aIam going,a said the Abbot, and his voice suddenly seemed to come from beyond the other sh.o.r.e, aIam going! Didnat you see the seven flames lurch and draw away from their wicks? Didnat you hear the nine strings of the harp vibrate madly, ready to snap? Iam going, John. Run and call the monks. I want to speak to them.a The boy bowed his head and disappeared. The Abbot remained standing in the middle of the cell under the seven-branched candelabrum. Now at last he was alone with G.o.d: he could speak his mind freely, with no fear of being overheard. He lifted his head calmly; he knew that G.o.d stood before him.

aIam coming, Iam coming,a he said to him. aWhy do you enter my cell, why do you try to put out the light, shatter the harp and capture me? Iam coming, and not only of your will, but of my own. Iam coming. I hold in my hands the tables on which the complaints of my people are written. I want to see you and speak to you. I know you donat listen or at least pretend you donat listen, but I shall bang on your door until you open, and if you donat open (n.o.bodyas here now to hear me, so Iall speak freely), if you donat open your door, I shall break it down! Youare fierce, you love fierce peoplea"they alone you name your sons. Until now we have wept, prostrated ourselves and said, Your will be done! But we cannot last any longer, Lord. How long are we going to wait? You are fierce, you love fierce peoplea"we shall become fierce. Our wills be done nowa"ours!a As the Abbot spoke he kept his ear tensed so that he could hear whatever was in the air. But the rain had abated, the thunder had retreated into the distancea"the claps were m.u.f.fled and came from the east, far away over the desert. The seven flames burned steadily above the old manas white head.

The Abbot waited in silence. He waited a considerable time for the flames to waver again, for the harp to quiver once more with fright. ... Nothing! He shook his head. aThe body of man is accursed,a he murmured. aItas the body which always intrudes and refuses to allow the soul to see and hear the Invisible. Slay me, Lord. I want to be able to stand before you free of the dividing wall of the flesh, so that when you speak to me I shall hear you!a The door of the cell had opened noiselessly meanwhile, and the untimely awakened monks had filed in, dressed all in white. They stood against the wall like so many ghosts, and waited. They had heard the Abbotas last words, and the breath stuck in their throats. Heas talking with G.o.d, they said to themselves, heas upbraiding G.o.d: now the thunderbolt will fall upon us! They stood against the wall, trembling.

The Abbot looked off into the distance. His eyes were somewhere else; they did not see. The novice approached and prostrated himself.

aThey have come, Father,a he said. He spoke softly, in order not to frighten him.

The Abbot heard his subordinates voice. Turning, he saw the others. He moved from the center of the cell, walking methodically, slowly, holding his moribund body as straight as he was able. He reached the stall, mounted the low stool in front, and halted. The phylactery with the holy apophthegms which was around his arm came undone. The novice darted forward in time to retie it tightly, before it could be soiled by touching the ground on which men walk. The Abbot put out his hand and grasped the ivory-hilted abbotas crosier which was next to the stall. Feeling new strength, he tossed his head high and swept his eyes over the monks who were lined up against the wall.

aFriars,a he said, aI have a few words to say to youa"my last. Open your ears, and if anyone is sleepy, let him leave! What I am about to say is difficult. All your hopes and fears must wake up and alert their ears in order to give me an answer!a aWeare listening, Holy Abbot,a said Father Habakkuk, the oldest of the Abbotas suite, and he placed his hand over his heart.

aThese are my last words, Friars. Youare all thick-headed, so I shall speak in parables.a aWeare listening, Holy Abbot,a Father Habakkuk repeated.

The Abbot bowed his head and lowered his voice. aFirst came the wings and then the angel!a He stopped, glanced at the monks one by one, then shook his head. aFriars, why do you look at me like that, with open mouths? Father Habakkuk, you raised your hand and moved your lips. Do you have some objection?a The monk put his hand to his heart. aYou said, aFirst came the wings and then the angel.a We never noticed those words in Scripture, Holy Abbot.a aHow could you have noticed them, Father Habakkuk? Alas! your minds are still dim. You open the prophets and your eyes are able to see nothing but the letters. But what can the letters say? They are the black bars of the prison where the spirit strangles itself with screaming. Between the letters and the lines, and all around the blank margins, the spirit circulates freely; and I circulate with it and bring you this great message: Friars, first came the wings and then the angel!a Father Habakkuk reopened his mouth. aOur minds, Holy Abbot, are lamps which have gone out. Light them, light them so that we may enter into the parable, and see.a aIn the beginning, Father Habakkuk, was the longing for freedom. Freedom did not exist, but suddenly, at the very depths of slavery, one man moved his manacled hands quickly, violentlya"as though they were wings; and then another, and another, and finally the entire people.a Questioning voices rang out joyfully: aThe people of Israel?a aYes, Friars, the people of Israel! This is the great and terrible moment which we are now pa.s.sing through. The yearning for freedom has grown ferocious; the wings are beating wildly; the liberator is coming! Yes, Friars, the liberator is coming, because ... Waita"this angel of freedom: what do you think heas made of? Of G.o.das condescension and charity? Of his love? His justice? No, this angel is made of the patience, obstinacy and struggle of mankind!a aYou place a great obligation, an unbearable weight, on man, Holy Abbot,a old Habakkuk ventured to object. aDo you have that much confidence in him?a But the Abbot ignored the objection. His mind was riveted on the Messiah. aHe is one of our sons,a he cried. aThat is why the Scriptures call him the son of man! Why do you think thousands of Israelas men and women have coupled, generation after generation? To rub their backsides and t.i.tillate their groins? No! All those thousands and thousands of kisses were needed to produce the Messiah!a The Abbot banged his crosier vigorously against the stall. aTake care, Friars! He may come in the middle of the day, he may come in the middle of the night. Keep yourselves constantly prepared: bathed, hungry, wakeful. Woe is you if he finds you filthy, satiated or asleep!a The monks herded one against the other and dared not look up to see the Abbot. They felt a wild flame flow out of the top of his head and attack them.

Coming down from his stall, the moribund advanced with firm steps toward the frightened herd of fathers. He held out his crosier and touched them one by one. aTake care, Friars!a he cried. aIf the yearning is broken off for even an instant, the wings become chains again. Stay vigilant, fight, keep the torch of your soul burning day and night. Strike! Forge the wings! Iam goinga"I am in a hurry to speak to G.o.d. Iam going. ... These are my final words: Strike! Forge the wings!a Suddenly he stopped breathing, and the crosier slid out of his hand. Without a sound the old man fell tranquilly, gently, down on his knees and rolled silently onto the flagstones. The novice uttered a cry and ran to help his superior. The monks moved away from the wall, stooped, laid the Abbot out on the stones, and lowered the seven-branched candelabrum and placed it next to his livid, immobile face. His beard gleamed; his white gown had opened, revealing the rough ca.s.sock with the sharp iron hooks which swaddled the old manas b.l.o.o.d.y chest and flanks.

Father Habakkuk placed his hands over the Abbotas heart. aHeas dead.a aHis deliverance has come,a said someone else.

aThe two friends have parted and returned to their homes,a a third person whispered, athe flesh to the soil and the soul to G.o.d.a But while they talked and arranged to have water heated in order to wash him, the Abbot opened his eyes. The monks recoiled in terror and gazed at him. His face was resplendent, his thin, long-fingered hands moved, his eyes were riveted ecstatically upon the air.

Father Habakkuk knelt and again placed his hand over the Abbotas heart. aItas beating,a he whispered. aHeas not dead.a He turned to the novice, who was prostrate at the old manas feet, kissing them. aGet up, John. Mount the fastest camel and race to Nazareth to bring old Simeon, the rabbi. Heall cure him. Quick; itas getting light!a Day was breaking. The clouds had scattered; the satiated, freshly bathed earth gleamed and looked up at the heavens with grat.i.tude. Two sparrow hawks leaped into the sky and flew circles over the monastery to dry off.

Wiping away his tears, the novice went to the stable and chose the fastest camel, a young, slender one with a white star on her forehead. He made her kneel, then mounted and let out a yodeling, throaty cry. The camel wrenched herself away from her foundations, stood up and with great strides started to race toward Nazareth.

The morning gleamed over the lake of Gennesaret. The water scintillated in the early light, muddy at the banks from the soil which the rains had washed down during the night, farther on blue-green, and farther still milky white. The sails of the fishing boats were stretched out to dry. Some boats were already in open waters: the fishing had begun. Rosy-white ring plovers perched happily on the quivering water. Black cormorants stood on the rocks, their round eyes pinned on the lake in case any fish should surface to rollick gleefully in the foam. Next to the sh.o.r.e a Capernaum drenched to the bone was awakening: c.o.c.ks shook the water from their feathers, donkeys braved, calves mooed tenderly; and, mixed in with these ill-matched sounds, the meaningful talk of human beings added security and gladness to the air.

Ten or so fishermen in an isolated cove, their large feet braced in the pebbles, were singing softly while they slowly, dexterously pulled in the nets. Over them stood old Zebedee, their loquacious and seven-times-cunning boss. He pretended that he loved every one of them like a son and pitied them, but he did not give them a momentas rest. They were paid by the day, and voracious old gobble-jaws made sure they did not relax for even a second.

Bells chattered. A herd of goats and sheep bounded toward the sh.o.r.e. Dogs barked; someone whistled. The fishermen turned to look, but old Zebedee rushed forward. aItas Philip and his philipkins,a he said with irritation. aAs for us, back to work!a He grabbed the rope himself and pretended to help.

Fishermen continually appeared from the village, loaded down with nets and followed continually appeared their wives, who carried the dayas provisions balanced on their heads. Sunburned boys lost no time in grasping the oars and rowing. They stopped every two or three strokes to bite the dry crusts they held in their hands. Philip stepped up onto a rock where he could be seen, and whistled. He wanted to chat, but old Zebedee frowned. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted, aLeave us alone, Philip. Weave got work to do. Go somewhere else!a And he turned him a cold shoulder.

aLet him go gab with Jonah; heas over there throwing his nets,a he grumbled. aAs for us, lads, weave got work to do!a Once more he seized a knot in the rope and began to pull.

The fishermen resumed their sad, unvarying work chant, and all had their eyes glued on the buoys of red gourds, which came continually closer.

But just as they were about to haul the womb of the net with its load of fish up onto the beach, they heard a dreary buzzing in the distance, all over the plain, accompanied by shrill cries like those of the dirge. Old Zebedee tensed his huge, hairy ear in order to hear distinctly, and his men seized the opportunity and stopped work.

aWhatas happened, lads?a Zebedee asked. aThatas the dirge; the women are lamenting.a aSome great man died,a an aged fisherman answered him. aMay G.o.d grant you a long life, boss.a But old Zebedee had already climbed up onto a rock. His rapacious eyes swept over the plain, where he could see men and women running to the fields, falling, getting up againa"and raising the dirge. The whole village began to turn upside down. Women pa.s.sed by pulling out their hair, but behind them the men walked in silence, bowed down to the earth.

aWhatas happened?a Zebedee yelled to them. aWhere are you going? Why are the women crying?a But they hurried past him toward the threshing floors and did not answer.

aHey, where are you going? Who died?a howled Zebedee, waving his hands. aWho died?a A stocky man halted, puffing. aThe wheat!a he replied.

aSpeak sensibly. Iam Zebedee; people donat joke with me. Who died?a He was answered, by cries which came from every direction aThe wheat, the barley, the bread!a Old Zebedee remained standing with gaping mouth. But suddenly he slapped his behind: he understood. aItas the flood,a he murmured; ait washed the harvest off the threshing floors. Well, let the poor complain; itas no concern of mine.a The cries now inundated the plain. Every soul in the village had come outdoors. The women fell on the threshing floors and rolled in the mud, hurrying to gather up the small amount of wheat and barley which had been left as sediment in the hollows and furrows. The arms of Zebedeeas men fell useless to their sides: they had no strength to pull in the nets. Seeing them all gazing toward the plain with unemployed hands, Zebedee flew into a rage.

aTo work!a he shouted, coming down from the rock. aHeave!a Once more he grasped the rope and pretended to pull. aWeare fishermen, glory be to G.o.d, not farmers. Let the floods come. The fish are expert swimmers and donat drown. Two and two make four!a Philip abandoned his flock and jumped from stone to stone. He wanted to talk. aA new deluge, lads!a he shouted, appearing before them. aStop, for G.o.das sake, and letas talk. Itas the end of the world! Just count up the calamities! Day before yesterday they crucified our great hope, the Zealot. Yesterday G.o.d opened the floodgates of heavena"just exactly when the threshing floors were loadeda"and away went our bread. And not very long ago one of my sheep had a two-headed lamb. Itas the end of the world, I tell you! For the love of G.o.d, stop working and letas talk!a But old Zebedee caught fire. aWonat you get the h.e.l.l out of here, Philip, and leave us alone,a he yelled, the blood rising to his head. aCanat you see weave got work to do. Weare fishermen and youare a shepherd, so let the farmers complaina"what do we care? ... Men, your work!a aAnd have you no pity, Zebedee, for the farmers whoall die of hunger?a objected the shepherd. aTheyare Israelites too, you know, our brothers; weare all one tree, all of us, and itas obvious that the plowmen are the rootsa"if they dry out, so do we all. And one thing more, Zebedee: if the Messiah comes and weave all died in the meantime, whom will he find to save? Answer me that if you can!a Old Zebedee huffed and puffed. If youad pinched his nostrils, he surely would have exploded. aGo on, for the love of G.o.d; go back to your philipkins. Iam sick and tired of hearing about Messiahs. One comes along, heas crucified; along comes the next, heas crucified too. And havenat you learned what message Andrew brought his father, Jonah: it seems that wherever you go and wherever you stop, you find a cross. The dungeons are overflowing with Messiahs. Ooo, enoughas enough! Weave been getting along just fine without Messiahs; theyare nothing but a nuisance. Go on, bring me some cheese and Iall give you a panful of fish. You give me and I give you: thatas the Messiah!a He laughed and turned to his adopted sons. aStep lively, my brave lads, so that we can light the fire, put on the chowder and eat. Look, the sunas risen a yard and we havenat done a thing.a But no sooner had Philip lifted his foot to go join his flock than he halted. A donkey, nearly perishing with a load which reached to its ears, appeared on the narrow path which hugged the sh.o.r.e of the lake, and behind the donkey was a colossus with bare feet, open shirta"and a red beard. He held a forked stick in his hand and prodded the beast: he was in a hurry.

aLook! I think itas old devil-hair himself, Judas Iscariot,a said the shepherd, holding his ground. aHeas started his rounds to the villages again to shoe mules and make pickaxes. Come on, letas see what heas got to say.a aA plague on him!a murmured old Zebedee. aI donat like his hair. Iave heard that his ancestor Cain had a beard like that.a aThe unfortunate follow was born in the desert of Idumea,a said Philip. aLions still roam there, so better not pick an argument with him.a He put two fingers into his mouth and began to whistle to the donkey-driver.

ah.e.l.lo, Judas,a he called, aglad to see you. Come over this way a bit so we can get a better look at you.a The redbeard spat and cursed. He did not like this shepherd fellow, nor did he like Zebedee, that parasitea"didnat like them at all. But he was a blacksmith, a man of need, and he approached.

aWhat news do you bring us from the villages along your route?a Philip asked. aWhatas happening on the plain?a The redbeard stopped his donkey by pulling its tail. aEverythingas just fine,a he answered with a dry laugh. aThe Lord is exceedingly merciful, bless him! Yes, he loves his people! In Nazareth he crucifies the prophets, and here on the plain he sends a deluge and takes away his peopleas bread. Canat you hear the lamentations? The women are wailing for the wheat: youad think it was their own sons.a aWhatever G.o.d does is right,a Zebedee objected, vexed because all this talk was crippling the dayas work. aI have confidence in him no matter what he does. When everyone drowns and Iam the only one to escape, G.o.d is protecting me. When everyone else is saved and Iam the only one to drown, G.o.d is protecting me then too. I have confidence, I tell you. Two and two make four.a When the redbeard heard these words he forgot that he was a day laborer who lived from hand to mouth and had to rely on every one of these people for his livelihood. Fired up by his evil disposition, he spoke and did not mince his words. aYou have confidence, Zebedee, only because the Almighty lays a nice soft bed for you and your affairs. Your Worship has five fishing boats in his service; you have fifty fishermen as slaves; you feed them just exactly enough so theyall have strength to work for you and wonat die of starvationa"and all the while Your Highness stuffs his coffers and his larders, and his belly. Then you raise your hands to heaven and say, aG.o.d is just; I have confidence in Him! The world is beautiful; I hope it never changes!a ... Why donat you ask the Zealot who was crucified the other day why he struggled to free us; or the peasants whose whole yearas supply of wheat G.o.d s.n.a.t.c.hed away in one nighta"ask them! Theyare rolling in the mud right now, picking it up grain by grain, and weeping. Or ask me. I go around the villages and see and hear Israelas suffering. How long? How, long? Didnat you ever ask yourself that, Zebedee?a aTo tell you the truth,a answered the old man, aI have no confidence in red hairs. Youare from the stock of Cain, who murdered his brother. Go to the devil, my friend. I donat want to talk with the likes of you!a This said, he turned his back on him.

The redbeard gave the donkey a swat with the forked stick. The beast drew up its head, slid back into the yoke, bolted forward and began to run.

aNever fear, old parasite,a Judas murmured; athe Messiah will come to put everything in order.a When he had got around the rocks, he turned. aWeall have a chance to discuss all this again, Zebedee,a he shouted. aThe Messiah will come one day, wonat he? He will, and then, personally, heall put every rascal in his place. Youare not the only one who has confidence! See you againa"on the day of judgment!a aGo to h.e.l.l, red hair!a was Zebedeeas reply. The womb of the net had finally become visible, and it was filled with giltheads and red mullets.

Philip stood between the two of them, unable to take sides. What Judas had said was true, and courageous. The shepherd had often felt like smearing such words in the old manas ugly face or beating them over his head, but he had never had the courage. This unregenerate was a potent landlord, strong on land and sea. He owned every one of the meadows in which Philip grazed his goats and sheepa"so how could the shepherd attack him? One had to be either a madman or a hero, and Philip was neither. He simply talked big, and much; and he never took an unnecessary chance.

He had remained silent, therefore, while the other two quarreled, and was still standing by, bashful and irresolute. The fishermen had now pulled in the nets. He bent down with them and helped fill the hampers. Even Zebedee was plunged waist deep in the water, where he directed men and fish.

But while they all admired the overflowing hampers, completely elated, the redbeardas hoa.r.s.e voice suddenly echoed from the rock opposite. aHey, Zebedee!a Old Zebedee played deaf.

Once more the voice thundered. aHey, Zebedee, take my advice and go collect your son Jacob!a aJacob!a the old man cried out in a ferment. As far as his younger son was concerned, the damage was done: he had lost him. He did not want to lose this one too. He had no other son, and he needed him in his work. aJacob!a he called to Judas in a worried voice. aWhat do you have to say about Jacob, you confounded red hair?a aI saw him on the road getting friendly with the cross-maker. They were having a pleasant chat!a aWhat cross-maker, infidel? Speak clearly!a aThe son of the Carpenter, the one who builds crosses in Nazareth and crucifies the prophets. ... Too late! Poor old Zebedeea"Jacobas lost too. You had two sons. G.o.d s.n.a.t.c.hed the one and the devil the other.a Old Zebedee stood with gaping mouth. A flying fish bounded out of the water, winged over his head, then dived back into the lake and disappeared.

aA bad sign, a bad sign!a murmured the old man in a panic. aIs my son going to leave me like this, like the flying fish, and disappear beneath deep waters?a He turned to Philip. aDid you see the flying fish? Nothing that happens in the world is without its meaning. Tell me, what was the meaning of this fish? You shepherds ...a aIf it had been a lamb, Iad be able to tell you, Father Zebedee, even if Iad seen only its back. But fish are not in my department.a He was angry because, unlike Judas, he lacked the courage to speak out like a man. aIam off to see to my animals,a he said. Putting his crook over his shoulders, he jumped from rock to rock and caught up with Judas.

aWait, brother,a he called to him. aI want to talk to you.a aGo to your sheep, coward,a the redbeard answered him, without turning, ago to your sheep; keep your nose out of menas affairs. And donat call me abrother.a Iam no brother of yours!a aWait, I tell you. I have something to say to you. Donat get angry.a Judas halted now and eyed him with disdain. aWhy didnat you open your mouth? Why are you afraid of him? Can you still be afraid when you know whatas happening, who is coming, where we are headed? Or maybe you havenat got wind of it yet. Well, poor devil, the time is near, the king of the Jews is approaching in all his glorya"and woe be to cowards!a aMore, Judas, more,a Philip implored. aHaul me over the coals, lift the forked stick youare holding and beat some self-respect into me. Iam fed up with always being afraid.a Judas approaching him slowly and grasped his arm. aDoes this come from the heart, Philip, or are you just speaking hollow words?a aIam fed up, I tell you. I was disgusted with myself today. Go in front, Judas, go in front and show me the way. Iam ready.a The redbeard looked around him and lowered his voice. aPhilip, can you kill?a aMen?a aNaturally. What did you thinka"sheep?a aI havenat killed a man yet, but Iad be able to, yes, without a doubt. Last month I felled and killed a bull all by myself.a aA manas easier. Come with us.a Philip shuddered. He understood. aAre you one of thema"one of the Zealots?a he asked, his face bathed in terror. He had heard a great deal about this awful brotherhood, the aSaint a.s.sa.s.sinsa as it was called. They terrorized everyone, from Mount Hermon down to the Dead Sea, and even farther south, as far as the desert of Idumea. Armed with crowbars, ropes and knives, they went about proclaiming: Donat pay tribute to the infidels. We have only one Lord, Adonai. Kill every Jew who disobeys the sacred Law, who laughs, speaks or works with the enemies of our G.o.d, the Romans. Strike, kill, clear the road so that the Messiah may pa.s.s! Cleanse the world, make ready the streets: he is coming!

They entered villages and cities in broad daylight to a.s.sa.s.sinate, without consulting anyone but themselves, a traitorous Sadducee or a bloodthirsty Roman. The landowners, priests and high priests trembled before them and called down the anathema: they were the ones who incited insurrections and brought out the Roman troops, with the result that ma.s.sacres broke forth at regular intervals and rivers of Jewish blood were spilled.

aAre you one of thema"one of the Zealots?a Philip repeated in a hushed voice.

aAfraid, my brave friend?a asked the redbeard, laughing with scorn. aDonat be alarmed, weare not murderers. Weare fighting for freedom, Philip, to emanc.i.p.ate our G.o.d, to emanc.i.p.ate our souls. Arise. The moment has come when you too can show the world that youare a man. Join us.a But Philip stared at the ground. He already regretted having been so effusive with Judas about such matters. Brave words are fine, he reflected. Itas delightful to sit with a friend, to eat, drink, start weighty discussions, say, aI shall doa and aI shall show ...a But on your guard, Philip; donat go any further, or youall find yourself in hot water.

Judas leaned over him and spoke to him in a changed voice. His heavy paw now touched Philipas shoulder gently and caressed it. aWhat is the life of man? What is it worth? Nothing, if it isnat free. Weare fighting for freedom, I tell you. Join us.a Philip was silent. If he could only get away! But Judas kept a firm hold on his shoulder.

aJoin us! Youare a man: decide! Do you have a knife?a aYes.a aKeep it on you at all times, under your shirt. You may need it at any minute. Weare pa.s.sing through difficult days, my brother. Donat you hear buoyant steps coming closer and closer? Itas the Messiah, and he must not find the road closed. The knife is more of a help in this than bread. Here, look at me!a He opened his shirt. Naked and gleaming next to the dark skin of his breast was a short doubled-edged bedouinas dagger.

aIf it hadnat been for Zebedeeas scatter-brained son Jacob, I would have sunk it today into a traitoras heart. Yesterday before I left Nazareth the brotherhood condemned him to deatha"a aWho?a a... and the lot of killing him fell to me.a aWho?a Philip asked again. He had grown afraid.

aThatas my business,a the redbeard replied abruptly. aKeep your nose out of our affairs.a aDonat you trust me?a Judas swept his eyes about him, then leaned over and seized Philip by the arm.

aListen well to what Iam going to say to you, Philip, and donat breathe a word of it to anyonea"or youare done for! Iam on my way now to the desert, to the monastery. The monks called me to make some tools for them. In a few daysa"three or foura"Iall be pa.s.sing your camp again. Turn over well in your mind the words we exchanged. Keep mum; donat let out the secret to anyone. Decide all by yourself. If youare a man and you come to the right decision, Iall reveal to you who we plan to strike.a aWho? Do I know him?a aDonat be in such a hurry. Youare not one of the brothers yet.a He held out his immense hand. aFarewell, Philip. You were a mere nothing until now; no one cared whether you were dead or alive. I was the samea"a nothinga"until the day I entered the brotherhood, but ever since then Iave been a different person: I became a man. No more Judas the redbeard, the blacksmith who slaved like an ox with the sole purpose of nourishing these feet and this belly and this ugly snout. Now Iam working for a great purposea"do you hear?a"for a great purpose; and whoever works for a great purpose, even if heas the humblest of the lot, he becomes great. Understand? Thatas all Iam going to say to you. Farewell!a He poked his donkey and set off at a trot for the desert.

Philip remained all alone. Resting his chin on his crook, he watched Judas until he reached the other side of the rocks and disappeared.

Look here, this redbeard speaks well, he thought, well, and like a saint. A bit boastful, perhaps, but who cares! As long as a fellow sticks to words, everything sails along just fine; but if he goes over to action ... Watch out, Philip, poor devil. Think of your little sheep. This business will take some reflection. Best let it ridea"and wait and see what happens.

He placed his crook over his shouldersa"he had heard the bells of his goats and sheepa"and hurried off, whistling.

Zebedeeas adopted sons had made a fire meanwhile and put on water for the fish soup. As soon as the water boiled they threw in rock fish, limpets, sea urchins, a dentex or two, and a green-haired stone to make the food smell of the sea. In a little while they would add the giltheads and red mullets, for how could they be satisfied with just rock fish and limpets. The hungry fishermen squatted in a circle around the pot and waited anxiously, talking in low voices among themselves. The oldest leaned over to his neighbor. aIt was wonderful to see the blacksmith rub it in his face. Patience. The day will come when the poor will rise to the top and the rich sink to the bottom. Thatas the meaning of justice.a aDo you think that will ever happen?a replied the other, who had been consumed by hunger ever since his youth. aDo you think that will ever happen on this earth?a aThereas a G.o.d, isnat there?a the old man answered. aYes, there is! And heas just, isnat he? Heas got to be if heas G.o.d, hasnat he? Heas just! So you see, it will happen. All we need, son, is patiencea"patience.a aHey, what are you mumbling about over there?a said Zebedee, who had caught some of it and grown suspicious. aYou just worry about your work and forget about G.o.d. He knows better than you what heas about. Good lord, what next!a They all immediately fell silent. The old fisherman got up, took the wooden spoon, and stirred the soup.

Chapter Nine.

THE HOUR the adopted sons lifted the nets to their shoulders and the morning fell over the lake, so virgin it seemed to have come fresh from the hands of the Creator, the son of Mary was traveling along with Jacob, Zebedeeas elder son. They had already left Magdala behind them. Now and then they stopped for a moment to comfort the women who were lamenting the lost wheat; then, conversing, they continued on. Jacob had also been caught by the squall. He had spent the night in Magdala, lodging at the house of a friend, and had risen before dawn to resume his journey.

He sloshed through the mud in the blue half-light, anxious to reach the lake of Gennesaret. The bitterness of all he had seen in Nazareth had already begun to settle down calmly within him. The crucified Zealot had become a distant memory, and Jacobas mind was once again dominated by his fatheras fishing boats and men: by everyday concerns. He strode over the pits which had been scooped out by the rain. The trees dripped, half smiling, half weeping; the skies above him laughed; birds awokea"it was a glorious day. But as the light increased, he was able to see how the torrents had laid waste the threshing floors. The wheat and barley which had been stacked up ran now with the water in the road; the first farmers and their wives had already poured out to the fields and begun the dirge. Suddenly he saw the son of Mary, bent over with two old women on a devastated threshing floor.

He clenched his staff tightly and cursed. Nazareth jumped back into his mind, together with the cross and the crucified Zealota"and now, look! here was the cross-maker lamenting the lost wheat with the women! Jacobas soul was rough and unaccommodating. Loud-mouthed, rapacious, without compa.s.sion, he had taken all his fatheras characteristics and bore no resemblance either to his mother Salome, who was a saintly woman, or to John, his sweet, lovable brother. ... Clenching his staff, he advanced angrily toward the threshing floor.

At that same moment the son of Mary, the tears still running down his cheeks, rose in order to go back to the road. The two old women held his hands, kissing him and not allowing him to leave. Who could possibly match this unknown wayfarer in finding the right words to comfort them?

aDonat cry, donat cry, Iall come back,a he kept telling them as he gradually extricated his hands from the aged palms.

Jacob halted in his tracks and stood gaping with astonishment. The cross makeras eyes glittered, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears. At one moment they gazed up at the rosy, elated heavens, at the next down at the earth and the stooping people who were sc.r.a.ping in the mud and lamenting.

aCan this be the cross-makera"this?a murmured Jacob, and he drew to one side, troubled. aHis face shines like the prophet Elijahas!a The son of aMary had now stepped over the rim of the threshing floor. He saw Jacob, recognized him and put his hand over his heart in the sign of greeting.

aWhere are you going, son of Mary?a said Zebedeeas son, sweetening his tone. But before the other could reply, he added, aLetas go together. The road is long and calls for company.a The road is long and calls for company, the son of Mary repeated to himself, but he did not divulge his thought.

aLetas go,a he said, and together they started down the paved road to Capernaum.

They did not speak for some time. The womenas laments rose up from every threshing floor. The old men, propped on their staffs, watched the wheat run off with the water. The farmers stood dark-faced and motionless in the middle of their mown and devastated fields. Some remained silent; others cursed.

The son of Mary sighed. aAh, if there was only one man who had the strength to starve to death so that the people would not die of hunger!a Jacob glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. aIf you were able to become wheat,a he scoffed, aso that the people could eat you and be saved, would you do it?a aWho wouldnat?a said the son of Mary.

Jacobas hawk eyes flickered, as did his thick, protruding lips. aMe,a he answered.

The son of Mary was silent. The other took offense. aWhy should I perish?a he growled. aIt was G.o.d who sent the flood. What did I do wrong?a He looked fiercely at the sky. aWhy did G.o.d do it? How did the people offend him? I donat understanda"do you, son of Mary?a aDonat ask, my brother: itas a sin. Until a few days ago I too asked, but now I understand. This was the serpent which corrupted the first creatures and made G.o.d banish us from Paradise.a aWhat do you mean by athisa?a aAsking questions.a aI donat understand,a said Zebedeeas son, and he quickened his pace.

He no longer cared for the cross-makeras company: his words weighed heavily on him, and his silences were even more unbearable than his words.

They came now to a small rise in the plain. Visible in the distance were the glittering waters of Gennesaret. The boats had already reached the middle, and the fishing had commenced. The sun rose out of the desert, brilliantly red. On the sh.o.r.e of the lake a rich market town gleamed in all its whiteness.

Jacob saw his boats in the distance, and his mind filled with fish. He turned to his inconvenient companion. aWhere are you going, son of Mary?a he asked. aLook, thereas Capernaum.a The son of Mary bowed his head and did not reply. He was ashamed to say he was going to the monastery to become a saint.

Jacob gave his head a toss and eyed him. An evil thought had suddenly entered his mind. aYouad rather not say, is that it?a he growled. aYouare keeping it a secret, are you!a Grabbing hold of his companionas chin, he raised his head. aLook into my eyes. Tell me: whoas sending you?a The son of Mary sighed. aI donat know, I donat know,a he murmured. aIt may be G.o.d, but it may be the ...a He hesitated. He was so frightened, the word stuck in his throat. What if he were truly being sent by the devil?

A dry laugh, filled with contempt, burst from Jacobas lips. He grasped him tightly by the arm and shook him with violence. aThe centurion,a he bellowed softly, ayour friend the centuriona"is he the one whoas sending you?a Yes, that was it: the centurion must be sending him as a spy. New Zealots had cropped up in the mountains and the desert. They came down to the villages, got hold of the people secretly and spoke to them of revenge and liberty. The bloodthirsty centurion of Nazareth had unleashed a greased-palm spy of a Jew to every village. This fellow, this cross-maker, was without a doubt one of them.

Knitting his brows, Jacob shoved Jesus away from him. aListen to me, son of the Carpenter,a he said, lowering his voice, ahereas where our ways part. You may not know where youare headed, but I do. All right, go now, but this wonat be the last youall see or hear of me. No matter where you lead me, poor devil, Iall follow youa"and woe is you! Thatas all Iave got to say; but mark my words, this road youave chosen, you wonat leave it alive!a This said, and without offering him his hand, he cascaded down the slope at a run.

Zebedeeas adopted sons removed the copper cauldron from the fire and sat in a circle around it. First to dip in the wooden spoon was the old man himself. He chose the largest fish and began to eat. But the oldest of the group put out his hand to prevent him.

aWe forgot to say grace,a he reminded him.

Old Zebedee, still chewing his mouthful of food, lifted the wooden spoon and started to give thanks to the G.o.d of Israel for sending fish, grain, wine and oil to nourish the generations of the Hebrews and enable them to endure until the coming of the day of the Lorda"when their enemies would be scattered, when all nations would fall prostrate at Israelas feet and worship her, when all G.o.ds would fall prostrate at the feet of Adonai and worship him. aThat is why we eat, Lord, that is why we marry and have children, that is why we livea"all for your sake!a This said, he swallowed the fish in one gulp.

While master and men ate and enjoyed the fruits of their labor, their eyes fixed on the lake-the mother that nourished thema"suddenly Jacob appeared before them, puffing and covered with mud. The fishermen crowded together to make room for him, and old Zebedee, who was in a merry mood, cried, aWelcome to my first-born! Youare in luck, sit down and eat. What news?a No answer. The son knelt by his fatheras side but did not extend his hand to the fragrant, steaming cauldron.

Old Zebedee turned his head timidly and looked at him. He knew this peevish, taciturn son of his inside-out, and feared him. aArenat you hungry?a he asked. aWhat kind of a face is that? Whoave you been fighting with this time?a aWith G.o.d, devils and men,a Jacob answered in a rage. aIam not hungry!a Ouch! heas come to spoil our soup, Zebedee said to himself, but he strained to retain his good humor and change the subject. He slapped his son lovingly on the knee. aHey, you rascal,a he said, winking at him, awho were you talking with along the way?a Jacob gave a start. aSo we have spies, have we? Who told you? ... I wasnat talking with anyone!a He got up, went to the lake, plunged in knee-deep and washed himself. Then he returned to the group, but as he saw how happy they were, all eating and laughing, he burst out, aYou eat and drink, and in Nazareth others are crucified for your sakes!a Unable to stand the sight of them any more, he started toward the village, grumbling.

Old Zebedee watched him recede. aMy sons are thorns in my flesh,a he said, shaking his large head. aOne too soft and pious, the other too pigheaded: wherever he goes or stops, heas sure to start a row. Thorns. ... Neither of them developed into a true man: a little bit soft, a little bit against the grain; sometimes kind, sometimes a snapping dog; half devil, half angela"in short, a man!a Sighing, he grabbed a gilthead to force the bitterness down. aThank goodness we have the giltheads,a he said, and the lakes which make them and the G.o.d who makes the lakes.a aIf you speak like that, what must old Jonah say?a said the old man of the group. aThe poor fellow sits on a rock every evening, looks toward Jerusalem and weeps for his son Andrew. Heas another one of those clairvoyants. They say he discovered a prophet and goes the rounds with him, eating nothing but locusts and honey, and grabbing people to dunk them in the Jordan, apparently to wash away their sins.a aAnd weare told to have sons to thrive!a said Zebedee. aFetch me the gourd, men. Thereas still some wine, isnat there? My spirits need lifting!a They heard heavy, slow-moving footsteps on the pebbles. Some c.u.mbersome beast seemed to be approaching in a rage. Old Zebedee turned.

aWelcome to Jonah, the good man!a he shouted. He sponged off his wine-stained beard, rose respectfully and offered him his place. aIave just been having it out with my sons and the giltheads. Come, try your hand at the giltheads and tell us what news from Saint Andrew, your son.a An old fisherman appeared before them. He was short and stocky, barefooted, roasted by the sun; with cloudy, stale eyes, an immense head covered by curly white hair, and skin which had grown fishlike scales. Leaning forward, he stared at them one by one, looking for somebody.

aWho are you looking for, Father Jonah?a Zebedee asked. aAre you too weary to speak?a He gazed at his feet, his beard, his hair, all tangled and filled with fishbones and seaweed, and at his thick, chapped lips which opened and closed like those of a fish and made no sound. Zebedee wanted to laugh, but suddenly he was overcome by fright. A foolish suspicion darted through his mind. Terrified, he stretched forth both his hands as though he wished to prevent old Jonah from coming closer.

aSpeak! Can you be the prophet Jonah?a he shouted, jumping to his feet. aSuch a long time with us, and youave been hiding all the while? I adjure you in the name of Adonai: speak! Once I heard the holy Abbot of the monastery tell about the shark that swallowed the prophet Jonah and how, afterward, the fish vomited and Jonah jumped out of its belly, a man as before. So help me G.o.d, the way the Abbot described him to us he was just like you: seaweed entwined in the hair of his head and chest, and his beard full of newborn crabs. No offense, Jonah, but I wager that if I feel under your beard Iall find crabs there.a The fishermen burst out laughing, but Zebedee continued to gaze at his old friend with terror in his eyes.

aSpeak, man of G.o.d,a he said to him. aAre you the prophet Jonah?a Old Jonah shook his head. He couldnat recall being swallowed by any fish. It was possible, however. After so many years wrestling with the fish, what chance did he have to remember?

aItas him, itas him!a murmured old Zebedee, his eyes darting from side to side as though he wanted to escape. He knew that prophets were freakish men whom one must not trust. They disappeared into the air, the sea, or into firea"and afterward, when you least expected them, lo! there they were in front of you! Had not Elijah risen to heaven mounted on fire? Yet he still lived and reigned, and no matter what mountain peak you scaled, there he was before you. The same was true of Enoch: immortal. And now, here was the prophet Jonah. He plays ignorant, Zebedee said to himself; he pretends to be a fisherman and the father of Peter and Andrew. Better tackle him with kindness: these prophets are an odd, pigheaded lot, and if you donat watch out youall find yourself in hot water.

He sweetened his voice. aBeloved neighbor, Father Jonah,a he began, ayou are looking for someonea"is it Jacob? He returned from Nazareth but was tired, it seems, and went to the village. If you want to know about your son Peter, he says heas well and that you shouldnat worry: heas well, heas coming soon, he sends his best wishes. Do you hear me, Jonah? Give me some sign.a He spoke sweetly to him and stroked his leathery shoulders. Who could tell, everything was possible, and this blockhead of a fisherman might be the prophet Jonah. So, best take care!

Old Jonah stooped, s.n.a.t.c.hed a small sea scorpion out of the cauldron, stuffed the whole thing into his mouth and began to chew it, bones and all.

aIam going,a he mumbled, and he turned his back on them. Once more the pebbles began to crunch. A seagull skimmed over his head, flapped its wings and stopped for a moment as though its eye had caught sight of a crab under the fishermanas hair. But it uttered a hoa.r.s.e cry, apparently from fear, and flew away.

aWatch out, lads,a said old Zebedee. aI bet my bones heas the prophet Jonah. Two of you had better go help him now that Peteras away. Otherwise, who knows what will happen to us?a Two great colossi got up and addressed him, half joking, half afraid. aZebedee, we hold you responsible for the consequences. The prophets are wild beasts. They open their mouths out of the blue and gobble you up to the last bone! All right, letas go. Farewell!a Old Zebedee stretched with satisfactiona"he had managed well with the prophet. Now he turned to the remaining adopted sons. aLook alive, men, step lively, load the fish into the hampers and go around to all the villages. But be careful, the peasants are foxy; theyare not like us fishermena"weare G.o.das own! Give the least number of fish you possibly can and take the greatest possible amount of wheat (even if itas last yearas), and of oil, wine, chickens, rabbits. Do you understand? Two and two make four.a The adopted sons jumped up and began to fill the hampers.

In the distance, behind the rocks, a man appeared mounted on a racing camel. Old Zebedee shaded his eyes with his hand and looked.

aHey, men,a he cried, ahere, have a looka"do you think itas John, my son?a The rider was now pa.s.sing over the fine sand and approaching them.

aItas him, itas him!a the fishermen shouted. aWelcome to your son!a Now the rider was pa.s.sing in front of them, waving his hand to greet them.

aJohn,a cried the old father, awhy in such a rush? Where are you going? Stop a minute and let us see you!a aThe Abbot is dying; I havenat time.a aWhatas the matter with him?a aHe doesnat want to eat; he wants to die.a aWhy? Why?a But the rideras words were lost in the air.

Old Zebedee coughed, thought for a moment and then shook his head. aThe Lord preserve us from sainthood,a he said.

The son of Mary watched Jacob descend with angry strides toward Capernaum; then he collapsed to the ground, legs crossed, his heart filled with grievance. Why did he, who yearned so much to love and be loved, why did he awaken so much hatred in the hearts of men? It was his own fault; not G.o.das, not menas, but his own. Why did he behave so cowardly, why did he choose a road to follow and then lack the courage to pursue it to its end? He was a cripple, a pitiful coward. Why didnat he dare take Magdalene as his wife, to save her from shame and death; and when G.o.d clawed him and commanded him to rise, why did he cling to the ground and refuse to get up? And now, why was he governed by fear and going to the desert to hide? Did he think G.o.d would not find him there as well as anywhere else?

The sun stood nearly above his head. The lamentation for the wheat had stopped. These tormented people were already used to calamities: they recalled that their wailing had never brought a cure, and were quiet. For thousands of years they had suffered injustice, gone hungry, been tossed about by forces both visible and invisible. But somehow they limped through life, always managing to make ends meeta"and this had taught them patience.

A green lizard emerged from a squat bush. It had come out to sun itself. When it saw this terrifying man-beast above it, its heart took fright and began to thump, just below the neck; but the reptile nerved itself, glued the whole length of its body to the warm rock, shifted its round, jet-black eye and gazed with confidence at the son of Mary, as though welcoming him or saying, I saw you were alone, so I came to keep you company. Rejoicing, the son of Mary held his breath so that he would not frighten the visitor; but while he watched it, feeling his own heart thump like the lizardas, two fuzzy b.u.t.terflies, both black and splashed with red, fluttered down between them and flew back and forth from one to the other, not wanting to leave. They danced gleefully, frolicking in the sun, and at the very last alighted on the manas bloodied kerchief with their proboscises over the red spots, as though they wished to suck up the blood. Feeling their caress on the top of his head, he recalled G.o.das talons, and it seemed to him that these and the b.u.t.terfly wings brought him the identical message. Ah, if only G.o.d could always descend to man not as a thunderbolt or a clawing vulture but as a b.u.t.terfly!

And just as he joined b.u.t.terflies and G.o.d in his mind, he felt something tickle the soles of his feet. He looked down and saw a preoccupied swarm of fat yellow-black ants filing hurriedly under his arches. Working in groups of twos or threes, they were carrying away the wheat in their roomy mandibles, one grain at a time. They had stolen it from the plain, right out of the mouths of men, and were transporting it now to their anthill, all the while praising G.o.d the Great Ant, who, ever solicitous for his Chosen People the ants, sent floods to the plain at precisely the right moment, just when the wheat was stacked upon the threshing floors.

The son of Mary sighed. Ants are G.o.das creatures too, he reflected, and so are men, and lizards, and the gra.s.shoppers I hear in the olive grove and the jackals who howl during the night, and floods, and hunger. ...

He heard someone puffing behind him. Terror took hold of him. He had forgotten her for such a long time, but she had not forgotten him. He could now feel her in back of him, seated cross-legged like himself and breathing heavily.

aThe Curse is G.o.das creature too,a he murmured.