by George Moore
But very soon Jesus had to carry him again, and, despite his weight, they were at noon by the well at the end of the oak wood. Lamb, we’ll sleep awhile together in a pleasant hollow at the edge of the wood. Lay thyself down and doze. The lamb was obedient, but before long he awoke Jesus with his bleating. He wants some milk, he said, and undid the leather girdle and placed the feeding-pipe into the lamb’s mouth. But before giving him milk he was moved to taste it: for if the milk be sour —— The milk has soured, he said, and the poor bleating thing will die in the wood, his bleatings growing fainter and fainter. He’ll look into my face, wondering why I do not give him the bottle from which he took such a good feed only a few hours ago; and while Jesus was thinking these things the lamb began to bleat for his milk, and as Jesus did not give it to him he began to run round in search of the ewe, and Jesus let him run, hoping that a wild beast would seize and carry him away and with his fangs end the lamb’s sufferings quicker than hunger could.
But no wolf or panther was in the thicket, and the lamb returned to him: brought back, he said, by a memory of the bottle. But, my poor wee lamb, there is no sweet milk in my bottle, only sour, which would pain thee. Think no more of life, but lie down and die: we shall all do the same some day.... Thy life has been shorter than mine, and perhaps better for that. No, I’ve no milk for thee and cannot bear to look in thy face: run away again in search of the ewe and find instead the panther that took her. Poor little lamb, dying for milk in this wild place. So thou hast returned to me, having found neither ewe nor panther. Go, and seek a wolf, he will be a better friend to thee than I.
He had seen many lambs die and did not understand why he should feel more pain at this lamb’s death than another’s. But it was so; and now all his hopes and fears centred in this one thing that Fate had confided to his bosom. A little milk would save it, but he had no milk. He might pick him up and run, calling to the shepherds, but none would hear. I cannot listen to his bleating any longer, he said, and tried to escape from the lamb, but he was followed round the trees, and just as he was about to climb into one out of the lamb’s sight his nostrils caught the scent of fleeces coming up the hillside. A shepherd is leading his flock to the well-head, he said, so, wee lamb, thou wilt not die to-day, and, addressing himself to the shepherd, he said: I’ve got a lamb of the right breed, but have no milk to give him. Canst thou pay for it? the shepherd asked; and Jesus said, I can, and the shepherd called a ewe and the lamb was fed.
Well, luck is in thy way, the shepherd said, for I was on my way to another well, and cannot tell what came into my mind and turned me from it and brought me up here. Every life, Jesus said, is in the hands of God, and it was not his will to let this lamb die. Dost believe, the shepherd answered, that all is ordered so? And Jesus answered him: thou’lt fill my bottle with milk? The shepherd said: I will; but thou hast still a long way before the lamb can be fed again. Hide thy bottle under a cool stone in yon forest and in the evening the milk will still be sweet and thou canst feed thy lamb again and continue thy journey by starlight. But these hills are not my hills; mine are yonder, Jesus said, and at night all shapes are different. No matter, the way is simple from this well, the shepherd answered, and he gave Jesus such directions as he could follow during the night. Now mind thee, he continued, look round for a shepherd at daybreak. He’ll give thee fresh milk for thy lamb and by to-morrow evening thou’lt be by the Brook Kerith. And this advice appearing good to Jesus, he turned into the shade of the trees with his lamb, and both slept together side by side till the moon showed like a ghost in the branches of the trees.
It was time then to feed the lamb, and the milk being sweet in the bottle, the lamb drank it greedily; and when he had drunk enough Jesus was tempted to drink what the lamb could not drink, for he was thirsty after eating his bread, but he went to the well and took a little water instead, and lay down, telling the lamb that he might sleep but a little while, for they must be ready at midnight to travel again. If we meet a shepherd thou livest, if he fail us thou diest. Jesus said, and seeing a shepherd leaving a cavern at dawn with his flock, Jesus called to him and bought milk from him and once more the twain continued their journey, the lamb becoming so dependent on the shepherd that Jesus took pleasure sometimes in hiding himself behind a rock, and as soon as the lamb missed him he would run to and fro bleating in great alarm till he found Jesus; and when he came upon him he thrust his nozzle into Jesus’ hand.
It was then more than at any time he delighted in being carried. No, my good lamb, I’ve carried thee far and now can barely carry myself to the bridge; and the lamb had to follow to the bridge, and they began to ascend the terraces together, but the steep ascents very soon began to tire him, and the lamb lay down and bleated for Jesus to take him up in his arms, which he did, but, overcome with the weariness of a long journey, he had to lay him down after a few paces. Yet he would not surrender the lamb to the brethren who came and offered to carry him, saying: I have carried him so far and will carry him to the end, but ye must let me rest on your arms. Meanwhile, fetch me a little milk, for the lamb has had all that I could buy from the shepherds on the hills, and do not ask how I became possessed of this lamb, for I am too tired to tell the story. So did he speak, holding the lamb to his bosom; and leaning on the arm of one of the brethren while another pushed from behind, and in this exhausted state he reached the cenoby.
Now I must feed my lamb; go to Brother Amos and ask him to bring some ewe’s milk at once. But the brethren were loath to go, saying: Brother Amos is feeding his sheep far from here, but will return in the evening. But the lamb must be fed every three or four hours, Jesus answered, and do ye go at once to Amos and tell him to bring the milk at once. He must not be kept waiting for his milk. Now look at him and say if any of ye have seen a finer lamb. I can speak no more, but will sleep a little as soon as I have placed him in a basket. But wake me up as soon the milk comes, for I will trust none to feed him but myself, and he dropped off to sleep almost on these words.
The Essenes, understanding that the lamb had caused Jesus a long search, went after Amos as they were bidden, and finding him not as far as they thought for with his flock, they related to him Jesus’ request that he should bring some ewe’s milk at once, which he did, and seeing Jesus in deep sleep he said: it is a pity to waken him, for I know how to feed a lamb as well as he does. May I not? But the Essenes said: he’ll be vexed indeed if the lamb be fed by any but him. So be it, Amos answered; and they roused Jesus with difficulty, for his sleep was deep, and when he opened his eyes he knew not where he was for some time. At last memory returned to him, and, struggling from the couch, he said: I must feed my lamb. The milk is fresh from the ewe? he asked. Yes, Jesus, Amos answered, I have just drawn it from the udder. As soon as he is old enough to run with the flock I’ll bring him, Jesus said, and thou’lt be free to return to the Scriptures.
And having asked that he might be awaked in four hours his eyes closed, which is not to be wondered at, he having slept hardly at all for four days. Does he put his lamb before the Scriptures? the Essenes asked each other, and they withdrew, shaking their heads.
CHAP. XXVII.
JESUS FELL BACK into sleep as soon as the lamb was fed, and it was in this second sleep of more than six hours that he regained his natural strength. Has Joseph returned? he asked on awakening, and the brother nearest him answered that he had not; whereupon Jesus asked that Hazael should come to him, and he said to him: Hazael, Joseph told thee that as soon as his business was transacted in Jericho he would return hither, and if that were not possible the delay would not be long. But four days have passed and we haven’t seen him nor have we news of him. Now how is this? He couldn’t have heard in Jericho nor in Jerusalem of my faring among the hills of Cæsarea in search of a lamb. It was only on those hills that I might find a lamb that would recover for us the strength that has gone out of the flock. And I would that Joseph were here to see him that I’ve brought back. My heart misgives me. Thou’lt feed him in
my absence, he said to one of the brethren, and I’ll go down on to the terraces and wander across the bridge, for on the hills over yonder I may catch sight of Joseph coming to meet me. Can none tell me if he will come from Jericho or Jerusalem? A brother cried that he would feed the lamb as Jesus directed, and the brethren at work among the fig-trees spoke to each other of the grief visible on Jesus’ face as he passed them and questioned each other and sought a reason for it. Has the lamb fallen sick? one asked, and on that thought they ran up the terraces to inquire for the lamb, who, that day, had been given the name of Cæsar. The lamb sleeps in peace, Hazael answered, but Jesus, his saviour, has gone out in great disorder of mind to get tidings of Joseph, the great trader in figs and dates. He promised to return the same evening after transacting his business in Jericho, Hazael continued. Four days have passed away without news of him; some misfortune may have befallen him. May have! Hazael repeated under his breath as he walked away. Has befallen him without doubt.
The brethren waited for Jesus to return, but he did not return to them; and at nightfall a watch was set at the bridge head, and the same was done for many succeeding days, till the story reached the Brook Kerith that Joseph had been killed in the streets of Jerusalem by order of the Zealots. Priests never forget to revenge themselves on those that do not submit to their ideas and exactions, Hazael muttered, thereby stirring the curiosity of the brethren; but he could not tell them more, Joseph’s relation having been insufficient to make plain the truth that Joseph, as Jesus’ friend, must have earned the High Priest’s displeasure. A very little suspicion, he said to himself, is enough to bring about the death of a man in our days; and the priests were always jealous and afraid of prophets. Is then our Jesus a prophet? Saddoc asked, and Manahem’s eyes were full of questions. I can tell ye no more than I’ve said already, Hazael answered, and the brethren forgot their curiosity, for their hearts were stirred with pity. A great grief it surely will be, they said to one another, when Jesus returns and hears that his friend is dead, and they asked which among them should be the one to tell him of this great loss that had befallen him. Not I, said one, nor I, another answered, and as they passed into their cells it was the opinion of all that Hazael should tell him.
Next morning when they came forth from their cells, after giving thanks for the returning light, they stood on the hillside, hoping that every minute would bring them sight of Jesus returning. At last a shepherd came through the dusk, but it was not Jesus but Amos coming towards them, and the news he brought was that he had met Jesus on the hills wandering like one of disordered mind. He has taken my sheep from me and has lost them, I fear. But why, the brethren cried, didst thou leave thy sheep to him? To which Amos could make no straightforward answer: all he knew was that he had met Jesus and been greatly frightened by his speech and his show of gestures and demeanour. All the same, he said, I felt I had better let him have the sheep. And the brethren said: ruin has befallen us this time. We know the reason of the disordered mind that thou tellest of. Joseph was slain by the Zealots in Jerusalem by order of the priests, and the tidings must have come to Jesus as he wandered out on to the hills seeking his friend, and it was they that robbed him of his mind. We are ruined, the brethren cried, for our sheep are with him, and he without thought for anything but his grief. Amos could not answer them nay, for their words seemed to him but the truth, and they all returned to the cenoby to mourn for Jesus and themselves till Jesus was brought back to them by some shepherds who found him wandering, giving no heed to the few sheep that followed him; only a few had escaped the wolves, and the brethren charged Amos with the remnant, muttering among themselves: his heart is broken. He is without knowledge of us or the world around him. But why does he turn aside from our dwelling preferring to lie with his dogs under the rocks? It is for that our dwelling reminds him of Joseph. It was here he saw him last, Manahem replied. It will be well to leave him to wander at will, giving him food if his grief allows him to come for it; any restraint would estrange him from us, nor may we watch him, for when the mind is away man is but animal; and animals do not like watchful eyes. We may only watch over him lest he do himself bodily harm, Eleazar said, There is no harm, Manahem said, he can do himself, but to walk over the cliffs in a dream and so end his misery. We would not that the crows and vultures fed on Jesus, Caleb answered. We must watch lest he fall into the dream of his grief.... But he lives in one. Behold him now. He sees not the cliffs over yonder nor the cliffs beneath. Nor does he hear the brook murmur under the cliffs. Grief is a wonderful thing, Manahem said, it overpowers a man more than anything else; it is more powerful even than the love of God, but it wears away; and in this it is unlike the love of God, which doesn’t change, and many of us have come here so that we may love God the better without interruptions. It is strange, Eleazar said, that one who loves God as truly as Jesus, should abandon himself to grief. Eleazar’s words caused the Essenes to drop into reveries and dreams, and when they spoke out of these their words were: his grief is more like despair. And in speaking these words they were nearer the truth than they suspected, for though Jesus grieved and truly for Joseph, there was in his heart something more than mortal grief.
It often seemed to him as he sat gazing across the abyss that his temerity in proclaiming himself the Messiah was punished enough by crucifixion: the taking from him of the one thing that crucifixion had left behind often put the thought into his mind that God held him accursed; and in his despair he lost faith in death, believing he would be held accursed for all eternity. He forgot to take food and drink; he fed upon his grief and would have faded out of life if Cæsar had not conceived a dislike to his keeper and run bleating among the rocks till he came upon Jesus whom he recognised at once and refused to leave, thrusting a nozzle into Jesus’ hand and lying down by his side. Nor could the brethren beguile the lamb from Jesus with milk, and Jesus taking pity on the faithful animal said: give me the feeding bottle, I will feed him. Whereupon Cæsar began to bleat, and so cheerfully, that all conceived a new affection for him, but he had none for anybody but Jesus, whom he followed about the cliffs as a dog might, lying down at his side.
The twain strayed together whither there was scarce foothold for either, and the brethren said as they watched them: if Cæsar were to miss his footing and fall over the edge, the last link would be broken and Jesus would go over after him. But sheep and goats never miss their footing, a brother answered. It is fortunate, another replied, that Cæsar should have attached himself to Jesus. He seems to say, I get happier and happier every day, and his disposition will react on Jesus and may win him out of his melancholy.
And it seemed as if the brother had guessed rightly, for though Jesus’ face showed no interest in the brethren, nor in the cenoby, he seemed to enjoy the sympathy of the dumb animal. He liked to call to Cæsar and to lay his hand upon Cæsar’s head, and to look into his eyes, and in those moments of sympathy the brethren said: he forgets his grief. But Cæsar is coming into ramhood, Saddoc answered, and will have to go away with the flock. There were brethren who cried out against this: let the flock perish rather than Jesus should be deprived of Cæsar. Wouldst have him remain when he is a great ram? Manahem asked, and the others answered: yes, for Jesus takes no thought for anything but Cæsar, and the brethren conferred together, and spent much thought in trying to discover a remedy other than Cæsar for Jesus’ grief.
But one day Jesus said to the brethren: Cæsar is coming into ramhood, and I must take him away to the hills, he must come with me and join the ewes. Art thou going to be our shepherd again? said they. If ye will entrust the flock to me. My thoughts will never wander from it again. Jesus spoke the words significantly, and many of the brethren believed that he would prove himself to be the great shepherd that he was of yore, but others said: his grief will break out upon him on the hills; but these counsels were overruled by Manahem and Saddoc. Jesus, Saddoc said, never smiles and his words are few, but he is himself again, and the best shepherd that ever walked the
se hills is worse than he, so it is said. He lost a few sheep, Manahem said, in the first days of his great grief, but his mind is altogether now on the encouragement of the flock and Amos is wearied of it and would return to the reading of the Scriptures. Thou speakest well, Manahem, Saddoc returned, for it was in his mind as it was in Manahem’s that the sight of men and the sound of men’s voices were a torture to Jesus, and that he longed for solitude and silence and the occupation of the flock.
The cenoby will never be the same again without our pet, some of the brethren cried, but others said: it must be so. We’ll go to see Cæsar’s lambs, they cried, as he was being led away. There will be no lambs by Cæsar this spring, Jesus answered. He’ll run with the ewes and that’s about all; for a ram is not fit for service till he is two years old. Whereupon the distraction of Jesus’ grief being removed from the cenoby, the Essenes fell to talking again of the great schism and what came of it. Are our brothers happier in wedlock than we are in celibacy? was the question they often put to each other on the balcony; and a sudden meeting of thoughts set them comparing the wives beyond Jordan with the ewes of the hills. Which are the most fruitful? they asked themselves; and it was averred that though twin lambs were of equal worth, it might fall out in the strange destinies that beset human life that one of human twins might be a robber and the other a devout Essene.
On a balcony overhanging an abyss some hundred feet in depth, through which a brook sings a monotonous song, men may dream a long while on the problem of destiny, and on awaking from their different meditations it was natural that they should speak about the difficulties the brethren by the lake would experience when they set themselves to discover women who would accept the rule of life of the Essenes and for no enjoyment for themselves, but that the order might not perish, and with it holiness pass out of the world.