained. He disliked her while he admired her, and his suspicion was that she loved him more for his father's sake than for his own---- It was his father who sent her from Galilee to look after him. There was no fault to find with her management, but he could not rid his mind of the belief that she was a hard task-mistress, and often fell to pitying the servants under her supervision, yet here she was up at five while Matred lay drowsing. This testimony of her kind heart was agreeable to him, for he had need of all her kindness and sympathy that morning--only with her help could Jesus be cured of his wounds and the story of his escape from the cross he kept a secret. He was in her hands, and, confident of her loyalty to him, he told her that he had left his door open because he wished to speak to her before the others were out of bed.