Christ the Lord - Anne Rice [22]
“Are you with us?” someone shouted.
I covered my ears.
I walked on into the house.
Avigail all but dragged Isaac in with her. James was too angry to look at him. Menachim and Shabi were already on their way out as we entered, and Menachim looked once at James as if he would cry, but then he said, “Father, I have to go!” and off he went as James turned his back, and let his head sink on his chest.
Little Isaac began to cry. “My brothers, I have to go with them, Avigail.”
“You will not,” Avigail said. She reached for her ducklings. “I tell you, you will stay here with me.” She held six or seven of them in thrall.
My mother helped Joseph to be seated near the fire.
“How can this all begin again?” asked Cleopas. “And where is Silas!” he suddenly demanded. “Where is Little Joseph?” He looked around in panic. “Where are my sons!” he roared.
“They're gone,” said Avigail. “They came to the assembly ready to go.” She shook her head at the pity of it. She held Isaac by his wrist, though he struggled.
Avigail's father, Shemayah, came into the room, hulking, breathless, out of sorts—he saw Avigail with her children, and making a disgusted gesture walked out and home before anyone could offer him a cup of wine or water.
Avigail sat amongst the boys, most of them ten or eleven years old, and one, Yaqim, who was twelve. She held fast to Yaqim's hand just as she held Isaac's hand. Yaqim had no mother, and in all likelihood his father was drunk in the tavern.
“I need you all here, we need you,” Avigail maintained, “and I won't hear another word on it. None of you go. You stay here tonight under this roof, where Yeshua and James can watch you. And you girls, you come with me, tonight, and you.” She tugged at Silent Hannah.
Suddenly she paused, and she came to me.
“Yeshua,” she said. “What do you think will happen?”
I looked up at her. How tender and curious she seemed, how far from any real dread.
“Will Jason speak for them?” she asked. “Will he put the case before the Governor for them?”
“My dearest child,” I said, “there are a thousand Jasons now making their way to Caesarea. There are priests and scribes and scholars on their way.”
“And brigands,” said Cleopas, disgusted. “Brigands who'll mix with the crowd, who'll bring the whole thing to riot at a moment's notice if they think they'll have the fight they've always wanted, the fight they never wanted to give up, the fight they still maintain in every backcountry cave and tavern.”
Avigail was suddenly afraid, as were all the women, until James urged Cleopas to please leave off, and Joseph said the same.
Old Bruria came into the room, the eldest of our household, a woman not related to us by blood but one who'd lived with us from long ago when the land had run with blood after the death of Old Herod.
“Enough,” said Bruria in a dark, strong voice. “Pray, Avigail, pray as we all pray. The teachers of the Temple are on the road. They were on the road before the signal fires even glittered on the evening mountains.” She stood beside Joseph. She waited.
She wanted Joseph to lead us in prayer, but he seemed to have forgotten. His brother Alphaeus came into the room, and only then did any of us think that he had not even come to the assembly. He sat down beside his brother.
“Very well, then,” said Bruria. “O Lord, Maker of the Universe, have mercy on Your people Israel.”
All night long the village was alive with the sounds of men passing through on their way south.
Sometimes when I could no longer sleep, I went out in the courtyard and as I stood there, hugging my arms in the dark, I could hear the raucous voices from the tavern.
At dawn, riders came to the village, reading aloud their brief letters, declaring that this or that town had sent all its occupants south to appeal to the Governor.
Some of the older men put on their robes and got their walking sticks and set out to join those marching through.
Even some of the old men, on their