"Everyone who has passed has knocked," said James. "Jason was pounding on his door just now, as we came in. It's enough for tonight. Maybe the old fool will wander out on his own. The noise will keep him awake all night, one way or the other."
"We could somehow knock in his door, you know," said Cleopas. "All of us, dancing and drinking, we could, just sort of knock in his door, and then what, of course, we'd tell him we were so sorry, but with this . . ."
He broke off. No one had the heart for such a thing.
"This is no night to tell Jason," said James. "But we can count on him tomorrow to knock in that door if we must."
We all agreed to that. And we knew that his uncle, the Rabbi, would undoubtedly tell him everything.
Chapter Thirteen
THERE WAS TO BE NO WORK the next day. It was a festival, a celebration, and a thanksgiving unto the Lord for the Governor's decision, and those who were wont to drink did so, but mainly people went from house to house, to talk over the grand event, which was to some the triumph of the people, and to the others the humiliation of the Governor, and to the older men simply the will of God.
James, because he could not keep still, swept the stables and the courtyard twice, and I, because I could not keep still if James did not keep still, watered and fed the donkeys, went out to see how bad things were with the vegetable garden, came back thinking it best to say nothing about the tender crops dying there, looked at the cold sky, and decided to go to Cana.
Of course this was no day to prevail on Hananel to do anything on behalf of anyone. His beloved grandson was home, and surely he should be left to savor this and give thanks as he chose to do.
But I couldn't wait. No matter what I did, no matter where I went, I saw Avigail in my mind's eye, Avigail, alone in her dark room. I saw Avigail lying on the floor, and sometimes I saw Avigail's dull eyes.
The little town of Cana, much smaller than Nazareth, seemed just as noisy with festivities, and I passed along unnoticed as everywhere men gathered to drink and talk, and people even took their noon meal on the dried grass under the trees. The wind was not so bad for this. And it seemed people had forgotten about the drought altogether; they had won a great victory over something they feared even more.
Hananel's house was full of commotion. Preparations for a feast were taking place. Men were busy bringing in baskets of fruit. I could smell the roasting lamb.
I went to the door, and found the old slave who'd greeted me when I'd last come.
"Listen, I can't disturb the master on this day," I said. "But you must get a message to him for me, please."
"Of course I will, Yeshua, but you must come in. The master's brimming with happiness. Reuben has come home, safe and sound, this very morning."
"Tell the master only that I came, and that I wish him joy at this time," I said. "And tell him I wait for word on the matter as before. Will you do this for me? Whisper to him, that's all I ask. Put it in his mind when you can."
I went off before the slave could protest, and hadn't gotten halfway home to Nazareth when Jason met me on the road. He was on a horse, an unusual sight, and perhaps it was the mount he'd hired for the ride from Caesarea. At once he jumped down and came to me.
Without any preliminaries he launched into a tirade.
"The man's a fool to do this to his own daughter, to lock her up and starve her, to wish that for this, this, she should die."
"I know," I said. And then I told him as quickly as I could that Hananel of Cana had written to Avigail's family elsewhere. "And so we wait now for word."
"Where are you going?" he demanded.
"Home," I said. "I can't pester the man on the day of his grandson's homecoming. I left a message. That was all I could do."
"Well, I'm on my way there now to dine with them," said Jason. "The old man himself sent for me. I'll see to it that he remembers this. I'll see to it he remembers nothing else."
"Jason, be wise," I said. "He's sent the letters on her behalf. Don't come like a tempest into the house with this. Be happy that he's invited you to celebrate under his roof."
Jason nodded.
"Before you go I want you to tell me all of it," he said, "what those bandits did. They flung her to the ground on her face, that's what my uncle said - ."
"What does it matter now?" I asked. "I cannot do this. I won't relive it. You go on. Find me tomorrow and I'll tell you if you must know."
By late afternoon, Menachim and Shabi had come home, and almost all of the young men who'd gone away. The house was full of arguments and recriminations. Uncle Cleopas was furious with his sons Joseph and Judas and Simon. They stood quietly by, enduring the lecture, but confident with their secretive glances and smiles that they had been a party to a splendid thing.
James would have whipped Shabi, but his wife, Mara, stopped him.
I slipped away.