Nicodemus invited Joseph to follow Jesus, saying that at a safe distance
he would like to see him ride through the gates into the city; but
Joseph, sorely troubled in his mind, could not answer him, and an hour
later was hastening along the Jericho road, praying all the while that
he might be given strength to keep the promise he had given to his
father. But no sooner was he in Jericho than he began to feel ashamed of
himself, and after resisting the impulse to return to Jesus for two
days he yielded to it, and returned obediently the way he had come,
uncertain whether shame of his cowardice or love was bringing him back.
One or the other it must be, he said, as he came round the bend in the
road into Bethany; and it was soon after passing through that village,
somewhere about three o'clock, that he met his masons coming from Mount
Scropas. Coming from my tomb, he said to himself, and, reining up his
horse and speaking to them, he heard that his tomb was finished. We've
chiselled a great stone to be rolled into the doorway, he heard one of
the masons say; another uttered vauntingly that the stone closed the
tomb perfectly, and Joseph was about to press his horse forward when the
men called after him, and, gathering about his stirrup, they related
that Jesus of Nazareth had been tried and condemned by Pilate that
morning, and was now hanging on a cross, a-top of Golgotha, one of the
masons said: you can see him yourself, Master, if you be going that way,
and between two thieves. One of them was to have been Jesus Bar-Abba,
but the people cried out that he was to be released instead of Jesus. As
Joseph repeated the words, Bar-Abba instead of Jesus, as if he only half
understood them, the masons reminded him that it was the custom to
deliver up a prisoner to the people at the time of the Passover. At the
time of the Passover, he repeated.... At last, realising what had
happened, his face became overwrought; his eyes and mouth testified to
the grief he was suffering; and he pressed his spurs to his horse's
side, and would have been away beyond call if two of his workmen had not
seized the bridle and almost forced the horse on his haunches. Loose my
bridle, Joseph cried, astonished and beside himself. A moment with you,
Master. Be careful to speak no word in his favour, and make no show of
sympathy, else a Zealot's knife will be in your back before evening, for
they be seeking the Galileans everywhere, at the priests' bidding.
Before Joseph could break away he heard that the priests stirred up the
people against Jesus, giving it forth against him that he had come to
Jerusalem to burn down the Temple, and would set up another--built
without the help of hands, of what materials he did not know, but not
of stones nor wood, yet a Temple that will last for ever, the mason
shouted after Joseph, who had stuck his spurs again into his horse and
was riding full tilt towards a hill about half-a-mile from the city
walls. On his way thither he met some of the populace--the remnant
returning from the crucifixion--and he rode up the ascent at a gallop in
the hope that he might be in time to save Jesus' life.
He knew Pilate would grant him almost any favour he might ask; but
within fifty yards of the crosses his heart began to fail him, for,
whereas the thieves were straining their heads high in the air above the
crossbar, Jesus' head was sunk on to his chest. He died a while ago, the
centurion said, and as soon as he was dead the multitude began to
disperse, the Sabbath being at hand; and guessing Joseph to be a man of
importance, he added: if you like I'll make certain that he is dead,
and, taking his spear from one of the soldiers, he would have plunged it
into Jesus' side, but Joseph, forgetful of the warning he had received,
on no account to show sympathy with Jesus, laid his hand on the
spear-head, saying: respect the dead. As you will, the centurion
replied, and gave the spear back to the soldier, who returned to his
comrades, it being his turn to cast the dice. They have cast dice, the
centurion continued, and will divide the clothes of these men amongst
them; and, hearing the words, one of the soldiers held up the rags that
had come to him, while another spread upon the ground Jesus' fine cloak,
the one that Peter had bought for Jesus with money that Joseph gave to
him. That he should see the cloak again, and on such an occasion,
touched his heart. It was a humble incident in a cruel murder committed
by a priest; and the thought crossed Joseph's mind that he might
purchase the cloak from the soldier, but, remembering the warning he had
received, he did not ask for the cloak, nor did he once lift his eyes to
Jesus' face, lest the sight of it should wring his heart, and being
overcome and helpless with grief, the priests and their hirelings might
begin to suspect him.
He strove instead to call reason to his aid: Jesus' life being spent,
his duty was to obtain the body and bury it: far worse than the death he
endured would be for his sacred body to be thrown into the common ditch
with these malefactors. I know not how you can abide here, he said to
the centurion; their groans make the heart faint. We shall break their
bones presently; the Jews asked us to do this, for at six o'clock their
Sabbath begins. And in this the thieves are lucky, for were it not for
their Sabbath they would last on for three or four days: the first day
is the worst day; afterwards the crucified sinks into unconsciousness,
and I doubt if he suffers at all on the third day, and on the fourth day
he dies. But, Sir, what may I do for you? I've come for the body of this
man, Joseph answered; for, however erring, he was not a thief, and
deserves decent burial. You can come with me to testify that I've buried
it in a rock sepulchre, the stone of which yourself shall roll into the
door. To which the centurion answered that he did not dare to deliver up
the body of Jesus without an order from Pilate, though he was dead. Dead
an hour or more, truly dead, he added. Pilate will not refuse his body
to me, Joseph replied. Pilate and I are well acquainted; we are as
friends are; you must have seen me at the Prætorium before now, coming
to talk with the procurator about the transport of wheat from Moab, and
other things.
These words filled the centurion with admiration, and, afraid to seem
ignorant, he said he remembered having seen Joseph and knew him to be a
friend of Pilate. Well then, come with me at once to Jerusalem, Joseph
said coaxingly, and you'll see that Pilate will order thee to deliver
the dead unto me. But the centurion demurred, saying that his orders
were not to leave the gibbets. Upon my own word, Pilate will not deliver
up the body unless I bring you with me; I shall require you to testify
of the death. So come with me. The unwillingness of the centurion was
reduced to naught at the mention of a sum of money, and, giving orders
to his soldiers that nothing was to be done during his absence, he
walked beside Joseph's horse into Jerusalem, telling to Joseph as they
went the story of the arrest in the garden, the haling of Jesus before
the High Priest, and the sending of him on to Pilate, who, though
unwilling to confirm the sentence of death, was afraid of a riot, and
had yielded to the people's wish. The account of the scourging of Jesus
in the hall of the palace, and the bribing of the soldiers by the Jews
to make a mocking-stock of Jesus, was not finished when Joseph, who had
been listening without hearing, said: here is the door.
And while they waited for the door to be opened, and after the
doorkeeper had opened it, the centurion continued to tell his tale: how
a purple cloak was thrown upon the shoulders of Jesus, a reed put into
his hand, and a crown of thorns pressed upon his forehead. We wondered
how it was that he said nothing. We have come to see his worship, Joseph
interrupted; and the doorkeeper, who knew Joseph to be a friend of
Pilate, was embarrassed, for Pilate had sent down an order that he would
see no one again that day; but, like the centurion, he was amenable to
money, and consented to take in Joseph's name. There was no need to give
him money, he would not have dared to refuse Pilate's friend, the
centurion said as they waited.
Word came back quickly that Joseph was to be admitted, and after
begging Pilate to forgive him for intruding upon his privacy so late in
the day, he put his request into words, saying straight away: I have
come to ask for the body of Jesus, who was condemned to the cross at
noon. At these words Pilate's face became overcast, and he said that he
regretted that Joseph had come to ask him for something he could not
grant. It would have been pleasant to leave Jerusalem knowing that I
never refused you anything, Joseph, for you are the one Jew for whom I
have any respect, and, I may add, some affection. But why, Pilate,
cannot you give me Jesus' body? His body, is that what you ask for,
Joseph? It seemed to me that you had come to ask me to undo the sentence
that I pronounced to-day at noon. The body! Is Jesus dead then? The
centurion answered for Joseph: yes, sir; he died to-day at the ninth
hour. I put a lance into him to make sure, and blood and water came from
his side. At which statement Joseph trembled, for he was acquiescing in
a lie; but he did not dare to contradict the centurion, who was speaking
in his favour for the sake of the money he had received, and in the hope
of receiving more for the lie that he told. On the cross at noon and
dead before the ninth hour! Pilate muttered: he could but bear the cross
for three hours! After the scourging we gave him, Sir, the centurion
answered, he was so weak and feeble that we had to pass on his cross to
the shoulders of a Jew named Simon of Cyrene, who carried it to the top
of the mount for him. If he be dead there is no reason for my not giving
up the body, Pilate answered. Which I shall bury, Joseph replied, in my
own sepulchre. What, Joseph, have you already ordered your sepulchre? To
my eyes you do not look more than five or six and twenty years, and to
my eyes you look as if you would live for sixty more years at least; but
you Jews never lose sight of death, as if it were the only good. We
Romans think so too sometimes, but not so frequently as you.
And then this tall, grave, handsome man, whose face reflected a friendly
but somewhat formal soul, took Joseph by the arm and walked with him up
and down the tessellated pavement, talking in his ear, showing himself
so well disposed towards him that the centurion congratulated himself
that he had accepted Joseph's bribe. If I had only known that you were a
close friend, Pilate said to Joseph--but if I had known as much it would
only have made things more difficult for me. A remarkable man. And now,
on thinking it over, it must have been that I was well disposed to him
for that reason, for there could have been no other; for what concern of
mine is it that you Jews quarrel and would tear each other to pieces for
your various beliefs in God and his angels? So Jesus was your friend?
Tell me about him; I would know more about him than I could learn from a
brief interview with him in the Prætorium, where I took him and talked
to him alone. A brief account I pray you give me. And Joseph, who was
thinking all the while that the Sabbath was approaching, gave to Pilate
some brief account of Jesus in Galilee.
So you too, Joseph, are susceptible to this belief that the bodies of
men are raised out of the earth into heaven? I would ask you if the body
is ridded of its worms before it is carried away by angels. But I see
that you are pressed for time; the Sabbath approaches; I must not detain
you, and yet I would not let you go without telling you that it pleases
me to give his body for burial. A body deserves burial that has been
possessed by a lofty soul, for how many years, thirty? I would have
saved him if it had been possible to do so; but he gave me no chance;
his answers were brief and evasive; and he seemed to desire death;
seemingly he looked upon his death as necessary for the accomplishment
of his mission. Have I divined him right? Joseph answered that Pilate
read Jesus' soul truly, which flattered Pilate and persuaded him into
further complaint that if he had not saved Jesus it was because Jesus
would not answer him. He seemed to me like a man only conscious of his
own thoughts, Pilate said; even while speaking he seemed to rouse hardly
at all out of his dream, a delirious dream, if I may so speak, of the
world redeemed from the powers of evil and given over to the love of
God. This, however, he did say: that any power which I might have over
him came to me from above, from his Father which is in heaven, else I
could do nothing; and there was bitterness in his voice as he spoke
these words, which seemed to suggest that he was of opinion that his
Father had gone a little too far in allowing the Jews to send him to me
to condemn to death.
His Father in heaven and himself are one, and yet they differ in this.
So he was your friend, Joseph? If I had known it there would have been
an additional reason for my trying to save him from the hatred of the
Jews; for I hate the Jews, and would willingly leave them to-morrow. But
they cried out: you are not Cæsar's friend; this man would set up a new
kingdom and overthrow the Romans; and, as I have already told you,
Joseph, I asked Jesus if he claimed to be King of the Jews, but he
answered me: you have said it, adding, however, that his kingdom was not
of this world. Evasive answers of that kind are worthless when a mob is
surging round the Prætorium. A hateful crowd they looked to me; a cruel,
rapacious, vindictive crowd, with nothing in their minds but hatred. I
suspect they hated him for religious reasons. You Jews are--forgive me,
Joseph, you are an exception among your people--a bitter, intolerant
race. You would not allow me to bring the Roman eagles to Jerusalem, for
you cannot look upon graven things. All the arts you have abolished, and
your love of God resolves itself into hatred of men; so it seems to me.
It would have pleased me very well indeed to have thwarted the Jews in
their desire for this man's life, but I was threatened by a revolt, and
the soldiers at my command are but auxiliaries, and not in sufficient
numbers to quell a substantial riot. I will tell you more: if the legion
that I was promised had arrived from Cæsarea the lust of the Jews for
the blood of those that disagree with them would not have been
satisfied. I went so far as to send messengers to inquire for the
legion. But the man is dead now, and further talking will not raise him
into life again. You have come to ask me for his body, and you would
bury it in your own tomb. It is like you, Joseph, to wish to honour your
dead friend. Methinks you are more Roman than Jew. Say not so in the
hearing of my countrymen, Joseph replied, or I may meet my death for
your good opinion.
The Sabbath is now approaching, and you'll forgive me if I indulge in no
further words of thanks, Pilate. I may not delay, lest the hour should
come upon me after which no work can be done. Not that I hold with such
strict observances. A good work done upon the Sabbath must be viewed
more favourably by God than a bad work done on another day of the week.
But I would not have it said that I violated the Sabbath to bury Jesus.
As you will, my good Joseph, Pilate said, and stood looking after Joseph
and the centurion, who, as they drew near to the gate of the city,
remembered that a sheet would be wanted to wrap the body in. Joseph
answered the centurion that there was no time for delay, but the
centurion replied: in yon shop sheets are sold. Moreover, you will want
a lantern, Sir, for the lifting of the body from the cross will take
some time, and the carrying of it to the tomb will be a slow journey for
you though you get help, and the day will be gone when you arrive. You
had better buy a lantern, Sir. Joseph did as he was bidden, and they
hurried on to Golgotha.
Nothing has been done in my absence? the centurion asked the soldiers,
who answered: nothing, Sir; and none has been here but these women, whom
we did not drive away, but told that you were gone with one Joseph of
Arimathea to get an order from Pilate for the body. That was well, the
centurion answered. And now do you loose the cords that bind the hands,
and get the dead man down. Which was easy to accomplish, the feet of the
crucified being no more than a few inches from the ground; and while
this was being done Joseph told the centurion that the women were the
sisters of Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead; a story that
set the Roman soldiers laughing. Can a man be raised from the dead? they
asked; and if this man could do such a thing how is it that he did not
raise himself out of death into life? To which neither Joseph nor the
two women made any answer, but stood, their eyes fixed on their
thoughts, asking themselves how they were to carry Jesus to the
sepulchre, distant about a mile and a half. And it not seeming to them
that they could carry the body, the centurion offered Joseph the help of
one of his soldiers, which they would have accepted, but at that moment
an ox-cart was perceived hastening home in the dusk. Joseph, going after
the carrier, offered him money if he would bring the body of one of the
crucified to the sepulchre in Mount Scropas for him. To which the
carrier consented, though he was not certain that the job might not
prevent him from getting home before the Sabbath began. But he would see
what could be done.
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.