Jesus fell back into sleep as soon as the lamb was fed, and it was in
this second sleep of more than six hours that he regained his natural
strength. Has Joseph returned? he asked on awakening, and the brother
nearest him answered that he had not; whereupon Jesus asked that Hazael
should come to him, and he said to him: Hazael, Joseph told thee that as
soon as his business was transacted in Jericho he would return hither,
and if that were not possible the delay would not be long. But four days
have passed and we haven't seen him nor have we news of him. Now how is
this? He couldn't have heard in Jericho nor in Jerusalem of my faring
among the hills of Cæsarea in search of a lamb. It was only on those
hills that I might find a lamb that would recover for us the strength
that has gone out of the flock. And I would that Joseph were here to see
him that I've brought back. My heart misgives me. Thou'lt feed him in my
absence, he said to one of the brethren, and I'll go down on to the
terraces and wander across the bridge, for on the hills over yonder I
may catch sight of Joseph coming to meet me. Can none tell me if he will
come from Jericho or Jerusalem? A brother cried that he would feed the
lamb as Jesus directed, and the brethren at work among the fig-trees
spoke to each other of the grief visible on Jesus' face as he passed
them and questioned each other and sought a reason for it. Has the lamb
fallen sick? one asked, and on that thought they ran up the terraces to
inquire for the lamb, who, that day, had been given the name of Cæsar.
The lamb sleeps in peace, Hazael answered, but Jesus, his saviour, has
gone out in great disorder of mind to get tidings of Joseph, the great
trader in figs and dates. He promised to return the same evening after
transacting his business in Jericho, Hazael continued. Four days have
passed away without news of him; some misfortune may have befallen him.
May have! Hazael repeated under his breath as he walked away. _Has_
befallen him without doubt.
The brethren waited for Jesus to return, but he did not return to them;
and at nightfall a watch was set at the bridge head, and the same was
done for many succeeding days, till the story reached the Brook Kerith
that Joseph had been killed in the streets of Jerusalem by order of the
Zealots. Priests never forget to revenge themselves on those that do not
submit to their ideas and exactions, Hazael muttered, thereby stirring
the curiosity of the brethren; but he could not tell them more, Joseph's
relation having been insufficient to make plain the truth that Joseph,
as Jesus' friend, must have earned the High Priest's displeasure. A very
little suspicion, he said to himself, is enough to bring about the death
of a man in our days; and the priests were always jealous and afraid of
prophets. Is then our Jesus a prophet? Saddoc asked, and Manahem's eyes
were full of questions. I can tell ye no more than I've said already,
Hazael answered, and the brethren forgot their curiosity, for their
hearts were stirred with pity. A great grief it surely will be, they
said to one another, when Jesus returns and hears that his friend is
dead, and they asked which among them should be the one to tell him of
this great loss that had befallen him. Not I, said one, nor I, another
answered, and as they passed into their cells it was the opinion of all
that Hazael should tell him.
Next morning when they came forth from their cells, after giving thanks
for the returning light, they stood on the hillside, hoping that every
minute would bring them sight of Jesus returning. At last a shepherd
came through the dusk, but it was not Jesus but Amos coming towards
them, and the news he brought was that he had met Jesus on the hills
wandering like one of disordered mind. He has taken my sheep from me and
has lost them, I fear. But why, the brethren cried, didst thou leave thy
sheep to him? To which Amos could make no straightforward answer: all he
knew was that he had met Jesus and been greatly frightened by his speech
and his show of gestures and demeanour. All the same, he said, I felt I
had better let him have the sheep. And the brethren said: ruin has
befallen us this time. We know the reason of the disordered mind that
thou tellest of. Joseph was slain by the Zealots in Jerusalem by order
of the priests, and the tidings must have come to Jesus as he wandered
out on to the hills seeking his friend, and it was they that robbed him
of his mind. We are ruined, the brethren cried, for our sheep are with
him, and he without thought for anything but his grief. Amos could not
answer them nay, for their words seemed to him but the truth, and they
all returned to the cenoby to mourn for Jesus and themselves till Jesus
was brought back to them by some shepherds who found him wandering,
giving no heed to the few sheep that followed him; only a few had
escaped the wolves, and the brethren charged Amos with the remnant,
muttering among themselves: his heart is broken. He is without knowledge
of us or the world around him. But why does he turn aside from our
dwelling preferring to lie with his dogs under the rocks? It is for that
our dwelling reminds him of Joseph. It was here he saw him last, Manahem
replied. It will be well to leave him to wander at will, giving him food
if his grief allows him to come for it; any restraint would estrange him
from us, nor may we watch him, for when the mind is away man is but
animal; and animals do not like watchful eyes. We may only watch over
him lest he do himself bodily harm, Eleazar said, There is no harm,
Manahem said, he can do himself, but to walk over the cliffs in a dream
and so end his misery. We would not that the crows and vultures fed on
Jesus, Caleb answered. We must watch lest he fall into the dream of his
grief.... But he lives in one. Behold him now. He sees not the cliffs
over yonder nor the cliffs beneath. Nor does he hear the brook murmur
under the cliffs. Grief is a wonderful thing, Manahem said, it
overpowers a man more than anything else; it is more powerful even than
the love of God, but it wears away; and in this it is unlike the love of
God, which doesn't change, and many of us have come here so that we may
love God the better without interruptions. It is strange, Eleazar said,
that one who loves God as truly as Jesus, should abandon himself to
grief. Eleazar's words caused the Essenes to drop into reveries and
dreams, and when they spoke out of these their words were: his grief is
more like despair. And in speaking these words they were nearer the
truth than they suspected, for though Jesus grieved and truly for
Joseph, there was in his heart something more than mortal grief.
It often seemed to him as he sat gazing across the abyss that his
temerity in proclaiming himself the Messiah was punished enough by
crucifixion: the taking from him of the one thing that crucifixion had
left behind often put the thought into his mind that God held him
accursed; and in his despair he lost faith in death, believing he would
be held accursed for all eternity. He forgot to take food and drink; he
fed upon his grief and would have faded out of life if Cæsar had not
conceived a dislike to his keeper and run bleating among the rocks till
he came upon Jesus whom he recognised at once and refused to leave,
thrusting a nozzle into Jesus' hand and lying down by his side. Nor
could the brethren beguile the lamb from Jesus with milk, and Jesus
taking pity on the faithful animal said: give me the feeding bottle, I
will feed him. Whereupon Cæsar began to bleat, and so cheerfully, that
all conceived a new affection for him, but he had none for anybody but
Jesus, whom he followed about the cliffs as a dog might, lying down at
his side.
The twain strayed together whither there was scarce foothold for either,
and the brethren said as they watched them: if Cæsar were to miss his
footing and fall over the edge, the last link would be broken and Jesus
would go over after him. But sheep and goats never miss their footing, a
brother answered. It is fortunate, another replied, that Cæsar should
have attached himself to Jesus. He seems to say, I get happier and
happier every day, and his disposition will react on Jesus and may win
him out of his melancholy.
And it seemed as if the brother had guessed rightly, for though Jesus'
face showed no interest in the brethren, nor in the cenoby, he seemed to
enjoy the sympathy of the dumb animal. He liked to call to Cæsar and to
lay his hand upon Cæsar's head, and to look into his eyes, and in those
moments of sympathy the brethren said: he forgets his grief. But Cæsar
is coming into ramhood, Saddoc answered, and will have to go away with
the flock. There were brethren who cried out against this: let the flock
perish rather than Jesus should be deprived of Cæsar. Wouldst have him
remain when he is a great ram? Manahem asked, and the others answered:
yes, for Jesus takes no thought for anything but Cæsar, and the
brethren conferred together, and spent much thought in trying to
discover a remedy other than Cæsar for Jesus' grief.
But one day Jesus said to the brethren: Cæsar is coming into ramhood,
and I must take him away to the hills, he must come with me and join the
ewes. Art thou going to be our shepherd again? said they. If ye will
entrust the flock to me. My thoughts will never wander from it again.
Jesus spoke the words significantly, and many of the brethren believed
that he would prove himself to be the great shepherd that he was of
yore, but others said: his grief will break out upon him on the hills;
but these counsels were overruled by Manahem and Saddoc. Jesus, Saddoc
said, never smiles and his words are few, but he is himself again, and
the best shepherd that ever walked these hills is worse than he, so it
is said. He lost a few sheep, Manahem said, in the first days of his
great grief, but his mind is altogether now on the encouragement of the
flock and Amos is wearied of it and would return to the reading of the
Scriptures. Thou speakest well, Manahem, Saddoc returned, for it was in
his mind as it was in Manahem's that the sight of men and the sound of
men's voices were a torture to Jesus, and that he longed for solitude
and silence and the occupation of the flock.
The cenoby will never be the same again without our pet, some of the
brethren cried, but others said: it must be so. We'll go to see Cæsar's
lambs, they cried, as he was being led away. There will be no lambs by
Cæsar this spring, Jesus answered. He'll run with the ewes and that's
about all; for a ram is not fit for service till he is two years old.
Whereupon the distraction of Jesus' grief being removed from the
cenoby, the Essenes fell to talking again of the great schism and what
came of it. Are our brothers happier in wedlock than we are in celibacy?
was the question they often put to each other on the balcony; and a
sudden meeting of thoughts set them comparing the wives beyond Jordan
with the ewes of the hills. Which are the most fruitful? they asked
themselves; and it was averred that though twin lambs were of equal
worth, it might fall out in the strange destinies that beset human life
that one of human twins might be a robber and the other a devout Essene.
On a balcony overhanging an abyss some hundred feet in depth, through
which a brook sings a monotonous song, men may dream a long while on the
problem of destiny, and on awaking from their different meditations it
was natural that they should speak about the difficulties the brethren
by the lake would experience when they set themselves to discover women
who would accept the rule of life of the Essenes and for no enjoyment
for themselves, but that the order might not perish, and with it
holiness pass out of the world.
Of what women will they possess themselves? a brother often asked. Not
Jewish women, who would prefer to join themselves with Pharisees or
Sadducees rather than with Essenes, and the converts, the brother
continued, that might be made among the Gentile women from Mesopotamia
and Arabia could not be counted upon to produce pious children, though
the fathers that begot the children might be themselves of great piety.
These words put the thought into another brother's mind, that a woman
is never faithful to one man, an abiding doctrine among the Essenes: and
the group of three, Caleb, Eleazar and Benjamin, began to speak of the
stirs and quarrels that these converts would provoke in the cenoby. For
even amongst those who have renounced women, there are always a few that
retain a longing for women in their heart, and the smouldering embers
will burst into flame at the sight of woman. Is not that so, Benjamin?
There is much truth in thy words, Caleb, Benjamin answered, and I would
know if they partition off the women into an enclosure by themselves,
and only take them out at a time judged to be the fruitfullest, for it
is not lawful for us to experience pleasure, and as soon as the women
are with child, the brethren we have left behind, I trust, withdraw from
the company of their wives. Unless, said Eleazar, all the rules of our
order be abolished. We did well to leave them, Caleb answered. And then,
posing his small fat hands on the parapet, he said: women have ever been
looked upon as man's pleasure, and our pleasures are as wolves, and our
virtues are as sheep, and as soon as pleasure breaks into the fold the
sheep are torn and mangled. We're better here with our virtues than they
by the lake with their pleasures.
Trouble has begun amongst them already, Eleazar said, and Benjamin
turned to ask him if he had gotten news of the brethren by the lake; and
he answered that yesterday a shepherd told him that many brothers had
left the settlement. We did well, Caleb said, to cherish our celibacy,
and the price of living on this rock was not too high a price for it.
But tell us what thou hast heard, Eleazar. Eleazar had heard that
troubles were begun, but he hoped children would bring peace to all. But
all women aren't fruitful, Caleb said, and Benjamin was vexed with
Eleazar because he hadn't asked how many women were already quick. And
they fell to talking scandal, putting forward reasons why some of the
brethren should separate themselves from their wives.
Perhaps we shall never know the why and the wherefore, Eleazar said, it
being against our rules to absent ourselves without permission from the
cenoby, and if we were to break this rule, Hazael might refuse to
receive us again. We should wander on the hills seeking grass and roots,
for our oaths are that we take no food from strangers. Yet I'd give much
to hear how our brethren, for they are our brethren, fare with their
wives.
And when they met on the balcony, the elder members of the community,
Hazael, Mathias, Saddoc and Manahem, like the younger members conferred
together as to whether any good could come to those that had taken wives
to themselves for their pleasure. Not for their pleasure, Hazael said,
but that holiness may not pass out of the world for ever. But as
holiness, Mathias was moved to remark, is of the mind, it cannot be
affected by any custom we might impose upon our corporeal nature.
Whereupon a disputation began in which Manahem urged upon Mathias that
if he had made himself plain it would seem that his belief was that
holiness was not dependent upon our acts; and if that be so, he asked,
why do we live on this ledge of rock? To which question Mathias
answered that the man whose mind is in order need not fear that he will
fall into sin, for sin is but a disorder of the mind.
A debate followed regarding the relation of the mind to the body and of
the body to the mind, and when all four were wearied of the old
discussion, Saddoc said: is it right that we should concern ourselves
with these things, asking which of the brothers have taken wives, and
how they behave themselves to their wives? It seems to me that Saddoc is
right, these matters don't concern us who have no wives and who never
will have. But, said Manahem, though this question has been decided so
far as our bodies are concerned, are we not justified in considering
marriage as philosophers may, no subject being alien to philosophy? Is
not that so, Mathias? No subject is alien to philosophy, Mathias agreed,
to which Saddoc replied: we could discuss this matter with profit if we
knew which of the brothers had taken to himself a wife; but only rumours
reach us here; and the brethren looked across the chasm, their thoughts
crossing it easily and passing over the intervening hills down into the
plains and over Jordan. We should no doubt be content, said Manahem,
with our own beliefs, and abide in the choice that we have made without
questioning it further, as Hazael has said. Yet it is hard to keep
thoughts of the brethren we have left out of our minds. How are we,
Hazael, to remain unmoved when rumours touching on the lives of those we
have left behind reach us? Is it not merely natural that we should
desire to hear how our brethren fare in married life? Dost think,
Hazael, that those we left behind never ask each other how we fare in
our celibacy? Man is the same all the world over inasmuch as he would
like to hear he has avoided the pitfall his brother has fallen into. It
is said, Manahem continued, that the elders yonder are disturbed now as
to whether they too should take wives, though in the great disputation
that we took part in, it was decided that marriage should be left to the
younger and more fruitful. Wherefore, if it is said that trouble has
come, Hazael answered, we should be sorry for our weak brethren, and if
stories reach us, he continued, we should receive them with modesty: we
should not go out to seek stories of the misfortunes of those who have
not been as wise as we, and of all we should not wish to go down to
Jordan to inquire out the truth of these stories; Caleb and Benjamin ask
betimes for leave to visit them. Eleazar, too, has asked; but I have
refused them always, knowing well whither their curiosity would lead
them. Lest, Mathias interposed, they bring back the spirit and sense of
women with them.
A flock of doves crossing over the chasm on quick wings put an end to
the discourse, and as no more stories reached them who dwelt in the
cavern above the Brook Kerith regarding the behaviour of the wives to
their husbands and of the husbands towards their wives, the thoughts of
the younger brethren reverted to Cæsar, and to the admiration of the
ewes for his beauty. A year later, when Jesus came down from the hills,
he was met with cries of: how fares it with Cæsar? Does he tire on the
hills? When will the ewes begin to drop their lambs? A buzz of talk
began at once in the cenoby when the news arrived that Cæsar's lambs
were appearing, but the brethren could not conceal their disappointment
that they should look like the lambs they had seen before. We expected
the finest lambs ever seen on these hills, they said, and thou hast no
more word to say in praise of them than that they are good lambs. Jesus
answered that in two months he would be better able to judge Cæsar's
lambs, and to choose amongst them some two or three that would continue
the flock worthily. Which? the brethren asked, but Jesus said a choice
would be but guess-work at present, none could pick out the making of a
good ram till past the second month. Caleb marked one which he was sure
would be chosen later, and Benjamin another, and Eleazar another; but
when the time came for Jesus to choose, it was none of these that he
chose, and on hearing of their mistakes, the brethren were disappointed,
and thought no more of the flock, asking only casually for Cæsar, and
forgetting to mourn his decease at the end of the fourth year; his
successor coming to them without romantic story, the brethren were from
henceforth satisfied to hear from time to time that the hills were free
from robbers; that the shepherds had banded together in great wolf
hunts; and that freed from their natural enemies, the wolves and
robbers, the flock had increased in numbers beyond the memory of the
oldest shepherd on the hills.