Three

Nathanael had barely seated himself the next morning, leaning against the trunk of the fig-tree, when Thomas nodded as he went by to his boat.

He settled down to read, a codex this time, and look at the few clouds in the sky as he turned the pages; and then his eyes went to the boats out on the "sea," and he lost the train of what he was reading, and began to muse over his new companions--and his old predicament. His father was becoming insistent, and Nathanael was concocting a plan to try to convince him that it would be a good idea for him to become a scribe. Scribes did nothing much but write down what people said, and spend the rest of their time reading. It sounded like something Nathanael would be able to stand.

The day passed as always, and as the twins walked home, Thomas again hung back, and there seemed to be a purposiveness in it that Nathanael, nervous about what he would be asked for,braced himself to meet.

After a few pleasantries, it came out. Thomas almost blurted, "Nathanael, do you think that you could do a favor for me?"

Nathanael tried not to show the nervous twitch that went through him. It was absurd, how he felt. "It depends," he answered. "If it involves work, probably not. I have not yet reconciled myself to the idea of work."

"I would like to have a skin of wine for my own--I can pay for it--but I would prefer that people did not know I had it." Oh, that was it. It was worse than he had feared, in a sense. It would not be difficult to do, but would he be abetting a person's turning into a copy of his mother?

"Oh ho!" he replied, trying to make a joke of it. "The secret drinker, is it?"

"No, nothing of the sort." answered Thomas rather too hastily. "But a swallow of wine in the morning, for instance, would make the day go by a bit more easily. But my father would be shocked if I asked for such a thing from him. And Samuel--" he could think of no way to finish the sentence.

"And Samuel doubtless is of the same mind as your father. It is interesting how you are twins in body, but I gather not in mind." Nathanael was temporizing, and he knew it.

"Well, we do think alike in many ways. But not all."

"Especially where wine is involved."

"I would not say 'especially.' But--in any case, I would rather they not know I had it." But, thought Nathanael, if I do not supply it, he would find another way. And perhaps I could control the supply so that it would do no real damage. The picture of his mother rose between them, and made him almost hate Thomas for doing this to him.

But what he said was, "Clearly. Well, my inclination is to agree somewhat with your father." But before Thomas could reply, he went on, "But not enough to refuse. But why do you not ask Philip? His family are wine merchants."

Obviously, Thomas did not know this. But it was clear that on a moment's consideration, he realized he could not trust Philip's discretion. He said, "Do you suppose that you could ask him, as if for yourself? Or perhaps Ezra could?" In the slight pause that followed, Nathanael smiled at Thomas's reading of his character. "--And then give it to me? I would repay you, of course."

"I see. Philip's ears are apt to be a highway to his tongue, you mean. So I am the one who is to have the reputation of being the secret drinker, is it?"

"You need not make a secret of it--for yourself. And a skin of wine does not make one a drunk!"

"True, one does not. But one and one and one. . . who knows?" That was indeed the problem. It was in one sense a choice in helping Thomas to become a drunk, or perhaps preventing him from becoming one by controlling his supply. Nathanael was torn. Thomas looked at him in disgust. "Forget it. Forget I asked."

Controlling the supply won. "Thomas, your life is your life, and no concern of mine." That was a lie. The request to him, of all people, made it his concern. "I was merely remarking. If you really want wine, I am sure that you will find a way to have it, whether I help you or not. I see no reason for not doing what you ask--especially as I need not actually do anything but ask Philip."

Thomas was not completely mollified by this answer, but he seemed to accept it, and smiled in a secret way at the prospect of having a supply of wine. Nathanael cringed inwardly. What had he involved himself in?

Nathanael did not sleep most of that night; the vision of his mother years ago--the way she was even now, half stupefied all the time--haunted him, and he kept telling himself that Thomas was not going to turn into what she was. Many people who liked wine led perfectly normal lives. But something inside him said, "But those who drink in secret?" And he answered himself, "But he cares not that I know." But that was no answer, he was aware, because someone had to know about it for Thomas to have access to the wine.

Well, he would be sure to ask Philip for an expensive wine, one that Thomas could barely afford; Philip would expect it of him, for one thing, since his family only had the best, and since Thomas had said he would pay for it, this would limit his ability to obtain much.

And so when he saw Philip the next day, he ordered a skin of wine, and was himself a little surprised at the price. But it was probably something Thomas could afford--barely.

He told Thomas that evening that he had nothing at the moment, but that he had asked Philip, and hoped to have a skin on the morrow. Thomas asked him how much it would be.

"Oh, forget the price," he said. "It is my pleasure."

"No, indeed," said Thomas. Nathanael understood; he had only offered the wine as a gift for form's sake. "This is business. We must make it a transaction, not a mark of friendship."

Nathanael laughed. "Very well. The secret drinker is at least an honest secret drinker." He named the price. Thomas's eyes widened. He gulped and said, "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow." Nathanael could almost see Thomas calculating and considering how often he could do this.

And on the morrow, he had his wineskin, and Nathanael noticed the pride with which he claimed it as his own possession, which he had worked to earn. There was not much conversation that day, however; he went home immediately, obviously to put it in some hiding-place that he had devised.

Nathanael and Philip were waiting for him the next day, and Philip, of course, gave no indication that Thomas had anything to do with any wine, because Nathanael had kept his part of the bargain. In fact, Philip had earlier looked rather suspiciously at Nathanael, to see if he was abusing the wine he had sold him, and it was all Nathanael could do not to feign feeling the effects. But this was too serious a subject. He could imagine Philip telling his father, and what would happen after that was not to be thought of.

But then Nathanael, somewhat to his amusement, found himself looking at Thomas a bit closely as they met, as if wondering if he had had too much to drink. Thomas perhaps was a bit more relaxed than usual, but certainly in control of himself. No damage had been done--as yet.

As the year went on, there did not seem to be any inordinate purchases of wine; a bit more than an abstemious person, perhaps--especially given the fact that Thomas, at his age, was having the normal serving of (somewhat watered) wine at meals, but he did not show any obvious effects of it beyond a slight slowing of his speech. Samuel, from what Nathanael could see as they walked by, especially in the morning, did not seem to detect anything, and Nathanael suspected that he would, since it seemed that Thomas was the one who ordinarily cast the net, which required a good deal of skill. So far, at least, so good. But it was a worry.

Thomas and Samuel seemed to be doing rather well as they progressed through their teen years; the catches grew larger and larger. Every now and then, they went home with their father, the evening meal squirming in the pail between them. Generally, however, the father stayed behind to take the rest of the catch to the merchants, to be sold to the women who came to the shore to argue over the price.

As for Nathanael himself, his father, after an inordinate number of verbal battles and beratings, seemed finally to have given up on him, merely looking at him with disgust during the evening meal, resigned to the fact that he had an incorrigibly lazy son, who never could do anything right when he was asked, and thus was more of a hindrance than a help. Nathanael felt he could tolerate this opprobrium; it was a small enough price to pay for days beneath the fig tree.

The arrangement he had with Thomas turned out to be, as a whole, eminently satisfactory. When Thomas needed another wineskin, Nathanael would oblige, only occasionally warning him that his purchases were becoming more frequent, after which Thomas would cut back. Nathanael, thus, and, he suspected Samuel, served as his brakes, because once or twice he overheard a snatch of morning conversation where Samuel was complaining how he was becoming clumsy and less observant.

Nathanael, of course, secretly decried what he was doing, but felt he would get nowhere by preaching. (He had tried lecturing his mother, and the result was simple denial of the obvious. And look at his father's success with him.) So he reluctantly cooperated with the scheme. Philip still believed that it was Nathanael who drank the wine and did not want his parents to know; and so, though Philip mentioned the purchases in a worried voice every now and then to Nathanael, he never said a word to Thomas, because he thought Thomas knew nothing about them.

One day, Thomas, who now habitually stayed behind to talk to Nathanael (leaving Samuel, resigned to the friendship, to precede him home alone), contemplated Nathanael reading a scroll, as was his wont more and more frequently, and on an impulse, asked him, "Is it hard to learn to read?"

"Not very," answered Nathanael. This was an unexpected development. "Hebrew is much easier than Egyptian, for instance, for the Hebrew letters stand for the sounds of the words, not the whole word, as the Egyptian characters do, they tell me."

"Show me."

"Well, here is an easy word. This is a daleth, which is a 'duh,' and this is a vav, or a 'vuh' and then another daleth. 'Duh, vuh, duh.' What do you suppose that word is? Say it quietly to yourself. You have to add the open sounds in between."

"Open sounds?"

"Things like 'ah' and 'eh' and 'ih.'"

"I do not understand."

"Well, in my name there is 'nuh,' and then 'ah,' which is an open sound, and then 'thuh' and then another open 'ah' and another 'nuh' and an open 'ah' and then an open 'eh' and then a 'luh' 'N-a-th-a-n-a-e-l.'"

"Oh."

"And of course, 'oh' is an open sound. You say it with your mouth open. The only sounds that have letters are the other ones, where your mouth is closed. And so 'd-v-d' would be what?"

Thomas made a few attempts at saying the consonants over to himself, and said again, "I do not understand."

"Let me give you a hint. "Dav-d"

"You mean "David?"

"You see? I am reading about David and Bathsheba."

"Teach me how to read."

Nathanael looked at him. Could he do it? "You are serious?"

"Quite serious. I wish to learn to read."

"So the secret drinker is going to become the secret scholar."

"There need be nothing secret about this. It would help in our business if one of us could read. My father makes attempts at it, but is not very good."

"And it would also help, I suspect, in getting oneself out of the business."

He could see that this hit a little too close to home, and Thomas squirmed and said, "Will you teach me to read, or not?"

Would this be another thing he was going to fail at? His immediate impulse was to refuse. How could he--but then, he knew what his tutor did with him; he need but repeat it. Who knew? Perhaps there was one thing he could succeed at--and it would be better than "succeeding" in turning Thomas into a drunk--which seemed, little by little, to be happening. Perhaps even he might reverse that.

"Let me think on it. It might be amusing. --If you are intelligent, as you seem to be. If not, it sounds like work, and so far I have avoided all contact with work."

"Try me."

He noticed Thomas glance up in Ezra's direction, and thought, "Oho! So I am to have two students. Now I have a secret drinker and soon I will also have a secret reader--perhaps. Well, we shall see." He did not really have any objection to Ezra's reading, and supposed that eventually he would give him his freedom, or Ezra would somehow save enough to buy it. And if he were a free man, he could use the skill.

"Well, if I decide to do so, I will be here tomorrow with a small wax tablet for you, with the alphabet on it. I will tell you the names of the letters and what sounds they make, and you are to memorize them, and then we will see whether it is worth while to continue."

Thomas went home elated. Nathanael tried to glance over at Ezra as they climbed the considerable distance up the hill to the mansion, but he kept himself, as usual, rather behind his master, and Nathanael could not get a good look at him without betraying the fact that he knew that something was probably afoot.

They now lived in an outbuilding of the mansion; Thomas's father had one day declared that he found the sight of his idle son offensive, and had said, "I would not turn you out, but henceforth, you can live in the cottage, so that I need not look at you." Ezra, of course, had made the small place into something quite comfortable for the two of them, and now acted as Nathanael's private cook and chambermaid--though again, there was little to do, because Nathanael's wants were few, and though the food was excellent quality (Ezra would see to that, if only for his own satisfaction), the preparation was relatively simple. The housekeeping, of course, required very little work, because now Nathanael spent all of his time under the fig tree. Occasionally, on a pleasant night, he even slept there on the ground, with Ezra cooking a sort of rustic supper.

That night, Nathanael retrieved the old wax tablet and stylus his tutor had supplied to him, with the idea, as a test, to put the alphabet on it and see if Thomas could memorize it in one night (and Ezra, he supposed, on one seeing. It would be a challenge for him). He noticed Ezra doing something as he prepared, and supposed he was finding something he could write on surreptitiously. This might even be fun.

The next evening when Thomas stopped, he showed him the tablet, and very carefully went over letter by letter, pronouncing the name of each one and its sound, making Thomas repeat what he said after him, tilting the tablet so that Ezra could get a look at it too without seeming to do so.

At one point, he caught Thomas shyly glanced toward Ezra, and then after a moment, quickly appear to be absorbed in what Nathanael was doing. It rather added to the zest that Ezra thought he was keeping his interest secret from Nathanael, while all the time, it was Nathanael who was keeping the secret.

Ezra absented himself that night, saying that, since it was such a bright, moonlit evening, he would take a little walk before he went to bed, and promptly disappeared into the shadows behind the house. Nathanael could imagine him saying the letters over and over to himself, and drawing them in the dirt in a spot lit by the moonlight. He felt elated. He was actually accomplishing something. Of course, all might come a cropper if Thomas could not memorize the alphabet, but he seemed quick enough--and Nathanael was convinced that Ezra was quite intelligent enough to profit from what was going on.

As Nathanael suspected, Thomas was letter-perfect the next day, and so the classes commenced seriously. It was actually a bit of work on Nathanael's part, thinking of what to teach day by day, but he had a good memory, and for practical purposes simply copied what his tutor had taught him. He could not give Thomas too much work, it seemed; no matter what he assigned, Thomas had it by heart the next day. And so did Ezra, Nathanael surmised, because if he could not keep up, he would have given up his nightly "walks" or his going to bed (in his own room) early and rising rather more tired than one would expect from it.

So all in all, it was supremely satisfactory. Perhaps Nathanael would become a tutor when he had to make a living for himself--if ever. Philip, it turned out as time passed, sat in on a "class" or two, but could not keep up with the others, and had his own tutor in any case.

After a while, Thomas would bring home a scroll that Nathanael had lent him, and begin reading real books, not simply exercises that Nathanael wrote on his tablet.

Thomas was startled one day when Philip told him that Greek used entirely different letters, "And they write backwards!" he exclaimed. "And Latin is the same! I see what they are doing in my father's shop. He wishes me to learn Greek and Latin also."

"How will you do that?"

"Oh, he has hired a tutor for me. --Why do you nod thus when you speak?"

"Nod?"

"When you speak, you nod your head. For instance, when you just said "that," you nodded, and with your huge nose, it looked as if you were trying to chop at me."

Thomas's face burned scarlet. He turned aside without a word and went home.

"Philip," said Nathanael in his admonitory voice.

"What? Did I say something again?"

"You most certainly did."

"Well, what he does is annoying, and he probably does not realize he is doing it."

"True, but people do not like to have their faults pointed out to them. Do you like what I am telling you now?"

"It does not bother me."

Nathanael looked at him, and then said, "No, I suppose it would not. But it might bother others."

"People should not be so sensitive."

"They should not. But many are. Believe me."

"Very well. I will apologize tomorrow."

"No, no! That would only compound the problem. Pretend that nothing happened."

"I do not see the point. But if you say so."

"If he does not bring it up, simply ignore it."

"Well I hope he stops chopping at me."

And for a while, Thomas did stop, but evidently found it too much of an effort, and gradually went back to his habit of emphasizing points with a nod of his head.

All this while, the wineskins were spreading their warmth and relaxation over Thomas, apparently not hindering much either his fishing or his studies. Nathanael saw what was going on, but did not think that there was anything much to worry about. Thomas was as sharp as ever at his studies.

And thus things passed for two or three years, with Thomas learning more and more and gradually weaning himself away from Nathanael's instruction and using him only as a kind of library, supplying books.