CHAPTER IV
“THE KING, MY MASTER!”
The sun was setting behind the mountains before hunger, more potent than even the temple police with its flail-like rods of office, had cleared the great court of the temple. The sick and blind, the maimed and palsied had gone away restored, the multitude, sated with miracle and weary of shouting, followed. The Nazarene himself, looking more worn and thoughtful than his wont, also departed with the twelve, his disciples bearing themselves haughtily under the angry eyes of the priests.
At last their Master had declared him[pg 54]self before the nation. All the city had heard the royal acclamation. The promised reign of the house of David was about to be restored in Jerusalem. Already they felt themselves to be princes and governors in a kingdom of unimagined splendor.
Peter, the Galilean, as he followed with the others after the pale, potent worker of miracles, who was also a King, became aware of a determined clutch upon his abba, and, looking down, beheld with amazement and displeasure the small, pinched face of Tor. “I have nothing for thee, beggar,” he said quickly, and pulled his garment impatiently away from the child’s clinging touch.
“Nay, but I am not begging,” said Tor, in nowise abashed. “The man—yonder—is he thy Master?”
“What is that to thee?” frowned the [pg 55]future prince of Israel. “Get thee gone, the King is passing.”
“The King—thy Master—healed me but now of blindness,” persisted the child. “What is his name? Nay, I will not loose thee till I know.”
“His name is Jesus,” said Peter unwillingly. “Now begone.”
“I will not,” said Tor positively, “for I also have chosen him for my Master.” But he loosed his hold on the man’s garment and fell back a few paces. “I shall follow him,” he told himself simply.