I wanted to stop, but the family kept moving, and every time I went slow to look at the teachers, to catch a single word perhaps, someone took my hand and led me on.
Finally, I saw the great stoa coming up ahead. The crowd was easy now.
We passed the stairs for leaving and then I saw why.
Old Sarah was under the roof, seated beside one of the columns in the shade, with Bruria, our sad refugee, and also Riba playing with her little baby. My mother and my aunts were there.
I'd forgotten all about them. I hadn't even known we were to find them. Old Sarah at once received James in her arms and kissed him.
As we were all very tired, we sat down there with them. And I soon saw that many people were doing the same, even though the stonemasons were working not far off on the back wall of the colonnade. We kept very close together so as not to be stepped on by others.
Many were leaving the Temple. Even two or more of the merchants had packed up their birds in their cages and were going down the stairs. But still there were others complaining and even shouting at each other, and some people were backed up at the tables of the money changers.
The Levites who sold the oil and flour for sacrifice were folding up their tables. And then I saw the guards, perhaps the men who are called the Temple Police, coming near to the stairway to watch the flow of those leaving.
The evening sacrifice of the lamb would very soon be over. I didn't know for certain. There was so much to learn. It would all come in time. I wasn't worried about it.
Nearby I saw a blind man seated on a stool, a man with a very long gray beard, and he was talking in Greek to no one, his arms out, or maybe he was talking to everyone. People threw coins in his lap. Some listened for a moment and then moved on. I couldn't hear him too well over the noise. Finally I asked Joseph if I might give him something and go listen to him.
Joseph considered and then gave me a denarius, which was quite a lot. I took it and ran at once to sit down at the feet of the man.
It was beautiful Greek he was speaking, smooth as Philo would have spoken it. He was reciting from the Psalm:
" 'Let my cry of joy come to you, Lord, give me understanding as you promised. Let my plea for favor reach you; rescue me as you've promised...' " He stopped to feel the coin I'd laid in his lap. I touched the back of his hand. His eyes were pale gray, covered with film.
"And who is this who gives me so much, and comes to sit at my feet?" he asked. "A Son of Israel or one seeking the Lord of All?"
"A Son of Israel, Teacher," I said in Greek. "A student who seeks the wisdom of your gray hairs."
"And what would you learn, child?" he asked, staring forward. He slipped the coin into his girdle beneath the fold of his woolen robe.
"Teacher, tell me please who is Christos Kyrios?"
"Ah, child, there are many anointed ones," he said. "But the anointed one who is Lord? Who do you think it would be, if it would not be the Son of David, the anointed King come from the root of Jesse to rule over Israel and bring peace to the Land?"
"But what if angels sang when the anointed one was born, Rabbi," I asked, "and what if magi came following a star in the sky to give him gifts?"
"Oh, that old story, child," he said. "The story from Bethlehem, the story of the babe born in the manger. So you know it. Almost no one talks about it anymore. It's too sad. I'd thought it was forgotten."
I was speechless.
"People say 'Here is the Messiah,' and 'There is the Messiah,' " he went on, saying the word "Messiah" in Hebrew. "We will know when the Messiah comes, how can we not know?"
I was too excited to think what to say.
"Tell me the words, child, from Daniel... 'One like the Son of Man coming.' Are you there, child."
"Yes, Rabbi, but what is the story, Rabbi, of the child in the manger, in Bethlehem?" I asked.
"That was too dreadful, and who knows what really happened? It was so quick and so terrible. Only Herod could have done such a thing, a bloodthirsty and evil man! But I mustn't say these things. His son is King."
"But Rabbi, what did he do? We're alone here, there's no one near us."
He took my hand.
"How old are you, child? Your hand is small and rough from work."
I didn't want to tell him. I knew he would be surprised.
"Rabbi, I must find out what happened in Bethlehem. I beg you, tell me."
He shook his head. "Unspeakable things," he said. "How did we come to be ruled by such a family? These men, given to rages, murdering their own children? How many of his own children did Herod destroy? Five? And Caesar Augustus, what did he say of Herod after the man had slain his two sons? 'I'd sooner be Herod's pig than his son.' " He laughed.
So did I out of respect for him, but my mind was racing with thoughts.
"Child, answer for me," he said. "In my blindness I can no longer read my books and my books were all to me, my consolation, and it costs for me to have someone to read to me, and my books are my treasure. I will not give them up to pay for a boy to read to me what is left of them. I cannot give up those I copied myself, or those copied so carefully according to the Law. Tell me, Zechariah: 'On that day ...On that day...' the last line, child ...?"
" 'On that day there will no longer be any traders in the house of the Lord,' " I said.
He nodded.
"You hear them?" he asked.
He meant the money changers, and the people who disputed with them.
"Yes, I hear them, Rabbi."
"On that day!" he said. "On that day."
I looked at his eyes, at the thickness of the film. It was milk over his eyes. If only, but I had promised. If only I knew that it was right, if only, but I had promised.
His fingers tightened on mine, dusty, soft.
And I held tight to him and I prayed in my heart for him. All merciful God, only if it is your will, grant him consolation, grant him some relief...
Joseph stood beside me. He said, "Come, Yeshua."
"May God bless you, Rabbi," I said, and I kissed his hand. He was waving to me, though I was gone.
As soon as Old Sarah was on her feet, and Riba had the baby securely tied up to her, we started on our journey out.
At the top of the stairs into the tunnel, Joseph stopped. He held my hand. James had gone on.
The blind man ran towards us, his eyes dark and fierce with light. He squinted, looking to left and right and back at Joseph. It couldn't have been more startling to see a dead man back to life.
My heart pounded.
"There was a child here!" the man said. "A child!" He glanced over me and down the stairs and over the crowd. "A boy of twelve or thirteen," he said. "I heard his voice just now again. Where did he go?"