"Thou understandest that out of the mouth of the Jew thou wilt free or condemn him?"
"Yea—yea! Let me go! I am a friend of Caesar!" and he loosed himself and hurried down the long corridor.
CHAPTER XXVIII
ROSES AND IRIS AND TEARS
In full vestments of the Sanhedrin, Joseph of Arimathea stood beside the moonlit pool in the garden of Lazarus. The hand-washing and hymn-singing and feasting on roast lamb in bitter sauce, was over for another twelvemonth. With a glance prophetic, Joseph looked into this new year and shook his head saying slowly, "The signs are full of portent. Darkness doth seem to gather over Israel."
"Thy heart hath a burden?" Lazarus asked, coming from the house.
The patriarch lifted his face to the young man. For a moment there was no answer. The voice of Joseph was grave when he said, "Yea, more than a burden doth lie on my heart. Fear hath clutched it and while my lips made merry at the feast I did suffer, knowing the young man's life is in danger—aye, the life of Jesus. Doth not thy heart feel it? And the heart of thy sister Mary, doth not her heart suffer the torture of fear?"
"Perchance it is weariness that Mary suffereth. The feast maketh much labor."
"As we did sing the Pascal hymn, lo, did the lips of Mary shape a prayer. Twice did tears, which she did try to hide, drop from her cheek, and thrice did she choke in the throat. Is this weariness?"
"She was disappointed. The heart of Mary did want the Master by her side, but it had seemed good to him to eat the Passover with his disciples in the city."