Three

After Thomas and his brother officially became men, they received as a present their own small fishing boat. The child-sized nets which they had been practicing on were replaced with almost-adult-sized ones (the full-sized nets being too large to be manipulated by their thirteen-year-old arms), and they were expected to put out into the lake daily to add to the catch of their elders in the real boats.

It was, of course, a great honor, and both appreciated it, Samuel, it must be said, rather more than Thomas, who looked on the life of serious work with dismay. Samuel, who loved the "sea" and everything about it, including the work, assumed that Thomas felt as he did, and Thomas kept his misgivings to himself. What was the point of airing them and merely getting into a dispute about what could not be helped?

There was one bright spot in this, however. Since they were workers in their own right now, they received a small amount of money for their toil, depending on their catch, and this kept Thomas working with a certain fervor, since he saw the coins as the avenue toward wine when he wanted it. True, he had to find ways to purchase it without anyone's knowing, but an opportunity soon presented itself.

There was an idler a year or two older than they, named Nathanael (as Thomas discovered from a rather disdainful remark from his father), who took to sitting under a fig-tree near where they moored the boat, watching them as they left in the morning and returned at sunset. He was tall for his age, and rather paler than most (the result, his father said, of staying indoors or lazing under the fig-tree). Perhaps he seemed light-skinned in comparison with his constant, silent companion, a boy about his age, but with extremely dark, not to say black, skin (a slave, his father speculated, from Ethiopia, wherever that was), a shortish person, who stood apart, usually in the sun, but was immediately beside Nathanael when called. His name appeared to be Ezra, or something similar, from the few glimpses Thomas got of the pair as he passed.

At first, the boys ignored him, but Thomas gradually wondered what he did with himself all day long, and whether he actually escaped working, as he seemed to be doing. Samuel, catching his father's implicit disapproval, only looked in his direction with scorn, considering him to be one of those who lives off others.

One day on coming home, as it happened with very few fish to carry, Thomas nodded to Nathanael as he passed the tree, and he nodded back. Thomas saw his supply of wine in the offing. "Not much today, I observe," said Nathanael.

"No, they all decided that they did not like this part of the sea today," said Thomas. "They went to visit their relatives on the other side."

"It looks like back-breaking work, what you do," remarked the other, and Thomas hung back to speak to him. Samuel looked back at them with contempt, and went along by himself toward the house, carrying the pail with the pathetic catch. "It is hard enough," said Thomas in answer, "but it keeps one strong."

Nathanael was not only rather tall, but a lean individual with a long face, which did not yet have the shadow on his chin of the beard that was to come. He reminded Thomas a little of a serpent as he lounged there; he seemed to flow over his surroundings as a serpent did--though there was nothing sinister about him; it was merely an impression of fluidity. His voice even had a kind of liquid quality about it.

"I marvel at people like you," he said, and picked a blade of grass and put it in his mouth.

"What do you do with yourself all day?" asked Thomas. "I see you here in the morning, and also at night when we come home."

Nathanael looked up at him. "Oh, I read sometimes, but mostly I watch the sky and the birds, and the people who go by. I see them all so concentrated on what they are doing, and wonder how they can care so much for--for fish, for instance."

"I care little for fish, myself," said Thomas. "But one must eat, you know."

"Oh, I know, and I am grateful for people like you; without you I would probably starve."

"You need not work, then."

"No, thank the Master. I suppose one of these days I will find something to do to justify my existence, but I have not yet discovered anything that suits me as yet. Since I began to learn to read, the thought occurred to me that perhaps I will wind up as a scribe--or, who knows, a famous writer like Qoheleth or someone."

"Qoheleth?"

"Know you not? 'Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity.'"

"Oh, that. I think I heard it once."

"I rather think that if anything is true, that is. At least, based on my own experience."

"I really know nothing about it. Where do you live?"

"That big house on the hill back there. I come here mainly to escape it."

"That house? What could it have that makes one wish to escape it?"

"You would be surprised. It is not what it is, but who lives there."

He did not seem disposed to elaborate, and so Thomas said, "Then you must be rich. They tell me that that family has enormous amounts of money. Is that why--" and he looked over at Ezra.

"Is Ezra my slave, do you mean? Yes, my father made a trip to Ethiopia some years ago and bought him for me, as a kind of curiosity. I call him my shadow."

Thomas who had, of course, no idea where Ethiopia was, was a little shocked at someone's actually being bought, though he was aware that people who had money owned slaves. He had never actually seen one before, however. He was also rather embarrassed by their speaking of Ezra as if he were a donkey or a tree, and not a person who could understand them; but Nathanael seemed quite comfortable referring to him as if he were nothing but a tool he happened to own.

"Is he--is he one of us?" asked Thomas.

"You mean, is he a Judean? Oh, yes. That is, an Israelite. He seems to think his ancestors belonged to the tribe of Dan and went into Egypt and then up the Nile River to Ethiopia to escape the wars when Israel broke from Judah, I think it was. I suppose they intermarried, at least some of them, with the people around them, and got the black skin. My father tells me that everyone there is black. But he is even more observant of the Law than I am."

"What does he do?"

"Nothing much, actually, since I do nothing much. Occasionally I send him to the house to fetch me a scroll in case I feel like reading; but mostly he simply stands there in case I require anything--which I never do. And as Qoheleth said, 'This too is vanity.'"

"I would not know, myself. We work hard for what we have, which is little enough. Though we cannot really complain. They give me some money of my own now, and I almost know not how to spend it."

"Then you and I are in the same situation. I cannot understand those people who must have more and more of things they cannot use. I can have whatever I want, but I find that I want very little--the opportunity to sit here and look at the sky and what passes. And that cannot be bought."

Thomas, seeing that the conversation had circled back to where they started, looked up at the now darkening sky and said that he must be getting home, because it was nearly time to eat. Nathanael waved a hand, as if to give him permission to leave, and they parted.

The days after that, Thomas passed a word or two with Nathanael, wondering how he could work a conversation around into asking Nathanael to buy some wine for him, and to keep it quiet. It turned out that it was a considerable problem, since Nathanael was usually rather taciturn--pleasant enough, but content to sit there under his favorite fig tree saying nothing, unless there was something significant to say. In that case, he would deliver himself of a pithy statement that got right to the heart of whatever it was they were talking about, and again lapse into silence.

He had, it turned out, a friend who joined him upon occasion, a voluble sort, to whom he would listen in amused way for hours on end. Philip, who explained that his name was Greek "and it means 'lover of horses,' though why I am supposed to be a horse-lover I cannot imagine; I have never yet been on one, and, truth be told, they rather frighten me, they are so huge." Thomas observed that his face, however, had a certain resemblance to a horse, somehow; it was long, and the eyes were wide, as if he were in constant wonderment at the world.

"Clearly you, like the Caesarea up north," said Nathanael, "were named for the tetrarch Philip, who in turn was named after Philip of Macedon, the father of Alexander, whom we all know and love. It has nothing to do with horses."

Thomas had no idea who this "Alexander" was, but inferred that he was someone from history, and since he was from Macedon (which he had heard about once), must have been a conqueror of some sort. The pronouncement of Nathanael was a bit of a conversation-stopper, and no one said anything for several minutes. Thomas gave no indication of unease, however, though Philip fidgeted a bit.

Thomas was not certain whether he liked Philip or not; he quickly discovered that he was--not exactly slow, but quite naive and literal, and almost invited teasing. Double meanings, the delight of people of the boys' age, were completely lost on him.

Shortly, for the sake of saying something, Philip sniffed and said, "Ah, you fish! Do you know Andrew and Simon, sons of Jonah?"

"I have not met them, but I have heard the names," answered Thomas.

"They fish also, you know, and live in my town of Bethsaida. Also James and John, sons of Zebedee; they are partners."

"Yes, my father says they have quite a business, with a number of hired hands. They are our rivals, and we do not have much to do with them."

"A pity. They are very interesting people. John's father is about to send him away to Jerusalem to study to be a rabbi or something. It seems they know the high priest's family, and they can make it easy for him to enter the rabbinic circle."

"You see? They are not of our class. We would have no contact with such as they."

"They are certainly not proud. They put up with me, for instance--as does Nathanael here."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Nathanael. "Put up with you! Why should I not 'put up with you?' I find you refreshing, among other things." Even though Thomas knew that Nathanael was rich, it had not occurred to him until that moment that he was of a different class of people from himself, and that in the normal course of things, would not have spoken to him. He looked at him for a moment almost with awe.

In some confusion, Thomas blurted, "Well, I must go home and wash for the evening meal."

"I suppose we must all do so," replied Nathanael, looking up at the sky, oblivious to any consternation he may have noticed in Thomas. Ezra immediately stirred behind them. "Until tomorrow, then, both of you."

"I will not be here tomorrow," answered Philip. "I must work."

So Thomas was not the only working man, he thought as he walked back to his house, wondering what it was that Philip did, but not really caring a great deal. The fact that Nathanael would be alone the next day, and might not be so on days to come made Thomas decide that he had to broach the subject of buying wine.

He nodded the next morning to Nathanael, who was already there, sitting against the trunk of his favorite fig-tree, with a scroll that he evidently was going to read. Samuel noticed, and said as they got into the boat, "Why do you waste your time with him? He is nothing but an idler."

"He is an interesting person. He is rich, you know, and he can read; he belongs in that huge house up on the hill."

"I am surprised he bothers to notice you."

"I am a bit surprised myself; but he acts as if he were no different from one of us--except that he need not work. I think that, even though he has no desire to work, he rather admires those who do it. And anyway, it seems to me that it might be useful to know those who have wealth, for they have power."

"What can that matter to the likes of us? Unless you plan to 'get on in the world,' as they say."

"Well, just because my father--and my brother--are fishers, it does not follow that I am doomed to be a fisher all my life."

"I see no 'doom' about it. It is a living, and a very good one, in comparison with many."

"Oh, I have no real problem with it. It is just that I would prefer not revealing my occupation to others' noses." The remark of Philip had stung. It had not previously occurred to Thomas that he stank of fish, since all those around him except Nathanael also smelled the same, and Nathanael had made no remark--of course, Thomas reflected, he doubtless would not, since Thomas assumed that well-bred people did not allude to such things--and besides, Nathanael could see the two of them go out every day from his perch on the shore. Perhaps he even chose that spot because he could watch them; he had to do something to while away the time.

They settled down to work, and by the end of the day they had a reasonable catch of fish, enough so that they took it to their father's boat when he came back and added it to the family's harvest for the day. Their father praised them, and turned back to the boat to put things to rights for the night, while the boys, who had already done so with their boat, set off for home.

But again Thomas hung back, determined to see if he could inveigle Nathanael into buying him a skin of wine; he thought he had enough money saved.

After a few pleasantries, Thomas, who could think of no subtle way of bringing up the subject said, "Nathanael, do you think that you could do a favor for me?"

"It depends. 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 ho! 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."

"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."

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

Indeed, thought Thomas. But then, could Philip be relied upon to keep quiet? "Do you suppose that you could ask him, as if for yourself? Or perhaps Ezra could?" It occurred to Thomas that if Nathanael actually did anything, even something so simple as asking for wine, it would actually be Ezra who acted. "--And then give it to me?" he went on. "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?"

Thomas looked at him in disgust. "Forget it. Forget I asked."

"Thomas, your life is your life, and no concern of mine. 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 it did not really matter, since within a day or two he would have a skin of wine and a way of getting a constant supply--"which I do not really want," he told himself as he walked home, after spending a few more moments with Nathanael, "but only something to help me now and then. I will be very careful. I must be very specially careful from now on, since it will be too easy for others to discover what I am doing. Perhaps the smell of fish is not all that bad, after all." He smiled to himself.

"You seem to have enjoyed your conversation with that Nathanael today," observed Samuel when he arrived and had washed for the evening meal. "What were you speaking of?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. Have you seen his friend Philip?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"The rather shorter one with the long face? You seem to be collecting quite a conversational group."

"There are only the three of us."

"Four."

"Oh, that is Ezra, Nathanael's slave."

"The black one?"

"He calls him his 'shadow.'"

"I can see why. So you know someone who has a slave."

"But the point is that he is not one of us; he is just there, to do errands if Nathanael wants anything. Philip is the son of--" he was about to say "a wine-merchant," but amended it--"a merchant. I think Nathanael enjoys Philip more than I do--and it seems, more than he likes me, in truth. He is a bit--how shall I say?--young for his age. Everything seems to be new and surprising to him. I feel--sorry--for him in one way, because some day someone may take advantage of him."

"Indeed? Be careful, if you are going to be his protector, that someone does not take advantage of you while he is at it."

"Oh, I plan to be very careful, never fear," said Thomas, secretly proud of the double entendre.

The next day, Nathanael had nothing, but mentioned 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. He would be eager enough to "forget the price," but for two reasons: He intended this to continue, and one could only expect such generosity once or twice; and secondly, as he told Nathanael, "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. "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow." The price was somewhat more than Thomas expected--he supposed because Nathanael would have asked for the best wine. But it was within his means, if he did not do this often, and so he was content.

And on the morrow, he had his wineskin, which he had no trouble concealing in the hollow tree (after taking a good swallow; it was excellent, as he had supposed), because Samuel could not be bothered waiting for him to "waste time" with Nathanael.

When he met Nathanael and Philip the next day, Philip gave no indication that Thomas had anything to do with any wine, and so Nathanael had apparently kept that part of the bargain. Nathanael looked at him a bit closely as they met, as if wondering if he had had too much to drink, but Thomas had been very careful, and that morning had only swallowed enough so that he felt a bit warmer than ususal, and a trifle more relaxed.

All this was to the good, since it meant that the wine would last longer, and no one would detect him, not even Samuel--who, it must be said, had long since left off being suspicious of him. He no longer casually got close enough to him to smell his breath surreptitiously, something that used to annoy Thomas no end without his being able to complain about it, since he was not supposed to be able to notice it.

The greater relaxation also had the effect of making his casts of the net more skilled, and from then on, while Samuel plied the oars, he did most of the netting (of course, Samuel helped haul the net in). Samuel was beginning to outstrip Thomas in the development of his shoulders and chest, and they began to look a bit less like mirror images of each other, especially when stripped for fishing.

As the year went on, having the wineskin in the hollow tree in the woods became more and more of a problem, because, for one thing, Thomas began to feel the need of a bit of a boost while they were out in the boat, and for another, it seemed to Thomas that he looked suspicious, wandering off into the woods. One could only use the excuse of relieving oneself so often, even if bolstered by intimations of a tendency toward diarrhea. So far, Samuel had not shown any sign that something might be amiss, but one never knew, and Thomas's watchword was "careful."

In his musings about the difficulty as he was casting the net, the thought occurred to him that if he had a small skin that he could conceal inside his cloak, all would be solved. And the very next day, as it happened, the solution was handed into his arms. His mother gave him the entrails of a sheep she had been preparing for dinner as a special treat, and told him to burn them out in the back.

As he carried them out, he happened to notice the bladder of the animal; it looked almost like a wineskin, though rounder, and was of a perfect size for concealment under his cloak, if he did not fill it full. Not even Samuel would be able to detect it. He separated it out and burned the rest of the offal as he was told, and then took the bladder to the brook and washed it inside and out as thoroughly as he could, leaving it in the hollow tree, to deal with later.