Eight

At this point Ezra entered, ushered in by the woman--apparently Leah--who had on her face an expression, if anything, of even more shock at seeing a black man than she evinced at first seeing Thomas. But this apparition at least did not scream, and spoke politely, if with a slight accent to his Aramaic.

"Master Thomas!" he exclaimed. "You have come back!" He beamed as he looked at him, and then turned to Jesus. "I knew you could do it."

Jesus answered, "He was just remarking that both you and he had been set free, but neither of you knew quite what to make of it."

Ezra's teeth gleamed in another of his brilliant smiles, "That is true. One dreams of it and dreams of it, but once it happens, one wonders if perhaps the old life was not more comfortable."

"It is always easier," said Jesus, "not to have responsibility for one's actions, and to have someone else to blame when something goes wrong."

"You have introduced me to a world of worry. Shall I do this? Shall I not? What happens if I do? Who am I? I now must be someone. Yesterday, I was but a--dog. A well-fed, rather pampered dog, but not really someone. When I thought of that, I wanted to run away, so that I could be someone--a person. And now that I have become a person, I know not what to do with myself."

Nathanael looked at him with surprise, "Did I in truth treat you like a dog?"

"I cast no blame on you; you could not help it, and you treated me well. You never abused me, as many masters abuse their slaves. Of course, I always did what you asked, and did it well."

"That is certainly true," said Nathanael.

"What I meant was, that I was simply--there. To do what you wanted done. Why should you have thought that I might have desires of my own, and even ambitions? I was your slave; I existed to do what you wished." Thomas remembered Ezra secretly learning to read.

Nathanael was struck with what he said, as if it were a completely new idea. "It never occurred to me!" he exclaimed.

"Of course. Why should it? A slave is a slave, not someone whose wishes should be taken into account. He is not a person; he is an animal one owns and trains. A good man does not mistreat animals, and he does not mistreat slaves. He may even have affection for them; but he does not--how shall I say it?--consult a slave, even when he seeks advice from him. Perhaps I can explain myself in this way: when Master Thomas is standing there beside you, you would never speak of him to someone else as if he were not even there, and describe him as you would speak of your donkey."

"Did I act thus?" Nathanael's face registered astonishment, and then flamed.

"As I said, I do not blame you for it--now. If I put myself in your place, I see that I might do the same thing. And, if it is any comfort to you, it is no easier if we happened to be the same color; I was a slave in Ethiopia also for a number of years--your father bought me from my black owner--and he, of course, had the same attitude. One cannot treat a slave as a person and still own him as a slave, because if he is a person, then his own desires and ambitions matter, and that automatically means he is not one's slave. One must ignore the will of the slave in order for him to be a slave."

"Please accept my apologies," said Nathanael. "It was in ignorance I acted--There is so much of my life that I now hate!--and I find that I must learn to become acquainted with this stranger that I thought I knew! (looking at Ezra) Not to mention that I must learn to become acquainted with myself!"

"Becoming one's true self," said Jesus, "always involves rejecting and repudiating what one thought was his true self. You cannot find yourself until you cast yourself aside."

"That certainly seems to be the case," said Nathanael after some reflection, and both others nodded agreement. "But it is not merely that. I had no idea, Ezra, that you were so intelligent. I knew you were clever, but not that you were such a philosopher!"

"We all have much to learn, I think," answered Ezra.

"And Aristotle wrote that slaves were like children!" said Nathanael. "Nature made them a lower form of humanity, he said."

"Well, I know many slaves who are like children," replied Ezra, "because, since their masters never think they have minds of their own, they begin to act as if they have no minds of their own, and certainly no will of their own, because it is easier, since otherwise they are rebels, and rebellious slaves live lives of misery. So they make themselves into animals because it is what is expected of them. I was fortunate in that I was convinced I was as much of a man as anyone else, despite my condition--and my color--even if I never acted rebelliously. The Lord knew."

"He did indeed," said Jesus.

"But still, I am now an infant, learning to live."

"As are we all," said Thomas and Nathanael.

Ezra turned to Thomas, "Do you object to my calling you simply Thomas? It feels so strange to me, but I suppose I must get used to it."

"Not at all. Why should you call me Master? If anything, I am the one who is--was, I hope--an animal. Worse than an animal."

"You were accursed," said Jesus.

"I find it difficult to--to blame something other than myself. I could have stopped."

"It seems so to you now," answered Jesus. "But you could not. You remember, you tried once and failed."

"Well, yes, but I used the excuse that I was making everyone else miserable to go back to drinking. I was not blameless."

"Not blameless, no. But the curse was acting far more powerfully than you know to lead you to what you thought was a decision."

Thomas pondered this for a while. "If you say so, Master." The thought suddenly occurred to him how incredible it was that Jesus should know this about his past. Who was this man?

"The point is that whatever blame you did have is forgiven; it is gone. It is useless to look back on it and wonder how much there was; it is forgiven, whatever it was. The newborn does not contemplate life in the womb; he looks ahead to the world he is to conquer."

"Which is exactly what terrifies me." And he forgives sins? Is that not what he has just claimed? That whatever sin was involved is forgiven? Or was it that he somehow knew that God had forgiven me? But how?

"And me" said the other two in unison.

"Fear not. Trust, and all will be well. Difficult, perhaps, but well."

"As Thomas said," answered Nathanael, "What alternative do we have?"

Thomas thought, however, that trusting Jesus meant a great deal more than appeared even now. Jesus was taking all this quite calmly, as a matter of course. But it implied something about him that boggled the mind. Or perhaps he was being carried away by the fact that Jesus had cured him--if he had. It was all so confusing! But what alternative was there?

"Then perhaps" Jesus was answering Nathanael, "you two can take Thomas to meet the others and tell them they have a new companion. I have a few things to do here before I join you. Philip will be rather surprised, I think."

"Is Philip another follower of yours?" exclaimed Thomas.

"Oh, yes. In fact, I called him before Nathanael; he was the one who found him for me. You will--well, all will be well there also, after a bit. You know Philip, so brace yourself at first. You might even reflect that if one takes a certain attitude," and he cast a glance at Nathanael, "one might find him refreshing." Again, how did he know?

But the fact that they had clearly been dismissed prevented them (to Nathanael's relief) from pursuing the point. Thomas was not so sure, however, that he could have the "certain attitude" Jesus mentioned, since he had sometimes been the victim of Philip's "refreshing" ways. Well, he would see, and, as Jesus advised, brace himself.

As they walked along, an idea occurred to Thomas, and he looked over at Nathanael and said, "You know Greek, do you not?"

"A little. I can manage in it. Why?"

"What is the Greek word for 'twin'?"

"Twins? Didymoi."

"I mean a twin. One of them."

"Ah. I see. What are you, in other words."

"Exactly."

"Didymus. Do you ask thus for the reason I suspect?"

"Well, when you told Ezra to call you Bartholomew, it seemed to me that you were giving a new name to that new person that you were starting to be, and it had something to do with remembering your father. So I thought that perhaps I should have a new name also to go with my new life. And I would have others remember the other twin that I--divorced myself from."

That sobered them from conversation for a bit, though Ezra seemed to be pondering. "I suspect I will still be called Ezra," he said finally, "though before I was merely a kind of pet with that name." He smiled. "I thought, perhaps, of calling myself Nehemiah, but I doubt if anyone would understand the joke."

Thomas certainly did not, but Nathanael grinned. "Someone has been reading the Scriptures over my shoulder!"

Ezra drew in his breath in dread, but Nathanael smiled at him, "Fear not, Ezra. I knew what you were doing as I taught Thomas--may I keep calling you Thomas?"

"If I may keep calling you Nathanael."

"It is a bargain." He resumed to Ezra, "I saw you out of the corner of my eye, and wondered how much you made of it. I suspect the lamp in your room lost considerable oil of a night as you learned your lessons."

Ezra laughed. "I did have to fill it rather often. And once or twice I became so sleepy I almost neglected to return the scrolls I had borrowed. But you never gave even a hint that you did not disapprove!"

"Why should I? It would only cause a fuss, and there was enough fuss in that house. And why should I disapprove? Ezra was a scribe after all, and there was a fittingness in it."

"Well, I am happy that you are not angry."

"Who knows? You may do great things like Thomas--back in Ethiopia, perhaps. And even I might manage actually to do something."

That reminded all of them of the daunting future they were facing, and they walked on again in silence for a while.

A bit later, Ezra touched Thomas's elbow, and said, "May I speak to you for a moment Mas--Thomas?"

Thomas turned. "Of course. What can I do for you?"

Nathanael also turned. Ezra, however, drew Thomas aside, and said, loud enough for Nathanael to hear, "It is nothing, except something I found as I cleaned out your cave." Nathanael correctly interpreted this as confidential, and walked on ahead.

"You should not have bothered cleaning it out. I will--I hope--never return to it." Thomas was not, however, all that certain that simply trusting in Jesus would actually make him forsake his former life.

"Well, I did it perhaps because I have been trained to see filthy places as something that must be remedied. It is part of my heritage as a slave, I suppose."

They had by this time drawn pretty much out of earshot of Nathanael., unless he were to strain to overhear. "Before we go on," said Thomas, with a look in his direction, "It was you who washed me, was it not? I have only the vaguest memory of it."

"It was. You cannot imagine that it was Bartholomew."

Thomas laughed. "Who knows, in this new life of miracles? I do remember his supporting me as I walked to see Jesus. I seem to remember saying that he was working, and he seemed embarrassed."

"Oh, he did more than support you after you were clean. He was the one who picked you off the floor--I had gone for things to clean you--and made his own cloak all filthy."

"Really? I must thank him. I have no recollection of it whatever. But speaking of that, what I wanted to say was please accept my profoundest gratitude for what you did. It must have been a hideous task."

Ezra gave the most brilliant smile Thomas had ever seen from him. "You have no idea how much I appreciate what you just said," he answered. "Yes, it was a hideous task--the most disagreeable and disgusting thing I have ever done. And it was the very first thing I really did as a person. And now I have actually been thanked for it!

"You see, when Na-Bartholomew and I saw you, I realized you would have to be washed, and I immediately ran back to bring clothes and a basin and soap, because I was in terror of Bartholomew's telling me to clean you up as if I were still a slave and could not refuse. Not that I would have refused, because after all, you were responsible for my learning to read. But I was a free man, and no one tells a free man to do something so--repugnant. But Bartholomew was so used to commanding me that I was sure he would do so without thinking, especially since it would be too much to expect that he would think of doing it himself, even in his new state. I was astounded when I saw him grasping you in all your filth, and I was certain that indeed a miracle had occurred. His cloak will have to be burned."

Thomas reflected a moment. "Incredible!"

"Indeed. And if could have seen his face! It was so brave of him, really. And that gave me the courage to face cleaning you. I am overjoyed that I was able to do it. And I have been thanked for it!" he repeated. "This has never happened to me before!"

Thomas blushed almost in shame, and for something to say, blurted, "But you said you found something. What was it?"

Ezra reached into his cloak, and pulled out the bladder, which appeared to be full. "This," he said. "I was about to throw it away, when it occurred to me that it was not my place to do such things, and so I cleaned it up as well as I could, and decided to return it to you, in case you wanted it."

Thomas had reached out his hand to take it, and now withdrew it. Apparently in his drunken stupor, he had had enough presence of mind to continue manufacturing the magic liquid. He reflected that the curse would naturally be shrewd enough to see that it would happen. He stared at the bladder.

"It was another of the things I confronted as a person," said Ezra, "and I know not whether I did right in preserving it. Being a person is full of difficulties, it seems."

Thomas looked at him, wishing he had made a different decision, and yet bursting with joy that he did not. He could not bring himself to take the bladder, and yet he was incapable of not taking it. He stopped and stood there on the road, irresolute, Ezra looking pityingly on.

Finally, he reached out his hand and took it and placed it in its familiar place inside his luxurious new linen tunic, resting almost invisibly above the cincture, and completely hidden by the cloak. "I suppose it is my responsibility, Ezra. You know what it is, of course."

Ezra nodded, and said, "Well, I assume I know. I opened it and smelled what was within, and it does not seem to be wine, and yet--" He left the sentence unfinished.

"I call it my magic liquid. Nathanael knows that there is such a thing, because without thinking I referred to it, and Jesus knows what it is, somehow. But you and they are the only ones. It is what put me into the state you found me in."

"So I surmised. Still, I did not think I could destroy it."

"In a way, I wish you had done. But as I say, it is my responsibility, not yours; after all, it is mine. The one thing that I have." He gave a little almost silent laugh. "The one thing that was my whole life, up until this day. I know I must not drink from it, and if the Master is correct, I will be able not to do so." He could feel its tug, however, even now. Had he done well in taking it? But could he have done anything else? The "curse" was not totally dead, perhaps. So the real question was, could he refrain from drinking from it?

Well, he would have to trust Jesus, he supposed. And if Jesus knew everything, as he seemed to do, he would know this. He would have to ask him about it--if he did not drink himself into insensibility first. He shuddered. Ezra seemed to be following his thoughts and looked on him with concern.

He and Ezra were still walking rather far behind Nathanael now. He said, "I find I cannot throw it away. Not yet. If I ever raise it to my lips, I pray that I will have the courage to throw it from me. But until that time, I simply--must--"

"I think I understand," said Ezra. "Mast--Nath--Bartholomew had me keep his room in his house ready for him to return to, in the event he could not persevere."

"It is something of the sort," said Thomas. "It is too soon. I feel I no longer need it, but--" Yet there it was. There it was.

"But you are not sure how long this will last. In a way, I envy the two of you, especially Bartholomew, I suppose. Both of you can return to your former life, however horrible--"

"God forbid!" said Thomas. He should have poured it out and thrown the bladder aside. But, he reflected, he would only return to retrieve it. God grant that the former life were not something he would ever return to!

"--But I cannot. Even if I wished to return to being a slave, Bartholomew would not have me. Nor would my master in Ethiopia. I cannot not live the new life that--thank God!--has been thrust upon me, however frightening it is. For instance, I see that I have not really done you a favor; but what could I do?"

"Do not reproach yourself, Ezra," said Thomas. "It was a favor--I hope. It will make the transition to my new life easier, perhaps." Perhaps. "I can keep it by me, and use it to remind myself of Samuel and what I did to him because of it--especially if people call me--what was it? Didymus--and that will help me never to drink from it. If I did not have it, I might just as easily pick up a cup of wine at a reception or somewhere, and only half thinking, drink from it, and be lost."

"Are you certain that this 'magic liquid' of yours is not inventing what you just said as an excuse to keep it?"

"By no means. Undoubtedly it is." Ezra certainly was shrewd. "It certainly is. But it is the truth nonetheless. What I meant to say was that I am in grave danger in any case. Having it by me increases the danger, in one sense, but by the same token, it increases my watchfulness."

"I hope that that is true," said Ezra, a bit doubtfully. "I would hate to be the occasion of harm to you because I have not yet learned how to be a person."

"Fear not, Ezra. The fact is that it was mine, not yours, and you had no right to destroy it without my permission, whether you are a 'person' or not. And I am absolutely certain you had no malice in doing it."

"Malice? God forbid!"

"Then we are friends?"

Ezra tasted the word. Then he laughed. "What a strange word, for me. 'Friends.' Yes, of course we are friends." He gave one of his dazzling smiles as confirmation, and then looked at the back of Nathanael's head as they came closer to him (he had slowed his walk, seeing that their conversation was winding down.) "I have not had a friend since I was six years old and became a slave." He laid his huge hand upon Thomas's shoulder.

"And my only real friend was what is at my waist," answered Thomas, putting his arm around Ezra's back.

"Well," said Nathanael. "You two seem to have got along well together."

"I have a friend, Bartholomew!" said Ezra.

"Not merely one, I hope."

Ezra smiled at him also, though not so broadly, and said, "Not merely one," but in a tone that Thomas caught to mean, "But not like Thomas." He supposed that the gulf between a slave and a master could not be bridged in a moment, any more than the gulf between the drunk and the one who never drank and never wanted to drink. He could still feel the magic liquid soothing his side and begging to be taken inside him. He put his hand over the bladder wistfully--and then dropped it as he saw both Nathanael and Ezra cast a worried glance in his direction. Nathanael, whether he eavesdropped or not, had evidently divined what their conversation was about.

"Life has its complications, does it not?" said Thomas, embarrassed.

The others reacted as if caught in a naughty act. "It does indeed," said Nathanael. "But there is our little group." They were by the shore of the lake, and there were six or seven men, Philip among them, standing about talking.