The Ironsmith (43 page)

The sun was already setting. There was nothing more to be done that day.

Caleb sat in the gathering darkness, drinking wine while he watched Matthias sleep. There was a slight breeze, just enough to render it uncomfortably cool, but that kept him awake. He spent the time planning what he would have happen in Jerusalem.

Shortly after midnight, Matthias started awake. Caleb could hear rather than see that he was trying to sit up, so he lit an oil lamp. The breeze had dropped and the air was still. Matthias stared at the little point of light as if trying to remember how he had come to be here.

Caleb gave him water, and then a cup of unmixed wine.

“My lord,” Matthias said at last—that was all, just those two words, to indicate that he had returned to life.

“Why do you drink so much?” Caleb asked him. He didn't really care, but he was curious.

“To forget.”

“To forget what?”

“The things I have done.”

“You have a conscience, then?”

Matthias glared at him, which meant at least that Caleb had his full attention.

“Do you remember Noah?” Caleb asked.

Matthias shook his head. The operation must have been painful, for he put his hand on the crown of his skull, apparently to keep it in place.

“You beat him, as a warning. That was almost three months ago. Do you remember now?”

“On the road, coming home from the Sabbath.”

“Yes. That's him. Now I want you to kill him.”

He explained it all carefully. Noah would be leaving soon to find his cousin in the north. He must die somewhere on the journey, preferably in such a way that his body would not be discovered for some time. It would be inconvenient if he were killed in Sepphoris. It must be made to look like anything except what it was. An accident, suicide, a simple robbery, these were all perfectly acceptable.

“Do you understand? He must not be allowed to speak to his cousin. He knows about Judah, the man you kidnapped from Tiberias. It will be very dangerous if the cousin finds out.”

“Shall I kill the cousin as well, then?”

“Preferably not. It would raise too many questions.”

“Who is the cousin?”

Caleb briefly considered not telling him, but decided that he might need to know.

“His name is Joshua bar Joseph. He fancies himself a prophet. Have you heard of him?”

“No.”

 

36

During that same night, Joseph was gathered to his fathers. He woke up, sat on the edge of his bed, and began to cough, spitting up blood. Soon, almost before the noise woke up his wife, he had collapsed. He was dead before Miriam could call for help.

When he was laid out, and Miriam had wiped the blood from his mouth, the family gathered in the kitchen. Miriam was the first to break the silence.

“Joshua must be told,” she said. It was clear from the expression of her voice that she would brook no contradiction.

For a long, thoughtful moment no one replied.

“We don't even know where he is,” Little Joseph said at last.

“Noah does.”

Miriam looked at her second son, her dark eyes burning.

“Jacob, you must go to Sepphoris at first light.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Thus, when the sun first broke over the eastern mountains, Jacob was on his way. He had never been to the city, so he had had to wake up Uncle Benjamin and ask him for directions to Noah's house.

He found it easily enough. It was made of stone and was, to his eyes, huge. He had never realized that his cousin was so rich.

Noah was having breakfast and heard him knock. As soon as he saw Jacob's face, he knew someone had died. His first thought was that it must be his grandfather.

“My father…” Jacob began, and then seemed unable to go on.

Noah's initial reaction was relief, of which he was instantly ashamed. He put his hand on Jacob's shoulder. He had to reach up to do it, because Jacob, like all of Joseph's sons, was tall.

“Come in. I don't suppose you have eaten. Come in.”

They went into the kitchen, where Deborah and Sarah were waiting. Noah told them what had happened and Deborah stepped forward to kiss Jacob on the cheek. Sarah cried briefly.

They all ate in silence, until Jacob said, “My mother wants you to tell Joshua.”

“I will tell him,” Noah agreed. “I was leaving this morning to see him. I will walk back with you to Nazareth.”

*   *   *

Matthias watched the two men leave Noah's house. He thought at first that he might already be too late, that the taller man might be the cousin, but then he dismissed the idea. The cousin was in the north. The Lord Caleb always knew about such details.

There were many travelers on the Jerusalem road, so Matthias was able to conceal himself. He stayed well back and out of sight, even after he saw Noah and his companion branch off from the road.

“They are going to Nazareth,” he thought. “Good. Perhaps he will stay there for the day and return this evening. That would make it easier.”

But the Lord Caleb had said soon—“soon he will be traveling to the north.” It seemed possible, therefore, even likely, that Nazareth was the first stage of Noah's journey.

Thus, he would not be returning to Sepphoris.

And if he went north, what route would he take? East onto the plain, and then north and east to Tiberias, where he would perhaps take a boat up to Capernaum. The Lord Caleb had said that the cousin seemed to regard Capernaum as his base. That would be the easiest way.

So now, Matthias told himself, his problem was to find a spot from which he could watch both directions, east and west.

He found it north of Nazareth, in the line of hills covered with grape arbors. There he could sit comfortably in the shade, concealed by the arbors. The grapes were not yet ripe, which was a pity, but he had water and dried meat. All he needed was patience.

*   *   *

“It is kind of you to take the trouble about Joshua,” Jacob said, as they made their way up the trail to Nazareth.

“
Kind
?” It struck Noah as an odd way to put it.

“Joshua is my kinsman and my friend. It is a duty. You would go yourself, but you must bury your father.”

“When Uncle Benjamin dies, I suppose we shall see no more of you.”

“What are you trying to say, Jacob?”

But Jacob did not answer. The only sound he made was that of his sandals scraping against the pebbles on the trail.

“I see. You intend some reproach.”

“No.”

“What then?”

Jacob was clearly embarrassed. They passed a bush and he stopped to wipe his hands on the leaves. He did not want to look at Noah.

“What then?”

“It's just that I had not realized you were so rich,” he said finally. “You live in a stone house that could hold five families.”

“So that's it. You think I fancy myself above my relatives? You and I played together as children, Jacob. I have not deserved this.”

Jacob turned around and smiled, apparently a little ashamed of himself and in need of self-justification.

“It's just that I saw the house, and it's so different from the way I have always thought about you. When you come to Nazareth, you seem no different from us.”

“Nor am I. As I appear to my family, as I am in the prayer house, standing before God, thus I am. The house was something my father bought before I was born—to please my mother.”

Jacob could laugh at this. The moment of estrangement had passed off.

By the time they reached the village, Noah was thinking of something else.

He wondered sometimes if the strain of the past few months wasn't beginning to tell on him. He had gone through his whole life without making any enemies, and now he had the sense of being surrounded by them. Suddenly someone is there. The man in Damascus, the man who came out of the darkness to attack him while he was on his way home. He kept thinking he was being watched. Not all the time, but now and then.

Right now, for instance.

It had been growing on him all the way from Sepphoris. Had he seen something or heard something? There had been dozens of people on the road.

Or perhaps it was simply his mind playing tricks. Fear sometimes did that, and lately fear had been a regular presence in his life.

But still, even here, in the village where he had grown up, where every house and tree and living thing was familiar to him, he could not shake this feeling of unfriendly eyes on him.

Assuming it was true, what would a stranger watch for? For Noah to leave the village, of course. And where would this stranger place himself?

The answer was just as obvious. Had he not played such games countless times as a child?

Just before they reached Joseph's door, through which Noah would pass to pay his respects, he touched Jacob on the arm.

“Do something for me,” he said. “You are more farsighted than I. Go out to Old Shomer's house and look through the window opposite the door, where you will have a clear view of the hills. Take your time. See if you can spot anyone in the grape arbors.”

Jacob looked surprised. Shomer's house had been empty for six months, ever since the old man died. Why go inside to look out a window?

“I have an idea we were followed. You don't want to know about it, but it has to do with Joshua.”

Jacob shrugged. “If you say so.”

Noah entered the house and saw Miriam and her two daughters sitting around the kitchen table. He bent down to kiss each of them in turn. It seemed only then that Miriam realized he was there. She lifted her hand and touched him on the face.

“I knew you would come,” she said. Then she told him how Joseph had died.

“Last night, when he came to bed, he lay there for a little time and then, suddenly, speaking into the darkness, he said, ‘May God protect my son Joshua.' He never uttered another word. Joshua's father loved him, Noah. You must tell him that.”

“I will.”

After a time, Noah went back outside. He looked about him and everything seemed strange. Its very familiarity made this place seem dreamlike.

Then he saw Jacob.

“You were right,” Jacob said, shaking his head with astonishment. “I didn't notice him at first, but then he moved. He brushed something off his sleeve. A big man, unknown to me.”

“That presents a problem.”

*   *   *

Matthias watched throughout the day, and he had many glimpses of Noah moving about the village. It was about midday when he discovered Noah's purpose in coming. Someone had died. Matthias had a clear view of the burial, and he could see Noah walking arm in arm with a very old man. It was Noah who stood at the foot of the grave and recited the prayers for the dead.

Matthias wished he had not seen this. He would have to kill Noah, and he preferred not to be on an intimate footing with his victims. To see him like this, one end of his shawl draped over his head as he prayed, made him too human.

The Lord Caleb seemed to hate him, which only meant that the Lord Caleb had lost control of him. That in itself was a kind of recommendation.

It had been a long time since Matthias first realized that he hated the Lord Caleb, who was as bad a man as God suffered to live. God had turned His back on them both, the difference being only that Matthias knew it and the Lord Caleb did not—or didn't care.

It hurt Matthias to watch Noah pray. He envied him. Noah had a family and was not afraid to beseech God's mercy. Probably he was a good man.

But that would not save him.

During it all, as the body was carried to the grave, while he prayed, when he took the old man's arm and they walked back to the village, Noah never glanced in Matthias' direction. His gaze never wandered from his immediate surroundings. He gave no indication he suspected he had been followed. If he had, the temptation to search with his eyes would have been irresistible.

The question was, would he spend the night in Nazareth or would he return to the city? It was too late to start for Tiberias.

Matthias could only wait and see.

The afternoon wore itself out, and in the evening, families ate their dinners outside. Matthias could see Noah walking from one house to another, still arm in arm with the old man. Since it would be dark in two hours, Noah probably did not intend to return to Sepphoris, and his constant attendance on the old man indicated where he would be spending the night.

Matthias considered slipping into the village after dark and killing Noah while he slept, but he decided it would be too dangerous. He would have to kill both Noah and the old man, and the chances were good that one of them would live long enough to raise the alarm. He did not have a horse, so rapid escape was impossible. He could not fight a whole village.

Sure enough, just before it became too dark to see, Noah and the old man headed back. In Nazareth it was time for bed.

The heat of the day was lost in a cold night. Matthias slept only fitfully and was awake long before the sun rose.

Shortly after dawn the old man came out and sat down on a stool beside his doorway. A few minutes later a girl came, greeted him, and went inside. Perhaps a quarter of an hour later she came back out with a bowl, the old man's breakfast. He sat eating it in that slow, contemplative way old men have, stopping from time to time to lift his head and warm his face in the sun.

Noah did not come outside. It was not long before Matthias realized that he had been tricked.

Matthias could not stand against a certain grudging admiration. Noah had somehow known that he was being watched and had arranged the whole performance. Why else walk back to the old man's house while it was still light? Not to see but to be seen. The performance at the gravesite—what a feat of self-control.

He had probably been gone for hours.

*   *   *

But in truth Noah was still in Nazareth. It had occurred to him that his nameless adversary might use the night to come into the village, so as soon as it was full dark he had brought his grandfather back to Joseph's house and had himself slept in the carpenters' workshop. Then, an hour before dawn, when he judged it safe, he had brought Grandfather back to his own house to make a show of eating his breakfast alone, and then Noah returned to the workshop.