"You look tired, both of you," I said. "Stop now, and I'll do this. I'll cut the wood."
"We can't let you do it," Silas said. "Why should you finish it all alone?" He gestured ominously towards the house. "It has to be done tonight."
"I can do it tonight," I said. "I'm glad to do it. I want to be alone just now with something to do. And Silas, your wife is waiting for you in the doorway. I just saw her. Go on."
Silas nodded and he went off home up the hill. He lived with his wife in the house of our cousin Levi, who was his wife's brother. But Silas' son, Little Cleopas, lived with us.
Little Cleopas gave me a quick embrace and went into the house.
There was plenty of light from the lanterns to see what had to be done here, and the lines drawn had to be perfectly straight. I had the tool for it, the bit of broken pot to mark it. Seven lines to be drawn.
Up came Jason walking into the yard.
His shadow fell over me. I smelled wine.
"You've been avoiding me, Yeshua," he said.
"That's nonsense, my friend," I said. I laughed. I went on with my work. "I've been doing whatever needs to be done. I haven't seen you. Where have you been?"
He paced as he talked. I saw his shadow sharply on the flagstones. He had a cup of wine in his hand. I could hear him take a drink.
"You know where I've been," he said. "How many times have you come up the hill and sat on the floor beside me and insisted I read to you? How many times have I told you the news from Rome and you've hung on every word?"
"That's in summer, Jason, when the days are longer," I said mildly. I carefully drew a straight line.
"Yeshua, the Sinless, you know why I call you this?" he insisted. "It's because everyone loves you, Yeshua, everyone, and no one can bear to love me."
"Not so, Jason. I love you. Your uncle loves you. Almost everyone loves you. You're not hard to love. But sometimes you're hard to understand."
I moved the plank and laid down the next.
"Why doesn't the Lord send rain?" he demanded.
"Why ask me?" I replied, without looking up.
"Yeshua, there are many things I've never told you, things I didn't think bore repeating."
"Perhaps they don't."
"No, I'm not talking about the stupid gossip in this village. I'm talking about other stories, old stories."
I sighed and sat back on my heels. I stared forward beyond him, beyond his slow pacing in the flickering light. He wore beautiful sandals. His sandals were exquisitely made and studded with what appeared to be gold. The tassels of his robe brushed me as he turned and moved like an anxious animal.
"You know I lived with the Essenes," he said. "You know I wanted to be an Essene."
"You've told me," I said.
"You knew I knew your kinsman John bar Zechariah when I lived with the Essenes," he went on. He took another drink.
I decided to try to draw another straight line.
"You've told me this many times, Jason," I said. "Have you had any news from your friends among the Essenes? You'd tell me, wouldn't you, if someone had word of my cousin John."
"Your cousin John's in the wilderness, that's all anyone ever says, in the wilderness, living off the wild things. Nobody's seen him this year at all. Nobody really saw him last year. A man told another man who told another man perhaps he'd seen your cousin John."
I started to draw the line.
"But you know, Yeshua, I never told you everything your cousin told me when I was there living with the community."