Three

They then resumed discussing more of the practical details of their trip, which was almost as much of an exciting adventure for Andrew and Simon as it was for John. They very rarely left Galilee except to go to Jerusalem for the great feasts such as Passover, when, it seemed, the whole country emptied itself out into the Temple environs as it recalled the wonderful event of the escape from slavery to the Egyptians and the passage on dry land through the Red Sea. And at those times, there were such crowds that strangers like them were overwhelmed, and wanted nothing more than to get back to the comparative sanity of Galilee, where people were not treading on each others' heels, and elbowing each other out of the way, and especially did not speak with strange accents hard to understand. Some even spoke Greek, not Aramaic.

And if John was nervous about his new life, Andrew, at least, was nervous about the meeting with the lawyers. He did not feel at all confident that he would be able to persuade anyone of anything, and had a feeling that he and Simon were children wandering into adult territory, where clever talkers could take advantage of them. He had no idea how they would manage this, but where money was involved, his father was right; one had to guard each shekel, or one would find himself not only with none, but owing everything he could earn for the rest of his life.

Simon, it seemed, was not concerned about this. He dismissed Andrew's mention of his fears with, "Nonsense! If they start in with whereases and wherefores, I will simply tell them, 'Explain what that means in Aramaic, and write it down thus, or we will not agree to anything. You will see." Andrew hoped so, but he was afraid that Simon, though he could read, after a fashion, was dense enough not to realize that apparently straightforward language could be as easy to twist as complicated legalese. Still, it was only that the two families wanted to be partners, and in itself it was a simple thing.

He hoped.

Two days before they left, John disappeared, and when Andrew and Simon asked at his house where he had gone, his mother said, "He went up the hill to Nazareth to see Joseph's Mary; he has become very fond of her, and he wanted to ask her something before he went to Jerusalem. She is a very wise woman, and whatever is bothering him, I am sure she can set his mind at rest. He will return a little after dark."

Well, that confirmed that something serious was on John's mind, as Andrew suspected. He hoped that the lady would again assuage what was bothering him. Fortunately, there was little to do in these last minutes, and so the two men merely finished up details, consulted with their father and Zebedee about how to handle various contingencies, and waited. John did show up that night, and it did seem that he was somewhat calmer, if a little bewildered. Andrew longed to ask him what wasthe matter, but since he had not confided in him, he could find no way to broach the subject. The only hint about it was that John said the next day, "We must not forget to see that prophet, or whatever he is, after my week."

"You mean John?" asked Andrew with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, was that his name?" said John, with the same look. "I had forgotten." And they traded punches on their shoulders.

"You will need him. If he bathes people in the Jordan, you will have to wash off the smell of lamp-oil and sheepskin before you go back to at least a month of civilized work like fishing." It occurred to Andrew that John would probably have to wash off the smell of fish when he got to the High Priest's palace. No one here noticed it, but they all probably reeked of it. But he decided not to mention it to John, not to create something new to be shy about. They did bathe every day--something easy enough since they were on a lake, and very often without clothes as they worked--but it was one thing to jump in the water and rub oneself, and another to get rid of a smell that had probably entered their pores. Oh, well; he would lose the odor soon, Andrew suspected, especially if the Judeans washed with soap as well as water.

In any case, their last-minute preparations and in John's case the prospect of a whole new life crowded out the worries they all had, and the day of departure was soon upon them, and they began their journey before dawn.

They decided that they could make better time if they went straight through Samaria rather than following the Jordan River valley through the "Arabah," as they called the green trench that divided the mountains of nothing but dirt on either side. That route would have been hotter, and they would have to climb the mountains from Jericho to Jerusalem at the end. "And there will not be much danger," said Simon, "if we go through Samaria, because there are three of us, and we present a rather formidable aspect." Certainly Andrew and to a lesser extent John did. The Samaritans, descendants of the Philistines and other hostile tribes, had no love for Judeans, even those semi-Judeans who were Galileans, and the feeling in general was returned with interest by the descendants of Jacob.

"Besides," added Andrew, "we should reach Sychar by nightfall, and there they let us drink from Jacob's well, and are even willing to sell us food. That was why we did not pack so much."

They made good progress on that first day, since they had not been fishing for three days now and were well rested. And so they strode along at a rather brisk pace; they were all in good physical condition, even Simon, who did not do much rowing. Andrew was amused at how John tried to match strides with him, which involved much stretching of his legs. He would be sore on the morrow, but it would be good for him.

As they expected, no one bothered them--in fact, they saw few people, since most were busy on the farms--and they were able to refresh themselves at the well and sleep after buying provisions in Sychar. No one even expressed curiosity about them; the Samaritans knew who they were, and wanted to have as little to do with them as possible once they had taken their money. They slept out in the open, not even having bothered to bring a tent, and fortunately it did not rain.

As they reached Jerusalem, they went up into the Temple to pay their respects to the Master, and then agreed that they would meet there a week later and established a corner where they could be found. As John left to begin his great adventure, Andrew looked after him marching resolutely away, not even looking back, obviously totally absorbed in what he was about to face. Andrew felt proud of him, and, it must be said, a bit sorry for him also; for someone used to such an active life, it would have to be rather boring. But then, perhaps that was what he was cut out to do--though Andrew rather doubted it.

When he had turned a corner and was out of sight, Simon said, "Come, let us see to lodging first, and then eat. It is too late to meet Amos tonight, and he is not expecting us until the morrow in any case."

"Do you think that John will actually become a rabbi?" asked Andrew pensively.

"I know not. I am sure that he will do well at whatever he puts his mind to; he is a superb young man. But the question is whether this is what is really calling him, or whether there is some other profession that would suit him better. He certainly does love to read, Zebedee told me." He said this a little complacently. Andrew, looking at Simon, thought that perhaps he too should learn to read--but then, why bother? It seemed a hard chore, and there was no need for both of them to have the skill.

"He seems fascinated by this John namesake of his," he remarked. You know, when he went to see Mary, I got the impression that she discussed him with him, and advised him to see him. He is--or at least was--very worried about something."

"You do know that he was a great friend of Samuel, the twin who was killed?"

Andrew looked at Simon. "Ah, yes? I suspected as much. His reaction was much greater than just hearing that there was an accident."

"Zebedee told me that they had become fast friends."

"And now that you mention it, somebody also told me that Thomas, his twin, was a secret drunk, and that that probably had something to do with the accident. Poor Thomas! Apparently he had tried to hide what he was doing, and all the world knew about it."

Simon stopped and looked back over at Andrew. "But you do not mean that Thomas killed Samuel!"

"Oh, no. Not at all. The one I was talking to seemed to think that they may have had a dispute about his vice, and--you know how it is--they were not paying attention to the fact that they were in a small boat, and it overset, and apparently hit Samuel on the head, and he died before Thomas could rescue him."

"It must have been something like that. Poor Malachi!"

"Poor everyone, including John! He looked almost as if for some reason he felt responsible."

Simon resumed waling slowly, musing. "No wonder Malachi wanted no help, once he found the two of them. I had heard that he disowned Thomas; I did not believe it, but perhaps he did, and that was why. To have two sons, and then none, even though one was still alive--if one can call it 'alive,' if he is off by himself probably drinking himself to death. That is what I would do, if my drinking somehow caused my brother's death!" He shook his head in sorrow.

"It is sad. Sad. . . ." Andrew thought of John. Even if he were not somehow involved in the death, to have the friend you loved die so tragically, and to have the one left look exactly like him (he had seen the two together once, and wondered how anyone could distinguish them) be not only a drunk, but the one who, deliberately or not, brought about the death! He looked up, to try to put it out of his mind, and said, "But is not this where we are to lodge?"

"Let us assure ourselves that they have room for us, and then we can go down that street there, where there is a place where they tell me they have edible food for not a great deal."

They went in and haggled over the price of a room, and finally after about half an hour, brought the owner down to a price they thought they could afford. Simon did most of the talking, which, Andrew realized, was fortunate, since Andrew would have given up in exasperation in half the time, and spent twice as much. As it was, they probably spent more than they had to, and it galled Andrew to think thus, but it was perhaps a reasonable price, considering that they were in the center of Jerusalem, and close to where they would be meeting the lawyers.

He hated the city for this reason; as soon as they opened their mouths, everyone recognized from their accent that they were from Galilee--and they no doubt smelt of fish, which would give everyone here the impression that they were ignorant clods, to be taken advantage of. It was well that Simon was so persistent. He had named as his price what he would have paid for a comparable room (actually a rather larger one) in Bethsaida or Capernaum, and when the owner simply laughed, he said, "Do you want to take it, or shall we go elsewhere?"

"You will find nothing 'elsewhere' at anything near that price, unless you go back to Galilee!" said the owner.

"Well, if it comes to that, we can always go out of this cesspool of a city, and pay nothing."

"And find yourselves stripped of everything in the morning, including your clothes."

"We have no guarantee, you know, that that will not happen here."

"This is a respectable house!"

"Words! Words! You have heard our offer."

"But that is ridiculous! Absurd!" But he quoted a prince that was lower than what he first mentioned.

Simon kept offering the same price, and the owner kept scoffing--but he also, by little and little, lowered what he required. Eventually, Simon just stood there, making ready to turn away, and as soon as he moved, the man came down a bit more, and finally began with, "Behold, I cannot charge less, or I will be losing money."And he named a price, at which Simon shook his head.

After several of these bits of verbal swordplay, Simon took Andrew by the shoulder and actually turned him around and began to walk out, at which the owner said, "Very well, I will rent you the room at a loss, because it is better to have someone there than an empty room!"

This happened a couple of times before Simon (who was walking out slowly) looked back and said, "Very well," and they agreed on the price, and left to eat.

On the way, Andrew said, "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Oh, I used to watch Father haggle over the price of fish, and the women over food, and study how the successful ones managed it. I knew I would have to learn the skill somehow. It is all in how long one can tolerate arguing and being called names. We probably could have talked him down several shekels more, but I was growing tired of it all."

"I am glad it was you doing it; I would have given in long ago; it is like trying to walk through a swarm of mosquitoes."

"I suspect that what we are going to find will be more like being in the middle of a swarm of bees. So we had best eat and then get as much rest as possible."

So they ate, rather well, Andrew thought, though it cost a startling amount when all was said and done. Simon remarked afterward that perhaps they should find a more reasonable place next time, "though they know how to cook here; but we are not here to stuff our stomachs!" He rubbed his as he spoke.

The next few days saw them meeting with the lawyers, who raised difficulties and contingencies neither of them had thought of, and which neither of them could foresee in his wildest nightmares, and proposed solutions (always expensive) that involved convoluted agreements between the two parties that no one could understand.

But Simon put on his haggling-cap, and simply told them that he understood Aramaic and not Legality, "or whatever it is that you are spouting," and if they did not have the documents in a language he could understand, with meanings that were obvious to simple fishermen, he would have none of them. They objected, of course, that matters were not so simple as all that, and he answered that of course they were if one made an effort to make them simple instead of using one's wits to twist things into knots. All they wanted was (and so on). And they tried to explain that in order to do this and be safe about it they had to (and so on), and he said, "Well, then, you can explain to me in good Aramaic why it must be done and what happens if it is not done, and why it must be done in this way rather than that, and what happens if it is not done in this way, and I might--I might listen to you."

Andrew was lost in admiration, when he was not lost in a mass of verbiage. After two days of this, he realized that his head was about to explode, though Simon seemed to be enjoying himself at harassing the lawyers (who were having as much fun sparring with him as he was); and so Andrew excused himself, and went for a walk.

"Amazing!" he thought. "Who would have thought that Simon would have it in him! And his patience! Of course, he obviously delights in it. It absolutely infuriates me! One must be fair; Simon is much better at this sort of thing than I could ever be." The thought surprised him, since he was so convinced that he was better than Simon in every possible way.

"But one must be fair," he repeated to himself, with some complacency, thinking that he was, after all, seeking justice and was not simply being envious. It made him feel quite virtuous.

He was surprised, as he walked along musing, to find that the city was almost as crowded as for the festival, and the people just as rudely shoved him aside in their hurry to get nowhere. "And they consider us boors!" he thought to himself, resisting the temptation to dig his elbow into the man who had bumped into his side. He had his hand on his money-pouch inside his tunic, since many of the bumpers had an ulterior motive for jostling him, as he had once or twice discovered at a festival. Now nothing could induce him to let go of his hold on his valuables.

Of course, as soon as he realized that he was sightseeing, he asked where the High Priest's palace was, and found it near the Temple--which made sense, he thought, if the High Priest had to serve there often. He was awestruck when he looked at the building.

"To think that John is in there somewhere!" he said. He would not dare even to approach the threshold and John was actually inside, doubtless studying and poring over manuscripts--or whatever one did with other students--and discussing the meaning of the Books parts of which were read on Sabbaths in the Synagogue. "Well, I suppose we have lost him," he said to one of the ornate windows, which was actually covered with some kind of transparent stone with a slightly blue tint. He asked someone who was passing by and not in the usual tremendous hurry what it was, and was told "alabaster," which left him as much in the dark as he had been before he asked.

"Once introduced here," he said to himself afterwards, "he would never condescend to return to our simple way of life!"

In a way, he was happy for John, but realized how much he would miss him--and even more, his admiring glances. He had not realized how much he had fed off John's looking up to him as a kind of paragon of what he wanted to be. And now he had soared far, far beyond that, and would look down on him and all the rest of the lowly fishermen from his lofty height, and even might come into the synagogue at Capernaum or Nazareth some day to explain to the ordinary people they mysteries of the Torah, reading from that immense scroll they had as if it were just a matter of course.

Andrew had intended to be exhilarated by seeing where John was, and he found himself depressed in the extreme, because of missing John, but, interestingly, he realized, not least because Simon was obviously so much better than he at these negotiations that simply infuriated him. Several times he had wanted to slam his hand down on the table hard enough to break it (and probably would have done, and broken his hand to boot), but Simon simply kept at it, wearing them down as water wore away at a rock.

Well, but he had best go back and at least pretend to join in the discussions that he increasingly could not follow and cared nothing about following. When it was all over, Simon would read the results to him, "and it will be in Aramaic" he said to himself, and presumably then he would understand it and be able to agree--and to explain to Zebedee and his own father, who would have to sign the documents.

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