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.
She lifted her face till he saw her dim eyes, perhaps for the first
time: but ye haven't been in bed, and there be dust on thy garments, and
blood upon thy hands and sleeves. Yes, Esora, my cloak is full of dust,
and the blood on my sleeve is that of a man who lies wounded in the
gardener's cottage belike to death. But thou canst cure him and wilt
keep the secret of his burial if we have to bury him in the garden. It
may be that some day I'll tell thee his story, but think now only how
thou mayst relieve his suffering. Another time thou shalt hear
everything; but now, Esora, understand nobody must know that a man is in
the gardener's cottage. It is a matter of life and death for us. I am
here to serve you, Master, and it matters not to me what his story may
be; but tell how he is wounded; are the wounds the clean wounds of the
sword or the torn wounds of rods? If he have been scourged---- A cruel
scourging it must have been, Joseph answered. Now, before we go, Esora,
understand that I shall send the two men away, one to Galilee and one to
Jericho. Better both should go to Jericho, she said. I'd trust neither
in Jerusalem. Let them go straight from here as soon as the Sabbath is
over, the journey is shorter, and they'll be as well out of the way in
one country as in the other. Esora is wiser than I, Joseph thought, and
together they shall go to Jericho, and with an important message. But to
whom? Not to Gaddi, who might come up to Jerusalem to see me. I'll send
a letter to Hazael, the Essene, and after having delivered the message
they can remain at the caravanserai in Jericho. Some excuse that will
satisfy Gaddi must be discovered, Esora. I shall find one later. Both
the men are now in bed, but if for some reason one of them should come
down to the gardener's cottage! It isn't likely, Esora answered. Not
likely, Joseph replied; but we must guard against anything. If thou
knewest the risk! I'll lock the door of the passage leading to their
rooms, and I'll do it at once. Give me the keys. She handed him the
keys, and, having locked the men in, he returned, saying: the wounded
man, whom thou'lt cure, Esora, may be here for a month or more, and till
he leaves us thou must watch the girl and see she doesn't stray through
the garden. I can manage her, Esora answered. But now about the poor man
who is waiting for attendance in the gardener's cottage. What have ye
done for him, Master? I picked from his back the splinters I could see
by the light of the lamp, and gave him some wine and water, and laid him
on a linen cloth. The old woman muttered that the drawing of the cloth
from the wound would be very painful. I dare say it will, Joseph
returned, but I knew not what else to do, and it seemed to relieve him.
Can you help him, Esora? Yes, I can; and she began telling him of her
own famous balsam, the secret of which was imparted to her by her
mother, who had it from her mother; and her great-grandmother learnt it
from an Arabian. But knowledge of the balsam went back to the Queen of
Sheba, who brought the plant to King Solomon. Thou must have seen the
bush in the garden in Galilee. It throws a white flower, like the
acacia, and the juice when drawn passes through many colours, honey
colour and then green. The Egyptians use it for many sicknesses, and it
heals wounds magically. The sweet liquor pours from cuts in the
branches, and care must be taken not to wound them too sorely. This
plant fears the sword, for it heals sword wounds, so the cuts in the
tree are best made with a sharp flint or shell, these being holier than
steel. If thou hast missed the bush in Magdala, Master, thou must have
seen it in Jericho, for I brought some seeds from Galilee to Jericho and
planted them by the gardener's cottage. Esora, all that thou tellest me
about the balsam is marvellous. I could listen to thee for hours, and
thou'lt tell me about thy grandmother and the Arabian who taught her how
to gather the juice of the plant, but we must be thinking now of my
friend's agony. Hast any of thy balsam ready, or must thou go to Jericho
for the juice?--you draw the juice from the tree? No, Master, Esora
answered him, I have here in my press a jar of the balsam, and, going to
her press, she held the jar to Joseph, who saw a white, milky liquid,
and after smelling and liking its sweet smell he said: let us go at
once. But thou mustn't hurry me, Master; I'm collecting bandages of fine
linen and getting this kettle of water to boil; for this I learnt from a
man who learnt it from the best surgeons in Rome: that freshly boiled
water holds no more the humours that make wounds fructify, and if boiled
long enough the humours fall to the bottom. I strain them off, and let
the water cool. Thou mustn't hurry me; what I do, I do well, and at my
own pace; and I'll not touch a wound with unclean things. Now I'll get
some oil. Some hold Denbalassa is best mixed with oil, but I pour oil
upon the balm after I have laid it on the wound, and by this means it
will stick less when it is removed. But is thy friend a patient man?
Wounds from scourging heal slowly; the flesh is bruised and many humours
must come away; wounds from rods are not like the clean cut of a sword,
which will heal under the balm when the edges have been brought together
carefully, so that no man can find the place. This balm will cure all
kinds of coughs, and will disperse bile as many a time I have found.
Some will wash a wound with wine and water, but I hold it heats the
blood about the wound and so increases the making of fresh humours. Now,
Master, take up the pot of water and see that ye hold it steady. I'll
carry the basket containing the oil and the balm.... It was the Queen of
Sheba who first made the balm known, because she gave it to Solomon. But
we must keep the flies from him; and while I'm getting these things go
to him and take with thee a fine linen cloth; thou'lt find some pieces
in that cupboard, and a hammer and some nails. I'm thinking there are
few flies in the gardener's cottage, half of it being underground; but
hasten and nail up the linen cloth over the window, for the first sun
ray will awaken any that are in the cottage, and, if there aren't any,
flies will come streaming in from the garden as soon as the light comes,
following the scent of blood. No, not there, a little to the right, he
heard her crying, and, finding a piece of linen and a hammer and some
nails, he went out into the greyness still undisturbed by the chirrup of
a half-awakened bird.
On either side of the shelving lawn or interspace were woods, the
remains of an ancient forest that had once covered this hillside; paths
wound sinuously through the woods, and, taking the one he had followed
overnight, he passed under sycamore boughs, through some woodland to the
terrace that he had crossed last night with a naked man on his
shoulders. And he remembered how hard it had been to keep to the path
overnight, and how fortunate it was that the gardener's cottage was not
locked, for if he had had to lay Jesus down he would never have been
able to lift him up again on to his shoulder. He had done all he could
to relieve his suffering. But Jesus, he said to himself, is lying in
agony, and if he has regained consciousness he may believe himself
buried alive. I must hasten. Yet when he arrived at the cottage he did
not enter it at once, but stood outside listening to the moans of the
wounded man within, which were good to hear in this much that they were
an assurance that he was still alive. At last he pushed the door open
and found Jesus moving his head from side to side, unable to rid himself
of a fly that was crawling about his mouth. Joseph drove it away and
gave Jesus some more weak wine and water, which seemed to soothe him,
and feeling he could do no more he sat down by the bedside to wait for
Esora. A few minutes after he heard her steps and she came into the
cottage with balsam and bandages in a basket, divining before any
examination Jesus' state. He is in a bad way; you've given him wine and
water, but he'll need something stronger, and, taking a bottle from her
basket, she lifted Jesus' head so that he might drink from it. It will
help him to bear the pain of the dressing, she said. Now, Master, will
you roll him over on to his side, so that I may see his back. The pain,
she said, looking up, when we remove this cloth on which you have laid
him will almost kill him, but we must get it off. The water with which
I'll cleanse the wound, you'll find it in that basket: it is cool enough
now to use. Take him by the wrists and pull him forward, keeping him in
a sitting position. Which Joseph did, Esora washing his back the while
and removing the splinters that Joseph missed overnight. And, taking
pleasure in her ministrations, she steeped a piece of linen in the balm,
and over the medicated linen laid a linen pad, rolling a bandage round
the chest; and the skill with which she wound it surprised Joseph and
persuaded him that the worst was over and there was no cause for further
fear, a confidence Esora did not share. He'll rest easier, she said, and
will suffer no pain at the next dressing; for the oil will prevent the
balm from sticking. We can roll him on his back now, and without asking
any question she dressed his hands and feet.
Joseph thanked her inwardly for her reticence, and he nailed up the fine
linen cloth before the window, saying: now he is secure from the flies.
But one or two have got in already, Esora answered, and one or two will
trouble the sick man as much as a hundred. We can't leave him alone;
one of us must watch by his side; for he is still delirious and knows
not yet what has befallen him nor where he is. If he were to return to
clear reason and find the door locked he might lose his reason for good
and all, and if we left the door open he might run out into the garden.
It isn't safe to leave him.
And perceiving all she said to be sound sense, Joseph took counsel with
her, and his resolve was that the two men-servants should remain in
their house till the sunset That I should send them away to Jericho on
my own horses will surprise them, he said to himself, but that can't be
altered. A long, weary day lies before us, Esora, and we shall have to
take it in turns, and neither can be away for more than two hours at a
time from the house. Matred will be asking for instructions whether she
is to feed the poultry or to kill a chicken. Though it be the Sabbath,
she'll find reasons to be about because we would have her indoors. And
when I'm watching by the sick man, Esora returned, she'll be asking:
where, Master, is Esora? Thou'lt have to invent excuses. We've forgotten
the servants, Esora. Give me the key. I must run with it and unlock the
door of the passage. Do you wait here till I return.
He hoped to find his servants asleep, and his hopes were fulfilled; and
after rousing them with vigorous reproof for their laziness, he
descended the stairs, thinking of the letter he would devise for them to
carry to Jericho. These men, Sarea and Asiel, were his peril. Once they
were away on their journey to Jericho he would feel easier. But all
these hours I shall suffer, he said. But, Master, they know the cottage
to be empty. One never can think, my good Esora, whither idle men will
be wandering, and the risk is great. Having gone so far we must have
courage, Esora answered. Now give me the key, and I'll lock myself in
with him; we'll take it in turns, and the day will not be as long
passing as you think for. It is now six o'clock, he answered: twelve
hours will have to pass away before the men start for Jericho. And then
the night will be before us, replied Esora. I hadn't thought of the
night, Joseph answered, and she reminded him that it might be days
before his friend, who had been scourged, could recover sufficiently for
him to leave. For he won't always remain here, she added. No! no! Joseph
replied, and gave her the key of the cottage, and returned to the house
to tell Sarea and Asiel that he hoped they would remain indoors during
the Sabbath, for he wished them to start for Jericho as soon as the
Sabbath was over. They shall ride my horses, he said to himself, and
bear letters that will detain them in Jericho for some weeks, and if
Jesus be not well enough to leave me, another letter will delay their
return. It can be so arranged, with a little luck on our side!
The lantern suddenly flashed into his mind. He had left it on the table
in his room and Esora would see it. But why shouldn't she see the
lantern? The centurion and the carrier and Martha and Mary all knew that
he had brought from Jerusalem a sheet in which to wrap the body of
Jesus, and a lantern to light their way into the tomb. It would be in
agreement with what he had already said to tell that he brought the
lantern back with him, nor would it have mattered if he had not returned
to the tomb to fetch the lantern. The lantern would not cast any
suspicion upon him. But he had done well to refrain from closing the
sepulchre with the stone, for the story of the resurrection would rise
out of the empty tomb, and though there were many among the Jews who
would not believe the story, few would have the courage to inquire into
the truth of a miracle.
A faint smile gathered on his lips, and he began to wonder what the
expression would be on the faces of Martha and Mary when they came to
him on the morrow with the news that Jesus had risen from the dead.