I moved to the stool, and slowly sat as he'd told me to do. I was looking up at him. Perhaps six feet lay between us. He was higher because of all the cushions he required, and I could see that his hand was withered and thin, that the bones of his face all but poked through the flesh.
The air here, near the brazier, was intoxicatingly warm. So was the sun falling on my face, and on the back of his head.
"My lord, I come on a distressing errand," I said.
"That fool Jason," he said, "the nephew of Jacimus, is he in Caesarea?"
"Yes, my lord," I said.
"And has he written from Caesarea?"
"Only the news I've told you, my lord. I spoke with the Rabbi this morning."
Silence. I waited. Finally, I said,
"My lord, what is it you want to know?"
"Simply this," he said. "Whether or not Jason has heard from my grandson, Reuben. Whether or not Jason speaks of my grandson, Reuben. I will not humble myself to ask that wretch such a question, but you I ask in confidence under my roof, here in my house. Does that miserable Greek wanderer speak of my grandson, Reuben?"
"No, my lord. I know they were friends. That's all I know."
"And my grandson could be married this day in Rome or in Antioch or wherever he is, married to a foreign woman, and this to spite me." He bowed his head. His demeanor changed. He seemed to have forgotten I was there, or not to care who I was, had he ever cared. "I brought this on myself," he said. "I did this to myself, put the sea between him and me, put the world between me and the woman he marries and the fruit of her womb, I did this."
I waited.
He turned and looked at me as if waking from a dream.
"And you are going to speak to me of this poor girl, this child, Avigail, whom the bandits pulled off her feet, whom the bandits so brutally frightened."
"Yes, my lord," I said.
"Why? Why come here to me with this, and why you, what do you want me to do about it?" he asked. "Do you think I'm not heartsick for the girl? Pity the man who has a daughter that beautiful, with such a ringing laugh, with such a lovely gift for song and words. I watched her grow up on the road between here and the Temple. Well, what is it, what do you want from me!"
"I'm sorry, my lord, to cause you grief - ."
"Stop it, go on. Why are you here, Yeshua, the Sinless!"
"My lord, the girl is dying in her house. She takes no food and nothing to drink. And the girl is unharmed, except for the insult to her and to her father."
"The fool," he said disgustedly. "Sent for the midwife for his own daughter! Refusing the word of his own daughter!"
I waited.
"Do you know why my son left for Rome, Yeshua bar Joseph? Did that madman Jason tell you?"
"No, my lord. It's never been mentioned."
"Well, you knew that he left."
"I did, but not why," I explained.
"Because he wanted to marry," said the old man. His eyes glittered as he turned to look away. "He wanted to marry, and not into the Jerusalem family to which I had pointed my finger, but a village girl, a lovely little village girl. Avigail."
I lowered my eyes, and I sat still. Again I waited.
"You didn't know this?"
"No, my lord. No one told me," I said. "Perhaps no one knows."
"Oh, they all know," he said. "Jacimus knows."
"Hmmmm, does he?"
"Yes, indeed he does and he knew at the time, and my grandson, on his own, without my blessing, went calling on Shemayah, and that girl no more than thirteen at the time," he said excitedly. He turned this way and that, eyes roving. "And I, I said no, you will not, you will not marry such a young child, not now, and not from Nazareth, I don't care that her father is rich, that her mother was rich, that she's rich. I don't care, you will marry the girl of my choosing of your kindred in Jerusalem. And now this happens! And you come to me about it."
Again his eyes settled on me and he seemed to see me for the first time. I merely looked at him.
"Still playing the village fool, I see," he said. He peered at me as if trying to memorize my face and features.
"My lord, will you write a letter for Avigail, a letter to our kindred in Jerusalem or Sepphoris, or wherever they might be best suited to receive her, to offer her a home of which she can be part? The girl's blameless. The girl's clever. The girl's sweet, and gentle. The girl's modest."
He was surprised. Then he laughed.
"What makes you think Shemayah will let her out of his grip?"
"My lord, if you find such a place, and you write a letter stating this case, if you yourself, Hananel the Judge, should come with us, with the Rabbi and with my father Joseph, we can surely see to it that Avigail is safely taken away to some place very far from Nazareth. A man can say no to the Rabbi in Nazareth. He can say no to the elders in Nazareth. It's not easy to say no to Hananel of Cana, regardless of what's happened before - and I don't know that Shemayah knows anything about your grandson and what happened between you."
"He was for the match," came the flashing response. "Shemayah was for it until my grandson admitted he didn't have my blessing or permission."
"My lord, someone must do something to save this child. She's dying."
I stood up.
"Tell me to whom I can go, what kindred in Sepphoris," I said. "Give a note of introduction. Tell me what household. I'll go there."
"Don't get yourself into a perfect rage," he said, sneering. "Sit down. And be quiet. I'll find a place for her. I know the place. I know more than one."
I sighed, and I murmured a small prayer of thanks.
"Tell me, O pious one," he said. "Why haven't you, yourself, asked for the girl? And don't tell me she's too good for a carpenter. Right now, she's good for nothing."
"She is good," I said. "She's blameless."
"And you, the child of Mary of Joachim and Anna, tell me. I've always wanted to know. Are you a man beneath those robes? A man? You understand me?"
I stared at him. I could feel the heat in my face. I could feel myself begin to tremble, but not to the extent that he could see it. I refused to look away from him.
"A man like other men?" he asked. "You do understand why I ask. Oh, it's not that you don't marry. The prophet Jeremiah didn't marry. But if memory serves me right, and it always does, and I do remember talking in this very place, though not in this house, in another house, with your grandfather Joachim at the time - and if memory serves me right from those days and it does - the angel who announced your birth to your shivering little mother wasn't simply some angel fallen from the Heavenly Court, it was none other than the angel Gabriel."