John looked around the bathroom of a house as lavish as Cyron’s in Sidon, or as the house where he had stayed in Palmyra. He poured water over Jesus’s head and Jesus sighed while that water joined the hot water in the tub dug low in the floor.
“Come in,” he said, holding his hand out to John.
John stripped and sank into the water on the other side of him, pressing his feet against Jesus’s and then locking legs with him.
“Don’t let me fall asleep in this,” he said, sinking to his neck.
“If you do, I’ll wake you up.”
They were in silence, the water occasionally making noises as they sloshed about in it. John shoved the water toward Jesus so that I splashed against him.
“And what do you think it means,” he asked. “What Yochanon said when he said Behold the Lamb of God?”
Jesus down so deep only his knees and face could be seen, sighed and said, “I’m not sure I want to think about that now.”
“Except if you do not think about it with me now, you will be thinking about it alone all the time.”
“True.”
Jesus blinked at the ornate ceiling. The dark night shone through the open roof.
“Israel has always been called a flock,” Jesus said. “Though if you ask me, it is better to call it a heard of cats. And the kings and rulers and the prophets were called its shepherds. The patriarchs were herders. But the lamb… what good was a lamb ever, but to be slaughtered?”
John said, because he did not like to think such things, “Surely the good of a lamb is to grow into a ram.”
“Moses commanded the blood of a lamb to be spread over the doors at Pesach, lambs, not rams, not goats, not full grown sheep,” Jesus shook his head. “That’s all I can think right now.”
“You know what I think?” John said. “I think Yochanon has death on his mind. I think it is not always best to think too much about his words.”
“What?” Jesus said, pushing himself up a little so the water fell from his broad chest. “We only listen when it suits us?”
“No, Yeshan,” John said, almost sternly. “We only listen to what at the moment we can bear. Anything else is not terribly helpful.”
“I cannot describe it,” John said the next day as they climbed into the covered cart and it began to roll north from the home of Joseph.
“If I say you are changed it is so,” his hair was unconsciousiy in the deep curls of Jesus’s hair.
“But if I say you are more you than ever before, that is the truth of it. I should fear you.”
“You should never fear me, Jonni,” Jesus said, shaking his head playfully and almost nuzzling his lover.
“I’m the same as I always was. And I’m yours, you’re mine.”
“But now I know who you are.”
In the shade of the covered wagon, Jesus took John by the shoulders and kissed his mouth.. Even while he kissed him, he said, “You always knew who I was.”
“The fire that burns.”
Jesus groaned low in his throat, and his embrace on John was tighter.
“Or melts,” John murmured, the desire rising in him.
“Look out there on all those fields and rejoice,” Jesus said, pushing back the covering to they could see the springtime plain that descended to the sea.
“How can you not rejoice in that?”
“Will we stay in a house like civilized folk tonight?” John asked.
“Tonight we might not, for I think the closest city to where we are traveling will be Sebaste—which will not be that close—and which is Samaritan.”
“We stayed in a Samaritan village on our way south. I would not mind.”
“Lazaros and Marta might,” Jesus said. “And this is not the time to push. The time to push will come. I will push the whole world. But for now we only ride.”
They sat side by side, and John’s hand was on Jesus’s thigh.
“If we stay in the fields. I would like to lay under the stars with you is all,” John said.
“Like we did when we were boys. Bare before God and the night herself, like Adam and Eve in Eden.”
Jesus’s hand was almost rough with passion as he stroked John’s shoulder and kissed him.
“Under the stars,” he agreed.
“As God made us.”
They stopped in a village with a good sea breeze, though the sea was too far west to be seen.
“We could stop at the inn,” Lazaros said as the servants watered and fed the donkeys, and Marta set about serving the midday meal.
“But if we stop anywhere, I’d rather it be at the end of our day.”
“Are we in a hurry?” Magdalene asked.
“We are in no hurry, sister. But if we travel, I’d like the trip to be short as possible.”
They ate new cheese, wet and wide and curdy, wrapped in the bread Joseph’s servants had prepared the night before, and cups of frothy small beer went all around, along with olives and figs for a sweet treat.
“When you return you must return through Arimathea,” Lazaros said. “You have already made friends with Joseph and Nikodemos. Strengthen those bonds and your place in Jersualem is assured.”
As Marta observed Jesus’s face, she said, “There may be other places than Jerusalem which concern him, Eliezar.”
“Of course,” Lazaros said, “but Jerusalem cannot be avoided. And after all, isn’t Jerusalem the goal?”
Jesus did not answer, but turned around and looked at the eastern sky.
“Are those…?” he wondered in a vague voice.
Out of the land, like two broad breasts, rose great hills, small mountains.
“Mount Gerizim and Ebal, the holy mountains of the Samaritans. Gerizim is the place of their temple,” Lazaros said.
“They were our holy mountains too,” Jesus said. “Once. As the Samaritans were us, once, before things were divided.”
“It is where Moses stood before the Israelites entered the land, and placed blessings and curses:
“See, I have set before you today life and good, death and evil, in that I command you today to love the Lord your God, to walk in His ways, and to keep His commandments, His statutes, and His judgments, that you may live and multiply; and the Lord your God will bless you in the land which you go to possess. But if your heart turns away so that you do not hear, and are drawn away, and worship other gods and serve them, I announce to you today that you shall surely perish; you shall not prolong your days in the land which you cross over the Jordan to go in and possess. I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life, that both you and your descendants may live; that you may love the Lord your God, that you may obey His voice, and that you may cling to Him, for He is your life and the length of your days; and that you may dwell in the land which the Lord swore to your fathers, to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give them.’”
“Well now I am confused,” John said. “Because Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal are here, in Israel, on the the other side of the Jordan. So how did Moses stand near them if he never entered the land?”
“I think,” Lazaros hazarded, “that maybe he stood onthe other side of the Jordan, and from there he could see the mountains.”
“Are they that large?” Marta said.
“And doesn’t the Torah say that we entered at Jericho, which is nowhere near Samaria?”
They looked to Jesus, who was thoroughly engaged in watching a ladybug, and he blinked at them, while John and Lazaros started all over again. At last he spoke.
“It’s as we said. The places of the Samaritans were holy to us. Father Jacob settled in Shechem, which was the place Joseph was stolen from, which was the place where Gideon was king, which was the place destroyed by Simeon and Levi, though it was never destroyed. It was the holy place to David before Jerusalem, and the oldest house of God. When you understand this you understand the meaning of Gerizim and Ebal, the two breasts of the Great Mother. You should not trouble about the differences in stories. Stories move, like the people who tell them. When you return to them, they may not be the same as when you left them.”
He had just finished speaking when he observed a goggled eyed man sitting near them with his mouth open, frankly listening.
“Friend, what’s the good word?” Jesus said.
“I have never heard one explain our stories so well,” he said. “I was enjoying the listening.”
“Would you like to listen a little more?”
“I would,” the young man said, standing up. He was long and tall, hollow cheeked with dark rings about his eyes, and coarse black hair like a goats, John thought.
“What is your name?” Jesus asked.
“I am Philip and my home is Bethsaida.”
“Bethsaida!” John said. Looking at Andrew. “Why that is so near Capernaum it might as well be the same place. And we are on our way there?”
“We are on our way to Nazareth,” Jesus corrected, “And will arrive in Capernaum soon enough and, I suppose, Bethsaida if need be. Come with us, Philip.”
Philip, who wore tan and grey and had his satchel strapped over his shoulder, nodded and said, “With a good will, rabbi. With a good will.”
That afternoon the little caravan made its way toward the Esdraolon Valley, hoping to reach one of the towns south of Nain early in the night. The early part of the day had been quiet traveling, but now Philip energized the whole party and words flowed freely from Jesus. Magdalene had been riding with her brother and sister, but when they stopped to stretch their legs, she climbed into the cart with the disciples and said, “This is the place where I belong.”
Philip was mildly perplexed by the woman in their midst and said so.
Jesus grinned and waving a hand over her head, he said, “I will make her male so that she also may become a living spirit like you males. Every woman who has become male will enter the Kingdom of heaven.”
Late in the day, when the sun no longer scorched, they removed the wagon coverings, and as the mules plodded on under the drivers gentle hand, and to either side of them appeared villages of old whitened stone while the mountains rose in the north. Jesus stretched out his hands and declared:
“What is more: “Blessed is the lion which becomes man when consumed by man; and cursed is the man whom the lion consumes, and the lion becomes man.”
And he said, “The man is like a wise fisherman who cast his net into the sea and drew it up from the sea full of small fish. Among them the wise fisherman found a fine large fish. He threw all the small fish back into the sea and chose the large fish without difficulty. Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear.”
Jesus said, “Now the sower went out, took a handful of seeds, and scattered them. Some fell on the road; the birds came and gathered them up. Others fell on the rock, did not take root in the soil, and did not produce ears. And others fell on thorns; they choked the seed(s) and worms ate them. And others fell on the good soil and it produced good fruit: it bore sixty per measure and a hundred and twenty per measure.”
As the night fell, Philip’s face was bright with light, and Lazaros’ driver led them to a quiet caravanserai. Philp was drunk on the words of Jesus and the love of new friends, and he had been returning to Bethsaida anyway. He would follow this man, work was as easy or as hard as ever to find and there was no permanent place for him. He knew this village well, and promised his new friends that he would return soon, for here he had an old friend to find.
The tavern was a dingy old house made into a shop from needs, and run by a stout woman who had made her living on her back and from that enterprise born three daughters who now did the same. In the alley, and sometimes on the roof, they supplemented this with the selling of palm wine, beer, bread and lentil stew.
In the tavern men were singing:
“Who is knocking at my door,”
Said the fair young maiden.
“Who is knocking at my door?"
Said the fair young maiden.
“Open the door and let me in,”
Said Old Elijah the sailor;
“Open the door and let me in,”
Said Old Elijah the sailor.
“You may sleep upon the floor,”
Said the fair young maiden.
“To hell with the floor, I can't fuck that,”
Said Old Eli the sailor.
And Philip was lulled into a bowl of beer and good old times, and he was high in spirits and through half of a second bowl of beer, peering around the room, before he asked, “Where is Nathanael? Where is Nathanael? Has anybody seen Nathnaiel?” And Corva said, “Whyn’t you ask as soon as you came in? Last I saw him was headed for the the alley.”
Philip slammed the last of the beer and dipped his bread in the dregs of it, wadding the bread up and stuffing it in his mouth. He went out of the back door to the small court and out the side door into the alley.
“You may lie down at my side,”
Said the fair young maiden.
“To hell with your side, I can't fuck that,”
Said Old Eli the sailor.
“You may lie between my thighs,”
Said the fair young maiden.
“What've you got between your thighs?"
Said Old Eli the sailor.
Even in the alley, it remained fusty, and the mood was closed and hot. Philip’s eyes adjusted just enough the darkness to make out a woman with one left propped up on a box, and a man shielded by that leg, fucking her with a quiet determination. In the closeness of the dark alley, snatches of their breath caught and then the man gave a half weary shout and pulled out of the prostitute, ejaculating on the ground between her legs. If the seed of men were like the seed of trees, a whole race would have grown up from how much semen was spilled on this ground.
“O, I've got a nice pin-cushion,”
Said the fair young maiden.
“And I've got a pin that will just fit in,”
Said Old Eli the sailor.
The whore lowered her skirts and was was brushing them down, and the man, still a little winded, was lowering his tunic. He turned to walk back toward the tavern and nearly jumped.
“Philip, you little fuck! You perv.”
“I came looking for you, you Philosopher,” Philip said.
“You came to watch me fuck.”
“You all can argue this latter,” the curly haired daughter of the hostess said.
She touched Philips cheek affectionately and said, “I need a rest and a wash, but I’ll be ready for you in a bit, too, alright? Long time no see.”
Nathanael the Son of Talmai, had forgotten his ire and was placing his cap back on his head and straightening the lapels of the great red coat he always wore.
“I am in town and headed out of town,” Philip told his friend, “and when I leave, you are coming with me.”
“Doubtless I am. Aside from the beer and the whores there’s no need to stay here.”
“I have something better than beer and whores, and definitely better than here. If you would take some wine and bread and cheese and talk on the roof a while.”
