Complete Works of George Moore

by George Moore

  Fortune seems to be with us, he said, as he carried Jesus through the doorway, but he must have a bed, and fortune is still with us, they haven’t removed the bed; and as soon as Jesus was laid upon it he began to remember many things. He must go to the house and get a lamp, and in the house he remembered that he must bring some wine and some water. He noticed that his hand and his sleeve were stained with blood. He must have been badly scourged, he said, and continued his search for bottles, and after mixing wine and water he returned to the gardener’s cottage, hoping that casual ministrations would relieve Jesus of some of the pain he was suffering till Esora would come with her more serious remedies in the morning.

  He put the lamp on a chair on the opposite side of the bed and turned Jesus over and began to pick out of the wounds the splinters of the rods he had been beaten with, and after binding up the back with a linen cloth he drew Jesus’ head forward and managed to get him to swallow a little wine and water. I can do no more, he said, and must leave him.... It will be better to lock the door; he must bide there till I hear Esora on the stairs coming down from her room. She is always out of bed first, and if luck is still with us she will rise early this morning.

  He tried to check his thoughts, but they ran on till he remembered that he must fetch the lantern forgotten among the rocks, and that he should follow the twisting path up and down the hillside seemed more than he could accomplish. Strength and will seemed to have departed from him; yet he must go back to fetch the lantern. He had left it lighted, and some curious person might be led by the light ... the open sepulchre would attract his eye, and he might take up the light and discover the tomb to be empty. It wasn’t likely, but some such curious one might be on the prowl. Now was the only safe time to fetch the lantern. He daren’t leave it.... At the first light Mary and Martha would be at the sepulchre, and the finding of a lantern by the door of the empty sepulchre would give rise to —

  He passed through his gates, locking them after him, too weary to think further what might and might not befall.

  CHAP. XIX.

  AND WHEN HE returned with the lantern he had forgotten he threw himself on his bed, remembering that he must not sleep, for to miss Esora as she came downstairs would mean to leave Jesus in pain longer than he need be left. But sleep closed his eyelids. Sleep! He did not know if he had slept. The room was still quite dark, and Esora did not come down till dawn; and, sitting up in his bed, he said: God saved him from death, or raised him out of death, but he has not raised him yet into heaven. He is in the gardener’s cottage! If only Esora can cure him of his wounds, he continued, he and I might live together in this garden happily.

  He closed his eyes so that he might enjoy his dream of Jesus’ companionship, but fell into a deeper sleep, from which he was awakened by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It is Esora trying to descend without awakening me, he said. But nobody was on the stairs, and he stood listening on the landing, asking himself if Esora was at work so early. And then it seemed to him that he could hear somebody in her pantry.... To make sure he descended and found her before her table brushing the clothes he had thrown off. You must have been in my room and picked up my clothes without my hearing you, he said; it was not till you were on the second flight of stairs that I awoke. I didn’t know that you rose so early, Esora. It is still dusk. And if I didn’t, Master, I don’t know how the work would get done. But the Sabbath, Joseph rejoined; and incontinently began to discuss the observances of the Sabbath with her. But even on the Sabbath there is work to be done, she answered; your clothes — a nice state you brought them home in, and if they were not cleaned for you, you could not present yourself in the synagogue to-day. But, Esora, Joseph answered faintly, I don’t see why you should be up and at work at this hour and that girl, Matred, still asleep. Does she never help you in your work? Esora muttered something that Joseph did not hear, and in answer to his question why she did not rouse Matred from her bed she said that the young require more sleep than the old; an answer that surprised Joseph, for he had never been able to rid himself of his first impression of Esora. He remembered when he was a child how he hated her long nose, her long yellow neck and her doleful voice always crying out against somebody, her son, her kitchen-maid, or Joseph himself. She used to turn him out of her kitchen and larder and dairy, saying that his place was upstairs, and once raised her hand to him; later she had complained to his father of his thefts; for he brought his dogs with him and stole the larder key and cut off pieces of meat for them, and very often dipped jars into the pans of milk that were standing for cream. His father reproved him, and from that day he hated Esora, casting names at her, and playing many pranks upon her until the day he tipped a kettle of boiling water over his foot while running to scald the wasps in their nest — one of the apes was stung; it was to avenge the sting he was running, and no one had known how to relieve his suffering; his father had gone away for the doctor, but Esora, as soon as she heard what had happened, came with her balsam, and it subdued the pain almost miraculously.

  After his scalding Joseph brought all his troubles to her to be cured, confiding to her care coughs, colds, and cut fingers; and, as she never failed to relieve his pain, whatever it was, he began to look upon her with respect and admiration. All the same something of his original dislike remained. He disliked her while he admired her, and his suspicion was that she loved him more for his father’s sake than for his own —— It was his father who sent her from Galilee to look after him. There was no fault to find with her management, but he could not rid his mind of the belief that she was a hard task-mistress, and often fell to pitying the servants under her supervision, yet here she was up at five while Matred lay drowsing. This testimony of her kind heart was agreeable to him, for he had need of all her kindness and sympathy that morning — only with her help could Jesus be cured of his wounds and the story of his escape from the cross he kept a secret. He was in her hands, and, confident of her loyalty to him, he told her that he had left his door open because he wished to speak to her before the others were out of bed.

  She lifted her face till he saw her dim eyes, perhaps for the first time: but ye haven’t been in bed, and there be dust on thy garments, and blood upon thy hands and sleeves. Yes, Esora, my cloak is full of dust, and the blood on my sleeve is that of a man who lies wounded in the gardener’s cottage belike to death. But thou canst cure him and wilt keep the secret of his burial if we have to bury him in the garden. It may be that some day I’ll tell thee his story, but think now only how thou mayst relieve his suffering. Another time thou shalt hear everything; but now, Esora, understand nobody must know that a man is in the gardener’s cottage. It is a matter of life and death for us. I am here to serve you, Master, and it matters not to me what his story may be; but tell how he is wounded; are the wounds the clean wounds of the sword or the torn wounds of rods? If he have been scourged —— A cruel scourging it must have been, Joseph answered. Now, before we go, Esora, understand that I shall send the two men away, one to Galilee and one to Jericho. Better both should go to Jericho, she said. I’d trust neither in Jerusalem. Let them go straight from here as soon as the Sabbath is over, the journey is shorter, and they’ll be as well out of the way in one country as in the other. Esora is wiser than I, Joseph thought, and together they shall go to Jericho, and with an important message. But to whom? Not to Gaddi, who might come up to Jerusalem to see me. I’ll send a letter to Hazael, the Essene, and after having delivered the message they can remain at the caravanserai in Jericho. Some excuse that will satisfy Gaddi must be discovered, Esora. I shall find one later. Both the men are now in bed, but if for some reason one of them should come down to the gardener’s cottage! It isn’t likely, Esora answered. Not likely, Joseph replied; but we must guard against anything. If thou knewest the risk! I’ll lock the door of the passage leading to their rooms, and I’ll do it at once. Give me the keys. She handed him the keys, and, having locked the men in, he returned, saying: the wounded man, whom thou’lt cur
e, Esora, may be here for a month or more, and till he leaves us thou must watch the girl and see she doesn’t stray through the garden. I can manage her, Esora answered. But now about the poor man who is waiting for attendance in the gardener’s cottage. What have ye done for him, Master? I picked from his back the splinters I could see by the light of the lamp, and gave him some wine and water, and laid him on a linen cloth. The old woman muttered that the drawing of the cloth from the wound would be very painful. I dare say it will, Joseph returned, but I knew not what else to do, and it seemed to relieve him. Can you help him, Esora? Yes, I can; and she began telling him of her own famous balsam, the secret of which was imparted to her by her mother, who had it from her mother; and her great-grandmother learnt it from an Arabian. But knowledge of the balsam went back to the Queen of Sheba, who brought the plant to King Solomon. Thou must have seen the bush in the garden in Galilee. It throws a white flower, like the acacia, and the juice when drawn passes through many colours, honey colour and then green. The Egyptians use it for many sicknesses, and it heals wounds magically. The sweet liquor pours from cuts in the branches, and care must be taken not to wound them too sorely. This plant fears the sword, for it heals sword wounds, so the cuts in the tree are best made with a sharp flint or shell, these being holier than steel. If thou hast missed the bush in Magdala, Master, thou must have seen it in Jericho, for I brought some seeds from Galilee to Jericho and planted them by the gardener’s cottage. Esora, all that thou tellest me about the balsam is marvellous. I could listen to thee for hours, and thou’lt tell me about thy grandmother and the Arabian who taught her how to gather the juice of the plant, but we must be thinking now of my friend’s agony. Hast any of thy balsam ready, or must thou go to Jericho for the juice? — you draw the juice from the tree? No, Master, Esora answered him, I have here in my press a jar of the balsam, and, going to her press, she held the jar to Joseph, who saw a white, milky liquid, and after smelling and liking its sweet smell he said: let us go at once. But thou mustn’t hurry me, Master; I’m collecting bandages of fine linen and getting this kettle of water to boil; for this I learnt from a man who learnt it from the best surgeons in Rome: that freshly boiled water holds no more the humours that make wounds fructify, and if boiled long enough the humours fall to the bottom. I strain them off, and let the water cool. Thou mustn’t hurry me; what I do, I do well, and at my own pace; and I’ll not touch a wound with unclean things. Now I’ll get some oil. Some hold Denbalassa is best mixed with oil, but I pour oil upon the balm after I have laid it on the wound, and by this means it will stick less when it is removed. But is thy friend a patient man? Wounds from scourging heal slowly; the flesh is bruised and many humours must come away; wounds from rods are not like the clean cut of a sword, which will heal under the balm when the edges have been brought together carefully, so that no man can find the place. This balm will cure all kinds of coughs, and will disperse bile as many a time I have found. Some will wash a wound with wine and water, but I hold it heats the blood about the wound and so increases the making of fresh humours. Now, Master, take up the pot of water and see that ye hold it steady. I’ll carry the basket containing the oil and the balm.... It was the Queen of Sheba who first made the balm known, because she gave it to Solomon. But we must keep the flies from him; and while I’m getting these things go to him and take with thee a fine linen cloth; thou’lt find some pieces in that cupboard, and a hammer and some nails. I’m thinking there are few flies in the gardener’s cottage, half of it being underground; but hasten and nail up the linen cloth over the window, for the first sun ray will awaken any that are in the cottage, and, if there aren’t any, flies will come streaming in from the garden as soon as the light comes, following the scent of blood. No, not there, a little to the right, he heard her crying, and, finding a piece of linen and a hammer and some nails, he went out into the greyness still undisturbed by the chirrup of a half-awakened bird.

  On either side of the shelving lawn or interspace were woods, the remains of an ancient forest that had once covered this hillside; paths wound sinuously through the woods, and, taking the one he had followed overnight, he passed under sycamore boughs, through some woodland to the terrace that he had crossed last night with a naked man on his shoulders. And he remembered how hard it had been to keep to the path overnight, and how fortunate it was that the gardener’s cottage was not locked, for if he had had to lay Jesus down he would never have been able to lift him up again on to his shoulder. He had done all he could to relieve his suffering. But Jesus, he said to himself, is lying in agony, and if he has regained consciousness he may believe himself buried alive. I must hasten. Yet when he arrived at the cottage he did not enter it at once, but stood outside listening to the moans of the wounded man within, which were good to hear in this much that they were an assurance that he was still alive. At last he pushed the door open and found Jesus moving his head from side to side, unable to rid himself of a fly that was crawling about his mouth. Joseph drove it away and gave Jesus some more weak wine and water, which seemed to soothe him, and feeling he could do no more he sat down by the bedside to wait for Esora. A few minutes after he heard her steps and she came into the cottage with balsam and bandages in a basket, divining before any examination Jesus’ state. He is in a bad way; you’ve given him wine and water, but he’ll need something stronger, and, taking a bottle from her basket, she lifted Jesus’ head so that he might drink from it. It will help him to bear the pain of the dressing, she said. Now, Master, will you roll him over on to his side, so that I may see his back. The pain, she said, looking up, when we remove this cloth on which you have laid him will almost kill him, but we must get it off. The water with which I’ll cleanse the wound, you’ll find it in that basket: it is cool enough now to use. Take him by the wrists and pull him forward, keeping him in a sitting position. Which Joseph did, Esora washing his back the while and removing the splinters that Joseph missed overnight. And, taking pleasure in her ministrations, she steeped a piece of linen in the balm, and over the medicated linen laid a linen pad, rolling a bandage round the chest; and the skill with which she wound it surprised Joseph and persuaded him that the worst was over and there was no cause for further fear, a confidence Esora did not share. He’ll rest easier, she said, and will suffer no pain at the next dressing; for the oil will prevent the balm from sticking. We can roll him on his back now, and without asking any question she dressed his hands and feet.

  Joseph thanked her inwardly for her reticence, and he nailed up the fine linen cloth before the window, saying: now he is secure from the flies. But one or two have got in already, Esora answered, and one or two will trouble the sick man as much as a hundred. We can’t leave him alone; one of us must watch by his side; for he is still delirious and knows not yet what has befallen him nor where he is. If he were to return to clear reason and find the door locked he might lose his reason for good and all, and if we left the door open he might run out into the garden. It isn’t safe to leave him.

  And perceiving all she said to be sound sense, Joseph took counsel with her, and his resolve was that the two men-servants should remain in their house till the sunset That I should send them away to Jericho on my own horses will surprise them, he said to himself, but that can’t be altered. A long, weary day lies before us, Esora, and we shall have to take it in turns, and neither can be away for more than two hours at a time from the house. Matred will be asking for instructions whether she is to feed the poultry or to kill a chicken. Though it be the Sabbath, she’ll find reasons to be about because we would have her indoors. And when I’m watching by the sick man, Esora returned, she’ll be asking: where, Master, is Esora? Thou’lt have to invent excuses. We’ve forgotten the servants, Esora. Give me the key. I must run with it and unlock the door of the passage. Do you wait here till I return.

  He hoped to find his servants asleep, and his hopes were fulfilled; and after rousing them with vigorous reproof for their laziness, he descended the stairs, thinking of th
e letter he would devise for them to carry to Jericho. These men, Sarea and Asiel, were his peril. Once they were away on their journey to Jericho he would feel easier. But all these hours I shall suffer, he said. But, Master, they know the cottage to be empty. One never can think, my good Esora, whither idle men will be wandering, and the risk is great. Having gone so far we must have courage, Esora answered. Now give me the key, and I’ll lock myself in with him; we’ll take it in turns, and the day will not be as long passing as you think for. It is now six o’clock, he answered: twelve hours will have to pass away before the men start for Jericho. And then the night will be before us, replied Esora. I hadn’t thought of the night, Joseph answered, and she reminded him that it might be days before his friend, who had been scourged, could recover sufficiently for him to leave. For he won’t always remain here, she added. No! no! Joseph replied, and gave her the key of the cottage, and returned to the house to tell Sarea and Asiel that he hoped they would remain indoors during the Sabbath, for he wished them to start for Jericho as soon as the Sabbath was over. They shall ride my horses, he said to himself, and bear letters that will detain them in Jericho for some weeks, and if Jesus be not well enough to leave me, another letter will delay their return. It can be so arranged, with a little luck on our side!