The objects in the room, and the room itself, possessed the distinctive clarity of a dream. All the same, she did not feel as if she was asleep; all her senses were keen and sharp-never had she been so aware, so alert, so alive.
The room in which she stood was large, and before her a low table was prepared for a meal. It was surrounded by rugs and cushions in the Eastern manner, and spread with a fine blue cloth; there were bowls of various sizes, and jars of several shapes and kinds, but there was no food.
Through the open window a soft breeze was blowing, and she could hear the dull clinking of a cattle bell outside. The soft evening air held the scent of the East, of sun-baked earth, of sandalwood and jasmine.
Stepping around the table, she moved to the window and peered out. The room overlooked the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, some of which had small palm trees in pots, or booths of striped cloth stretched over wooden frames. She heard the bell again and looked down into the narrow street below, where a shepherd in a ragged cloak herded a small flock of sheep led by a shaggy, long-necked goat.
From further up the street came the sound of laughter. A group of men entered the street-six or eight of them together-dark-haired, bearded, all dressed in loose, belted robes, and each carrying a cloak of light material rolled upon his shoulder. They walked with the easy familiarity of brothers, or soldiers; full of bluster and confidence, jostling one another good-naturedly; one or two had their arms around the shoulders of their fellows. They were happy, laughing, talking loudly, luxuriating in the exuberance of their companionship.
Cait envied their enthusiasm-so light, so effusive. Men and sheep met in the middle of the street, and there was a momentary impasse, before one of the men gave out a shout and stamped his feet, which sent the sheep leaping over one another in a frantic effort to get by. The shepherd cried out in alarm, and shaking his staff at the raucous youths he ran after his flock. The men bleated like sheep, and continued on up the street, arriving beneath Cait's window, where they stopped.
Not wishing to be seen, she backed away, and a moment later heard voices in the house in the room below her. Then she heard feet on wooden steps and the voices grew louder. They were coming up!
She spun around, searching for a place to hide, and saw, at the far end of the room, one of two wooden pillars which supported the central roof beam; beside one of the pillars stood a large woven reed basket containing rolled-up rugs. Moving to the pillar, she slipped behind it, as the company trooped into the room, talking all the while in a language Cait could not understand.
They were dark-skinned young men, most with short dark beards and long hair, which some of them wore neatly plaited with curled sidelocks at either temple, and others loose in a shaggy mane. Some of them, she saw, carried cloth bags which they proceeded to empty on to the table: bread in large, flat rounds, dried fish, and grapes. More voices sounded from the street. One of the men leaned out of the window and shouted down to those below as feet pounded on the stairs, and more men burst happily into the room to be welcomed by their fellows.
Sacks of food were produced, and jars of oil in carriers of knotted grass. Cait became aware of the smell of roasting meat, and two men appeared, carrying a whole spitted lamb on an enormous wooden platter. They had no sooner set down the roast lamb when three more men came in bearing a huge open jug of wine, into which the jars on the table were immediately plunged. Several women arrived, dressed in similar fashion to the men; the cloth of their garments was finer stuff, however, and more brightly coloured, and they wore flowers in their long, black hair. Some brought bowls heaped high with blue-black olives, and others bowls of dates stuffed with almonds.
The room was soon full of people, and still more were crowding in. With everyone talking at once the sound was a noisy babble, but the commotion served to lessen Cait's fear of discovery. Plucking up her courage, she moved to stand beside the pillar as the festivities commenced. Everywhere men and women were talking, quickly, excitedly, eyes and teeth glinting with laughter. Suddenly one of the young men approached Cait's pillar and pulled a rolled-up rug from the basket. She made to step behind the pillar once more, but the fellow merely smiled at her and hurried away.
The talking and laughter continued unabated, but Cait sensed a change in the room. Like an eddy in a swift-running stream, the happy commotion suddenly swirled with new intensity and depth, and the room suddenly seemed brighter. She felt a shiver of excitement course through the gathering-as when the king arrives in a Yuletide hall, or the bride appears at a wedding party.
She searched for the source of the commotion, and saw that more celebrants had entered and were clustered in a tight knot by the door. She strained for a glimpse of who it might be; then the crowd parted and he stepped into the room.
He wore a simple belted mantle, the sleeves of which were rolled up to the elbows. Like the other young men, his cloak was folded on his shoulder, but where the others favoured the brighter colours, his was the pale, unassuming grey of day-labourers and the poor. His beard was dark and curly, his brow even, his swarthy skin darkened by long days in the sun. His eyes were large and deep-set, his glance quick and keen.
'Master! Yeshua!' called one of the young men. 'How do you like the room we have found for you?'
'You have done well, Nathanael,' replied the master.
It was just as you said it would be.'
'Yeshua…' Cait whispered the name under her breath.
If, in appearance, he was a simple labourer, in bearing he was an emperor: head erect, shoulders straight, confidence and nobility flowed from every movement. Even from across the room, Cait could tell from his winsome smile that he was the source of the exuberance she and all the others felt. He was the sun whose presence warmed all who stood within the circle of his bright radiance.
He was smiling and laughing with the others, and as Cait watched he removed his cloak and laid it aside. He took up an empty bowl from the table and filled it with water from one of the jugs. Taking a cloth, he wrapped it around his waist and began moving among the crowd of friends. He stopped near to Cait's corner where two burly young men were talking; he knelt down and without a word began washing the feet of one of the fellows. The man laughed and stepped back, cheerfully declining the service, but Yeshua persisted, and so the fellow relented and allowed water to be poured over his dusty feet.
When he finished, he turned to the second man-a stocky, rough-handed fellow – who remonstrated more forcefully. They were near enough for Cait to hear what was said, and as they spoke, intelligible words gradually emerged from the welter of speech that filled the room. 'Master!' cried the man. 'What are you doing? Get up from there. Heaven forbid you should wash my feet.'
'Peace, brother,' Yeshua said. 'Let me do this.'
'Never!' protested the young man; his arms were big, and his shoulders massive. He stood a head taller than anyone around him and his voice boomed out with the force of a man who has lived his life in wide open places. At his objection, others standing nearby turned to see what was happening. 'Rather it is I who should wash you.'
'Hardheaded Kepha,' replied Yeshua, 'do you not understand? Unless I wash you now, you can have no part of my kingdom later.'
'Very well,' said the big fisherman, thrusting out his arms, 'then wash my hands and head as well.'
'Take a bath if you must, Shimeon,' answered Yeshua, resuming his duty. 'Your big feet are labour enough for me.'