He had sent him out that morning with twenty lambs that were yet too young to run with the flock, and he now stood waiting for him, thinking that if he lost none between this day and the end of the summer, the flock might be handed over to him. Every young man's past is tarnished, he continued, for he could not forget that Jacob had begun by losing his master's dogs, two had been killed by panthers. Nor was this the only misfortune that had befallen him. Having heard that rain had fallen in the west, he set out for Cæsarea to redeem his credit, he hoped, but at the end of the fourth day he could find no cavern in which to fold his sheep, and he lay down in the open, surrounded by his flock, unsuspicious that a pack of wolves had been trailing him from cavern to cavern since he left the Jordan valley—the animals divining that their chance would come at last. It would have been better, Jacob said, if the wolves had fallen upon him, for after this disaster no one would employ him, and he had wandered an outcast, living on the charity of shepherds, sharing a little of their bread. But such charity could not last long and he would have had to sit with the beggars by the wayside above Jericho if Jesus had not given his lambs into his charge, by this act restoring to Jacob some of his lost faith in himself. He had gone away saying to himself: Jesus, who knows more than all the other shepherds put together, holds me to be no fool, and one day I'll be trusted again with a flock. I'm young and can wait, and, who knows, Jesus may tell me his cure for the scab, and by serving him I may get a puppy when Thema has a litter. In such wise Jacob looked to Jesus and Thema for future fortune, and as he came over the ridge and caught sight of Jesus waiting for him, he said: call up thy dogs, Master, lest they should fall upon mine and upon me. Gorbotha has already risen to his feet and Thema is growling.
Jesus laid his staff across their backs. What, will ye attack Jacob, he cried, and what be your quarrel with his dogs? Poor Syrian dogs, Jacob answered, that would be quickly killed by thine. If I had had dogs like Gorbotha and Thema the wolves would not—— But, Jacob, thou wouldst have lost thy dogs as well as thy sheep. What stand could any dogs make against a pack of wolves, and a shepherd without dogs is like a bird without wings, as Brother Amos used to say. Yes, that is just it, Jacob replied, struck by the aptness of the comparison. Thou art known, Jesus, to be the most foreseeing shepherd on the hills; but the flock would not have increased without thy dogs. Abdiel is great in his knowledge of dogs, and he told me that he had never known any like thine, Master. Come now, Thema, Jesus cried. Come, lie down here; lay thy muzzle against my knee. And growl not at Jacob or I'll send thee away. So Abdiel spoke of my dogs! They are well enough, one can work with them. But I've had better dogs. Whereupon Jesus told a story how one night he had lain under a fair sky to sleep and had slept so soundly that the rain had not wakened him, but Boreth—that was the dog's name—distressed at the sight of me lying in the rain, began to lick my face, and when I had wrung out my cloak he led me to a dry cave unknown to me, though I thought I knew every one in these hills. He must have gone in search of one as soon as it began to rain, and when he found a dry one he came back to awaken me. More faithful dogs, he said, there never were than these at my feet, but I've known stronger and fiercer. But I'd tell thee another story of Boreth, and he related how one night in December as he watched, having for his protection only Boreth (his other dogs, Anos and Torbitt, being at home, one with a lame paw, the other with puppies), he had fallen asleep, though he knew robbers were about in the hills, especially in the winter months, he said; but I knew I could count on Boreth to awake me if one came to steal the sheep. Now what I'm about to say, Jacob, happened at the time of the great rain of December, when the nights are dark about us. I was sleeping in a sheltered place in the coign of a cliff, the flock was folded and Boreth was away upon his rounds, and it was then that two robbers stole into the cave. One was about to plunge his dagger into me, but I had time to catch his wrist and to whistle; and in a few seconds Boreth leapt upon the robber that was seeking to stab me. He bit his neck and shoulder; and then, leaving that robber disabled, he attacked the robber's mate, and it was wonderful how he crept round and round in the darkness, biting him all the time, and then pursuing the two he worried them up the valley until his heart misgave him and he thought it wouldn't be safe to leave me alone any longer. But Gorbotha would defend thee against a robber, Jacob said, and he called to the dog, but Gorbotha only growled at him. Have patience with them, Jesus rejoined; I'll not feed them for three days, and after feeding them thou'lt take them to the hills, and when they have coursed and killed a jackal for thee it may be that they'll accept thee for master. But these Thracians rarely love twice. Come, Jacob, and we'll look into thy flock of lambs and take counsel together. They seem to be doing fairly well with thee—a bit tired, I dare say thou hast come a long way with them. We walked too fast, Jacob answered, saying he had had to go farther than he thought for in search of grass, and had found some that was worth the distance they had journeyed, for the lambs had fallen to nibbling at once. Fell to nibbling at once, did they? Jesus repeated When they're folded with the ewes, thou'lt put into their jaws a stick to keep them from sucking. And without waiting for Jacob to answer he asked which of all these lambs he would choose to keep for breeding from. Jacob pointed out first one and then another; but Jesus shook his head and showed him a lamb which Jacob had not cast his eyes over and said: one may not say for certain, but I shall be surprised if he doesn't come into a fine, broad-shouldered ram, strong across the loins and straight on his legs, the sort to get lambs that do well on these hills. And thou'lt be well advised to leave him on his dam another hundred days; shear him, for it will give him strength to take some wool from him, but do not take it from his back, for he will want the wool there to protect him from the sun. And all the first year he will skip about with the ewes and jump upon them, but it will be only play, for his time has not yet come; in two more years he'll be at his height, serving ten ewes a day; but keep him not over-long; thou must always have some new rams preparing, else thy flock will decline. The ram thou seest on the right is old, and must soon be replaced. But the white ram yonder is still full of service: a better I've never known. The white ram is stronger than the black, though the black ewe will turn from him and seek a ram of her own colour. I've known a white ram so ardent for a black ewe that he fought the black ram till their skulls cracked. Master, it is well to listen to thee, Jacob interrupted, for none knows sheep like thee, but as none will ever give me charge of a flock again, thy teaching is wasted upon me. Look to the ewes' teeth, Jacob, and to their udders; see that the udders are sound. Master, never before didst thou mock at me, who am for my misfortunes the mocking-stock of all these fields. In what have I done wrong? That my lambs are a bit tired is all thou hast to blame me for to-day. Jacob, I'm not mocking at thee, but looking forward a little, for time is on thy side and will soon put thee in charge of a flock again. Time is on my side, Jacob repeated. If I understand thee rightly, Master, thy meaning is, that the hills are beginning to weary thee. Look into my beard, Jacob, and see how much grey hair is in it, and my gait is slower than it used to be, a stiffness has come upon me that will not wear out, and my eyes are not as keen as they were, and when I see in thee a wise shepherd, between the spring and autumn, it may be that Hazael, our president, at my advice, will entrust my flock to thy charge.
CHAP. XXX.
So thou thinkest, Eliab, that the autumn rains will make an end of him. And maybe of thee too, Bozrah, Eliab returned. A hard life ours is, even for the young ones. Hard bread by day and at night a bed of stones, a hard life from the beginning one that doesn't grow softer, and to end in a lion's maw at fifty is the best we can hope for. For us, perhaps, Bozrah answered; but Jesus will go up to the cenoby among the rocks and die amongst the brethren reading the Scriptures. If the autumn rains don't make an end of him, Eliab interjected testily, as if he did not like his forecast of Jesus' death to be called into question. As I was saying, a shepherd's life is a hard one, and when the autumn rains make an end of him, the brethren will be on the look-out for another shepherd, and there's not one amongst them that would bring half the flock entrusted to him into the fold at the end of the year. The best of us lose sheep: what with——
The flock will go to Jacob, the lad he's been training to follow him ever since his friend was killed, Havilah remarked timidly. Eliab and Bozrah raised their eyes, and looked at Havilah in surprise, for a sensible remark from Havilah was an event, and to their wonder they found themselves in agreement with Havilah. The flock would go to Jacob without doubt. Of course, Havilah cried, excited by the success of his last remark, he be more than fifty. Thou mightst put five years more to the fifty and not be far wrong, Bozrah interposed. Havilah was minded to speak again, but his elders' looks made him feel that they had heard him sufficiently. Now, Bozrah, how many years dost thou make it since Joseph of Arimathea was killed? How many years? Bozrah repeated. I can't tell thee how many years, but many years.... Stay, I can mark the date down for thee. It was about ten years before Theudas (wasn't that his name?) led the multitude over these hills. A great riot that was surely—fires lighted at the side of the woods for the roasting of our lambs, and many's the fine wood that was turned to blackened stems and sad ashes in those days. It comes back to me now, Eliab interjected. Theudas was the name. I'd forgotten it for the moment. He led the multitude to Jordan, and while he was bidding the waters divide to let him across the Romans had his head off. It was nigh ten years before that rioting Gaddi's partner was killed in Jerusalem. I believe thee to be right, Bozrah replied, and they talked of the different magicians and messiahs that were still plaguing the country, stirring them up against the Romans. But, cried Bozrah suddenly, the story comes back to me. Not getting any news of his friend, Jesus left his flock with Jacob, and came down to the pass between the hills where the road descends to the lake to inquire from the beggars if they had seen Gaddi's partner on his way to Jerusalem or Jericho, and seeing the lepers and beggars gathering about Jesus, I came down to hear what was being said, but before I got as far I saw Jesus turn away and walk into the hills. It was from the beggars and lepers that I heard that Joseph had been killed in the streets of Jerusalem. Thou knowest how long beggars take to tell a story; Jesus was far away before they got to the end of it, simple though it was. I'd have gone after him if they'd been quicker. More of the story I don't know. It was just as thou sayest, mate, Eliab answered, and thou'lt bear me out that it was some months after, maybe six or seven, that Jesus was seen again leading the flock. I remember the day I saw him, for wasn't I near to rubbing my eyes lest they might be deceiving me—I remember, Eliab continued, it comes back to me as it does to thee, for within two years he had gathered another handsome flock about him. A fine shepherd, Havilah said. None better to be found on the hills. Thou speakest well, Eliab answered him, and for thee to speak well twice in the same day is well-nigh a miracle. Belike thou'lt awake one morning to find thyself the Messiah Israel is waiting for, so great is thy advancement of late in good sense. Havilah turned aside, and Eliab, divining his wounded spirit, sought to make amends by offering him some bread and garlic, but Havilah went away, a melancholy, heavy-shouldered young man, one that, Eliab said, must feel life cruelly, knowing himself as he must have done from the beginning to be what is known as a good-for-nothing. And it was soon after Havilah's departure that Jesus returned to the shepherds and, stopping in front of Eliab and Bozrah, he said: I've come back, mates, to give you my thanks for many a year of good-fellowship. So the time has come for us to lose thee, mate, Eliab answered. We are sorry for it, though it isn't altogether unlocked for. We were saying not many moments ago, Bozrah interjected, that the life on the hills is no life for a man when he has gone fifty, and thou'lt not see fifty again: no, and not by three years, Jesus answered. It was just about fifty years that the feeling began to come over me that I couldn't fight another winter, and to think of Jacob, who is waiting for a flock, and he may as well have mine during my life as wait for my death to get it. Better so, said Eliab, whose wont it was to strike his word in whenever the speaker paused. He did not always wait for the speaker to pause, and this trick being known to Bozrah, he said, and by all accounts thou hast made a true shepherd of him, passing over to him all thy knowledge. A lad of good report, Jesus answered, who had fallen on a hard master, a thing that has happened to all of us in our time, Bozrah interjected. He's not the first that fell out of favour, for that his ewes hadn't given as many lambs as they might have done. Nor was there anything of neglect in it, but such a bit of ill luck as might run into any man or any man might run up against. He was told, said Eliab, who could not bear anyone to tell a story but himself, that though he were to bring the parts of the sheep the wolf had left behind to his master he would have to seek another master. Such severity frightens the shepherd, and the wolf smells out the frightened shepherd, Jesus said, and he told his mates that he had not found Jacob lacking in truthfulness nor in natural discernment, and he asked them to give all their protection to Jacob, who will, he said, go forth in charge of our flock to-morrow.
The shepherds said again that they were sorry to lose Jesus, and that the hills would not seem like the hills without him, and Jesus answered that he, too, would be lonely among the brethren reading the Scriptures. When one is used to sheep one misses them sorely, Eliab said, there's always something to learn from them; and he began to tell a story; but before he had come to the end of it Jesus' thoughts took leave of the story he was listening to, and he turned away, leaving the shepherd with his half-finished story, and walked absorbed in his thoughts, immersed in his own mind, till he had reached the crest of the next hill and was within some hundred yards of the brook. It was then that he remembered he had left them abruptly in the middle of a half-finished relation, and he stopped to consider if he should return to them and ask for the end of the story. But fearing they would think he was making a mocking-stock of them, he sighed, and was vexed that they had parted on a seeming lack of courtesy: on no seeming lack, on a very clear lack, he said to himself; but it would be useless to return to them; they would not understand, and a man had always better return to his own thoughts. Repent, repent, he said, picking up the thread of his thoughts, but acknowledgment comes before repentance, and of what help will repentance be, for repentance changes nothing, it brings nothing unless grief peradventure. I was in the hands of God then just as I am now, and everything within and without us is in his hands. The things that we look upon as evil and the things that we look upon as good. Our sight is not his sight, our hearing is not his hearing, we must despise nothing, for all things come from him, and return to him. I used, he said, to despise the air I breathed, and long for the airs of paradise, but what did these longings bring me?—grief. God bade us live on earth and we bring unhappiness upon ourselves by desiring heaven. Jesus stopped, and looking through the blue air of evening, he could see the shepherds eating their bread and garlic on the hillside. Folding-time is near, he said to himself, but I shall never fold a flock again....
His thoughts began again, flowing like a wind, as mysteriously, arising he knew not whence, nor how, his mind holding him as fast as if he were in chains, and he heard from within that he had passed through two stages—the first was in Jerusalem, when he preached against the priests and their sacrifices. God does not desire the blood of sheep, but our love, and all ritual comes between us and God ... God is in the heart, he had said, and he had spoken as truly as a man may speak of the journey that lies before him on the morning of the first day.
In the desert he had looked for God in the flowers that the sun called forth and in the clouds that the wind shepherded, and he had learnt to prize the earth and live content among his sheep, all things being the gift of God and his holy will. He had not placed himself above the flowers and grasses of the earth, nor the sheep that fed upon them, nor above the men that fed upon the sheep. He had striven against the memory of his sin, he had desired only one thing, to acknowledge his sin, and to repent. But it seemed to him that anger and shame and sorrow, and desire of repentance had dropped out of his heart. It seemed to him as he turned and pursued his way that some new thought was striving to speak through him. Rites and observances, all that comes under the name of religion estranges us from God, he repeated. God is not here, nor there, but everywhere: in the flower, and in the star, and in the earth underfoot. He has often been at my elbow, God or this vast Providence that upholds the work; but shall we gather the universal will into an image and call it God?—for by doing this do we not drift back to the starting-point of all our misery? We again become the dupes of illusion and desire; God and his heaven are our old enemies in disguise. He who yields himself to God goes forth to persuade others to love God, and very soon his love of God impels him to violent words and cruel deeds. It cannot be else, for God is but desire, and whosoever yields to desire falls into sin. To be without sin we must be without God.
Jesus stood before the door of the cenoby, startled at the thoughts that had been put into his mind, asking himself if any man had dared to ask himself if God were not indeed the last uncleanliness of the mind.