Ten

As Simon was speaking, John saw Thomas out of the corner of his eye, and said, "Simon, you have not yet met Thomas, who now calls himself 'Didymus,' in honor of his brother, who died, you know, in that tragic accident."

"I have heard much about you in the past," said Simon, "though as rivals at the time, we never met. I am happy to see you here." His emphasis on "happy" probably had something to do with the fact that he had been meeting with, among others, Thomas's father, who had disowned him. Nathanael thought that this gave him another bond of sorts with Thomas, because his own father had, if not exactly disowned Nathanael, banished him out of his sight. He wondered if his association with Jesus would redeem him in his father's eyes. Certainly to do so, it would have to be more than holding up a drunk.

"--but he knows what he is doing." Simon was saying, obviously referring to Jesus. That was becoming a refrain, thought Nathanael. Because people were trying to convince themselves of it? Certainly the results so far did not look promising. Or did they? Jesus did know what Nathanael was pleading under the fig-tree; he did know Thomas's condition, and did say he could help him, and Nathanael did have the courage to overcome his disgust at approaching Thomas, if it was really courage. And, he supposed, in ordinary circumstances he would not have done it--not, to be honest, been able to do it. So perhaps they were right.

Perhaps.

Simon was replying to something John had said, "--joining of our hired hands and--and another person--makes the business viable and even perhaps somewhat better than either of ours was by itself. He still grumbles, but I think he sees it and accepts it. Of course, what else can he do?" Thomas was silent. Presumably, because the reference to the "other person" was to his father, who apparently was going to work for Zebedee now that he could not run a viable business on his own.

Andrew came up, "I am delighted to hear it," he said. "I was sure that you could work something out."

"I would that you had been there, Andrew," returned Simon.

"No, it is as well I stayed," he said. "You have the tongue, and my appearance there would only have emphasized what they were losing." Andrew was being diplomatic, thought Nathanael, because he suspected that Andrew in his heart believed that he could do a better job than Simon, who, from the little Nathanael had seen of him, was not the steadiest of all mortals.

Thomas turned to John, who was standing beside him, talking to Ezra, who seemed to attract him--which was all to the good, thought Nathanael. Most would feel that a black man was a curiosity to be looked at from a distance, but not a human who could be befriended. "Which of the two is the older, Simon or Andrew?" asked Thomas.

"Simon, of course."

"Ah, then that explains it."

"What?"

"Why it was that Simon did the talking. One would have thought, just from looking at them, that Andrew would have done a better job." So Thomas had caught the nuance also. Interesting.

John laughed. "Muscles do not necessarily mean diplomatic skills."

"No, what I meant was that Andrew seems--how shall I say it?--in control of things." That was true. Perhaps that was what Nathanael caught as a hint of jealousy.

"Oh, he is. But it is true, Simon has the tongue. Sometimes a bit too much of it. But it seems to have been adequate to the task this time at least."

Ezra remarked, "It is difficult not to judge on first appearances, but the problem is that is difficult to judge correctly on first appearances. Or on appearances at all." Nathanael suspected that this meant that Ezra recognized that none of the rest except John seemed to look on him as fully human, either because of his color, or because he had been a slave. Perhaps both. Nathanael had not, until his eyes were opened. Did he yet, completely?

"That is true," said John, "and it means that I will have to get to know you better. There is much beneath your appearance." So John caught the undertone also--and apparently was intent on doing something about it.

"There is much beneath it," answered Ezra, with one of his brilliant smiles, "that I myself know not."

Nathanael, now that Ezra had been called to his attention, began to think that his relation to him was going to be problematic. He recalled all the things he had done for him that Nathanael had simply taken as a matter of course. How would he manage to do them by himself? Or--

"--Bartholomew wishes the same thing," Ezra was saying to Thomas. His name brought him back into hearing their conversation, but he had no idea what Ezra was talking about. What was he thinking that I wished? he thought. That I could undo my hesitation at saving Samuel? Did he realize that I was afraid?

--But then. why was what others thought of me so important? thought Nathanael. I am what I am, and if they despise me for a coward, they probably were aware of it before I was; I probably gave many signs of it, especially to Ezra, and if he despises me, he cannot despise me more than I despise myself--because after all I let someone die because of it.

Of course, this philosophizing did not take away the pain--if he or--God save us! they, if he was telling them--did know and despise him for what he really was. Perhaps he could succeed--some day--in doing something brave, and then he could at least hold his head up. Perhaps even his father might some day relent.

Perhaps.

Thomas was saying "--all been chosen because we were all slaves to something, and Jesus wished to set us free." God grant that he could set me free! thought Nathanael.

"There may be something in that," said John. "And as to that, if there ever was a free man, it is the Master--and possibly Judas Iscariot."

"Think you?" Now that was interesting, thought Nathanael.

"Why, do you see something in him?"

"No, not really."

"I think," said Ezra, "what Thomas is referring to is what I have noticed from what I have seen of him. Judas is too perfect. He is exceedingly handsome, and brilliant--he is a priest, you know, Thomas."

"No, indeed?"

"Indeed. So in addition to being intelligent, he is very learned. And he is graceful, and apparently strong, and almost anything else you can name--and humble, in the sense that he makes no boasts of his qualities, though he does not deny them. And yet . . . And yet I feel as you do. With the Master, it is different. He is all that Judas is--of course, less strikingly beautiful as a man--but it sits well on him. He is above us, and he knows it, but--how shall I say it?--it does not please him, particularly; it is but a fact. With Judas, it is a fact, and he is quite happy about it."

"Come now, Ezra, you are being unjust," said John.

"Am I? Thomas feels it. Is this not what you feel?" he asked Thomas.

"I have barely seen him, so I could not say. Perhaps we are being unjust, but the vague impression I got was something along the lines you were saying."

"Perhaps we are unjust. But I have had much and much time to study people. I may be mistaken, but I think not." Nathanael did not get that impression about Judas, and could see why John liked him. Perhaps Ezra was right, but perhaps he was a little too ready to see something sinister beneath a person. And perhaps, Nathanael thought, I am a little too ready to see Ezra in this light because I am afraid of what he thinks of me. Reality was an onion; there were always layers underneath whatever one peeled off--and it seemed, the more one peeled, the more tears one shed.

"Well, the Master chose him, and as everyone says, he knows what he is doing." There it was again.

"I wonder. Did the Master choose him--as he clearly chose you and Bartholomew--and me--or did he choose the Master?" A bit too clever, Ezra, thought Nathanael.

"As to that," said Andrew, who had heard the tail end of the conversation and come over to join them, "I was there when John was bathing everyone, and Judas came up to be bathed, just after Jesus. We all thought that it had thundered, and some heard a voice, and there was the bird that John mentioned afterward, which was the sign he had been told to look for--though I hear that he actually knew Jesus before; he was his cousin, or something--and Judas immediately spotted who it was, and after he dried off, asked if he could become a follower of Jesus. Jesus looked at him and said that if he went to Galilee, by the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, he would find him in a month or two. It was only after that that John pointed Jesus out to John and me, and we followed him ourselves."

"Interesting," said Ezra. So he was right, thought Nathanael. Well, he is probably right about me also, so what am I complaining about?

"But the Master does know what he is doing," said Andrew, "and he would not permit himself to be 'chosen' by anyone if he did not wish him to be among us."

"I suppose you are right. You must be right, of course. No one manipulates the Master." Jesus certainly inspired confidence. But Nathanael understood, really. As soon as he saw Jesus, he felt he could trust him. Why, it was difficult to say, but there it was.

"Well I think you are all being hard on Judas for no reason," said John. "I see nothing wrong with him. I like him."

Thomas said, "Oh, we see nothing wrong with him. Just the opposite. Ezra was saying that his problem was that there was too much right with him."

"That sounds to me like nothing but simple jealousy."

"And so it may be, youngster," said Ezra. "Our problem seems to be that we really have nothing much to talk about at the moment except each other--and that inevitably means finding fault with each other." He laughed, and the others joined in. Nathanael fervently wished that he would not start in on him.

Jesus came over and spoke up, to Nathanael's great relief. "We are almost, but not quite, ready to start announcing that the reign of God is just about to begin, and to prepare people to change the way they think about things. Another few days, I expect. But I think we had best put our minds to something more practical: where each of us intends to spend the night--and to see to it that each has a wedding-garment ready on the morrow for the day after.

Nathanael looked over at Thomas, who had a face of supreme consternation, as he looked down at the clothes--Nathanael's father's--that he was wearing, and realized that he had nothing else. Nathanael came over to him and said, "Fear not, Thomas. What you are wearing at the moment will do very nicely. I dare say even that it will surpass many of the others, who, after all, were fishers like you."

The others clearly had their own problems, wondering to each other whether their best clothes would do for wedding garments. The fishermen particularly were not often given to dressing up. One or two of them offered to swap this or that garment for the day. They seemed to come to some sort of resolution that was more or less satisfactory, especially since Judas quite generously let three or four of them borrow some of his clothes. Judas was very well dressed, Nathanael had observed--as had, doubtless, Ezra. Perhaps he too was rich.

The only one who was having any real difficulty was Andrew, who had nothing elegant, and no one else's clothes came even close to fitting him.

Finally, Ezra stepped over and said, "I think I have something that you might be able to use, Andrew, if you do not mind putting on what used to be the livery of a slave. Of course, Bartholomew was always discreet and tasteful, and so it will not look like livery when you are wearing it. It will be a little tight on you, but I think you could get into it."

Andrew looked at him, at first skeptically and then with some confidence at his size. "Why thank you, Ezra, if you think Bartholomew would not mind."

"They are my clothes, Andrew. They only were his."

Andrew flushed. "Of course. I was not thinking. Excuse me."

"Apology accepted." Ezra smiled, and so did Nathanael, but Nathanael's smile was a bit rueful. Here was something more in Ezra's freedom that he had not considered. He had in fact thought of Ezra's clothes as belonging to him, and consequently needing his permission (which he would have readily given, of course) for their disposal, but that was ridiculous. Ezra said, "I will fetch them tonight. I expect that Bartholomew and I will be sleeping in Cana. The wedding itself is in Cana, is it not?" He looked over at Nathanael, who nodded. He was thinking what a relief it would be to be alone in his own bed; he was not used to so much socializing.

"I do not think it worth while to go around to Bethsaida," said Philip. "If one of you can find room for me, I will stay here in Capernaum. In that way, we can be back here early enough tomorrow."

John immediately offered him his house, which had a spare room, and he accepted gladly.

Nathanael looked up at the sky, and said, "But the sun is about to set, and perhaps we had best be started. The hill is a rather long climb, and a bit rough at night. Would you join us, Thomas?"

Thomas noticed that John was coming over as if to invite him also to his own house, but when he heard Nathanael, he turned to make some remark to Simon, and so Thomas said, "Thank you, Nathanael," and went after them as they turned to climb the rather steep ascent.

Thomas then found out that they were not going to the mansion after all, but to the cottage that Nathanael and Ezra occupied. Nathanael saw him glance a bit wistfully at the large house, as if wondering what it was like inside, but he made no sign that he would take him there. It was not what was inside but who.

It occurred to Nathanael as he lay down to sleep that he would like to see what it was that Judas saw in Jesus. He seemed to be learned and intelligent, and would not be likely to attach himself to anyone without careful thought. He then reflected that this thought had probably occurred to him because Ezra had misgivings about Judas, and he was interested in seeing how accurate they were.

Or something. He fell asleep.

He woke to the smell of cooking from the fire outside that Ezra had rekindled. He hastened to get up--and then realized that he should care for his own bed; he no longer had a slave to do it for him. He rather awkwardly put it to rights, and then went out, nodding to Ezra, who had nodded to him (they rarely talked until after they had broken their fast) and went back to the midden in the woods and then the stream where he washed. He must remember to thank Ezra for the breakfast, since now he was doing it as a favor.

He was a person, now, in his own right, and Nathanael had no claim on him, not only for service, but for favors, as evidently the breakfast had been. It would be demeaning to him to hire him to do things, and it would be presumptuous to ask him to do them--especially now that, Nathanael supposed, he precisely wanted to be free of such chores to convince himself that he was free in fact, and now equal to Nathanael.

So far, he had been kind, realizing that Nathanael knew not the first thing about how to prepare breakfast, not to mention the fact that he did not even know what he had to learn; he had simply enjoyed the fruit of Ezra's service; and now he would have to do it all for himself: wash his clothes, prepare his food, buy provisions, see that his sandals were cleaned--heaven knew how much else. It terrified him to think of it, and he wondered how wise he was in suddenly freeing Ezra. Of course, the Master had in effect commanded it, and it was next to impossible to go against a wish of his.

But life had suddenly become complicated in the extreme. He would have to study what the others in the group did, and learn from them, hoping that his awkwardness would not be too obvious.

As he was returning, he passed Thomas, who was obviously in rather a hurry, and they only greeted each other perfunctorily. He did remember to say to Ezra as he reemerged from the woods, "Thank you for cooking breakfast for us," and received in response a smile that rivaled the sunrise. He took some of the fish and bread and wine and sat on the grass, while Ezra finished what he was doing and took his own portion and sat beside him.

Thomas appeared after a very short while, due partly, Nathanael thought, because of the temperature of the stream they bathed in, and Ezra motioned to the fish that he had set aside, and said, "Take some fish and bread," anticipating Nathanael, who was about to make the offer, and who then realized that it was not his to make, and so he simply nodded a kind of agreement, his mouth full. "And water." Nathanael and Ezra, of course, were drinking wine. Thomas took the cup of water and looked rather wistfully at the wineskin, and Nathanael saw him stroke his waist where he evidently had again placed his little wineskin--or his "magic liquid," whatever it was. He sighed and took a bite of the bread, washing it down with the water.

"Thank you, Ezra," he said, when he had eaten a couple of mouthfuls.

"Yes, it was nice of you," echoed Nathanael, somewhat embarrassed. Ezra smiled again, and Nathanael wondered what their relation would be in the future. Clearly, what happened here this morning could not continue, or Ezra's "freedom" was freedom in name only--and Nathanael could see that he knew it, and was wondering if Nathanael did. He wisely had anticipated Nathanael so far, preventing him from telling him by force of habit to do something he had been expected to do.

Could he do all this himself? But how difficult could it be to clean and cook fish? But still, he mentally quaked at the thought; he would burn it, he would leave it undercooked, he would--something. And bread? How did one make it? Leaven and flour and water and salt, that much he knew, but in what proportions? And how did the kneading process work? But women did that, did they not? Perhaps he could get bread for all of them from the house, where the women would make it. Or perhaps he would not have to concern himself at all with such things, if he and the others were going to form a group following Jesus. The group's women there would take care of the domestic matters. Perhaps. In any case, life was going to change drastically very soon; no more days of sitting idly under the fig-tree, looking at the clouds and boats and reading whenever he felt like it.

The prospect filled him with dread.

They began discussing what they were to do that day, and decided that they should go back to Capernaum and probably meet the rest--and receive, no doubt, instructions from Jesus about the feast on the morrow. "It is coming close to Passover," Nathanael remarked, "and I expect that Jesus--and we--will make the journey to Jerusalem to celebrate it. Now that we are a reasonably sized group, plans will have to be made, I think."

"Oh!" said Ezra suddenly. "Speaking of plans, I must not forget the clothes for Andrew! Do you think the white cloak would be best, or the light brown one, Bartholomew?"

"Well," answered Nathanael, "the white looks more festive, I suppose, but the tan one is rather big on you, am I right?"

"I was thinking that very thing. It would still be a little snug on him, I expect, but it should fit him better. Besides," he added, "I would prefer the white for me." He smiled again.

"Then I would say the tan. It will do."

"That was what I thought also. It will be interesting to see how someone else looks in my clothes."

"They will not be able to look as striking, that is certain," said Nathanael.

"Certainly not as striking as I in the white," Ezra grinned.

"I can clean up here," volunteered Thomas, "if you want to prepare things, so that we will not be delayed."

Ezra looked a little surprised, and then said, "Would you? I would appreciate it." He turned to go back into the house, and when he reached the door, he turned back and added, "Very much."

Nathanael said, with a hint of guilt, "He really enjoys being treated as if he were not a slave."

"He does indeed. You might find an occasion, at some time, to thank him for cleaning me yesterday. He told me it was the most disagreeable thing he ever did."

Nathanael's eyes widened. "That is right; I never did thank him! I--I simply expected him to do it, and I had no right to do so!" Another thing! How could he have been so blind?

"He said it was one of the first things he did 'as a person.'"