In a gala dress of blue with silver embroidery, Martha, her faithful Eli close at hand and girt in a clean towel, awaited the coming of Passover guests, for the few days preceding the Feast were used for visiting, and Lazarus and his sisters had many friends. The first guest to arrive was Huldah, wife of a Temple scribe. Martha opened the door. The servant took his place behind a stool near the door with a basin of water.

“Sit thee down,” Martha said after greetings. “Let thy feet be cooled. The way is dusty for ten thousand feet press to the City of David.”

“Yea, from all the world they come to see the Temple of the Jews,” Huldah answered. “For a week hath the ring of the hammer sounded over the hills where the roadways are made safe, and tombs are fresh whitened that none be rendered unclean. All Jerusalem is a guest chamber. Where is Mary?” and she glanced about the room.

“She is in the garden with Anna and her Capernaum guest Debora. And Debora hath been saying a prophet hath arisen the like of which hath not been seen since Elijah went up in his fiery chariot.”

“A prophet! A prophet!” exclaimed Huldah, greatly interested. “Whence cometh he?”

“From Galilee but the maidens are coming. Ask Debora.”

In festive attire and carrying flowers, Anna and Debora entered the room, followed by Mary, gowned in clinging white caught high on her breast and falling away leaving her arms bare. Her hair had blown softly about her face. Her cheeks were like almond blossoms and a white veil caught around her head by a carved silver chaplet, fell over her shoulders. After the greeting, Huldah turned to Debora.

“Hast thou said a prophet cometh from Galilee?”

“So I have spoken.”

“Out of Galilee ariseth no prophet.”

“From Galilee cometh Jesus of Nazareth.”

“Jesus of Nazareth!” Huldah exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“Hast heard of him?” Martha inquired.

“Jesus son of Gamaliel, successor to Jesus son of Damneus; Jesus son of Sie; Jesus son of Phabet! Be there no end to the Jesus’ sons? And now cometh the worse of them all. Yea, I have heard of him. A wolf in sheep’s clothing a false prophet is he. Never was he taught in the Temple school, yet doth he dare within its sacred portals to teach others. By an evil one is he led.”

“Why dost thou say by an evil one?” asked Debora.

“Dost thou, a daughter of Israel, so ask? Aye, is it not evil to speak against the traditions of the Elders? No worse to blaspheme the Temple itself! Is not Israel the chosen of God, and hath it not been written there is no salvation outside Israel? Had there been no Jew the Law from Sinai had not been given and we too would be unclean as the Gentiles. What worse could one do than set at naught the traditions of the Elders? But this is not all. He doth both harvest and winnow on the Holy Sabbath.”

“Harvest and winnow on the Sabbath?” Martha asked in surprise.

“Yea, and this is not all. He is a friend of publicans.”

“Publicans? Those vile wretches who filch from the pockets of Israel to pay for the pageantry of Rome?” It was Anna who questioned.

“Yea, and this is not all. He is also a friend of the defiled Samaritan, friendly as a brother is he with these heathen and and ” she whispered, “he keepeth company with harlots.”

“Harlots!” exclaimed the maidens under their breath.

“Yea what manner of prophet thinkest thou this be?”

“Hast thou thyself seen the evil things of which thou beareth witness?” Debora asked of Huldah.

“Nay, but such are the reports.”

“Our guest Debora hath both seen the face of him and heard his voice,” Mary observed.

Huldah laughed. “And what so easy for a false prophet to deceive with smooth speech and searching eyes, as a maiden’s heart? But enough of such talk as doth vex the Rabbis. See thou my cloth of gold? With my needle I shall make it gay with crimson pomegranates.” Huldah took her embroidery from her bag, and the young women stood around admiring her work when voices were heard outside. Martha turned to the lattice window and looked out.

“More pilgrims are coming. A mother in Israel is to be our guest. She cometh with a neighbor and leaneth heavily on her staff. Mary Mary! It is Elizabeth. Hasten to meet her.”

Mary hurried out. When she had gone Huldah asked, “Who is this aged Elizabeth?”

“Knowest thou not? She is the mother of John the Baptiser whose head Herod did give as a bauble to the vile Herodias.” Huldah rose hurriedly and looked out the window.

“The mother of John Baptist, he who did come from the caves of the mountains with the garment of a wolf, the beard of a lion and the voice of a bear. Jerusalem turned out to hear the man. Possessed of a devil was he. Aye, and the hair of his mother be white like the cap of snow that sits on Hermon’s head. Verily a foolish son bringeth down his mother’s hair in sorrow. If the Rabbis are not able to teach the Law, shall one wild from the desert be able? For attending to business not his own lost he his head.”

“Lean on me,” said Mary, just outside the door. “My feet have not traveled the hard path so long.”

“The blessing of Jéhovah on thee, my daughter,” Elizabeth replied as they came up the steps. In ample black drapery and wearing a widow’s headdress, the aged woman entered. “Peace be to this house and to thy hearts, my daughters,” she said with upraised hands. She was conducted to a wide armchair, and Mary threw back her black mantle and Eli unloosed her sandals.

“There are many pilgrim feet pressing toward the Passover Feast,” Huldah said.

“Yea, my daughter. And some whose feet pressed the pilgrim path last year have gone on a longer pilgrimage, a farther journey than to the City of Zion yea to the Heavenly Zion have they gone.” Elizabeth rested her head wearily against the back of the chair and tears rolled down her withered cheeks. Mary knelt beside her and taking her hands said gently, “Weep not! From our brother have we heard what Herod hath done. It was cruel, aye, cruel as the grave to take thine son the only son of thine old age. But weep not!”

“Cruel as the grave! So seemeth it. Yet the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. The Lord truly blessed me in that it was given me to be the mother of a prophet. Strange too, was it, for the spring-time of my life had gone. Yea, the ten years had passed after which the Israelite may give a writing of divorcement to a barren wife. Yet did the love of my husband live and in the fulness of time to us a son was born. A Nazarene did he grow, neither cutting his beard, nor drinking wine nor looking on women. And as Elijah came from the wilds of Gilead to confound Ahab, so came the son of my bosom from the wilds of Judea crying in the ear of an adulterous generation, ’Prepare ye! Prepare! There cometh one after me whose shoe latchet I am not worthy to unloose.’ And as he did declare, so hath that mightier appeared aye, the hope of Israel. Not a Nazarene is he. Came he both eating and drinking and loving womankind, and lo! of him they say ’a wine bibber and a glutton.’ But, daughters, wisdom be justified of her children. Lo, he that hath been promised to restore again the glory of Israel is even now in the City of our God!”

“Strange words thou speakest,” said Huldah.

“Thou dost not speak of Jesus of Nazareth?” Mary asked.

“Even of him,” the aged woman answered.

“Art thou of his acquaintance?” Debora asked with interest.

“Even more, for was not the mother of her who bare Jesus even the sister of my father?”

“Thy kinsman he is? Thou hast looked upon his face and heard the wondrous voice that doth drive away fever?”

“Yea, have I seen and heard, both the son and his mother and father, for twice did I visit under the roof of my cousin.”

“His mother what of her? Is she skilled in savoring rich sop?” Martha asked.

“She hath not possessed the wherewithal to make rich sop, yet in her veins runneth the blood of kings. Of the house of David hath she come.”

“And where hath she been in hiding, this royal-blooded Jewess?” Huldah asked.

“In the rude home of a Galilean peasant, for poverty hath been her lot. Yea, in the stone feed-trough of a cattle shed was Jesus born because his father had not the price of keep at the inn. A little lad at Nazareth was he when I first saw him.”

“A little lad,” Mary repeated. “What manner of little lad was he?”

“Beside his mother’s knee he heard stories of the brave and mighty of Israel. He walked with his mother by the sea and in the fields. He loved the fowls of the air, the hares and the foxes. And such questions did he ask as no man hath wisdom to answer. While his mother toiled he played with the children of the village. When they played funeral right vigorously would he weep with the mourners. When they played wedding with those who piped, piped he, and with those who danced, danced he until his small garments, like wings, flew apace. Mild was he and obedient, yet when his hand was lifted in wrath it did strike hard. Once he did fight. Aye, and a good fight it was and over the wall did he send with the speed of a wild ass and fierce blows, a lad twice his size. His mother did bind his black eye in a fig leaf poultice and tell him fighting were not good for little lads. I remember yet his face as he did make answer, ’Woman, know’st thou not our father David did smite a giant which did torment Jehovah’s chosen ones? Even so did I smite him who was plucking hair from the head of a feeble child who could do naught but cry out. For this did I send him over the wall, and no more will he do this evil thing when I am nigh.’”

“Blessings on him,” laughed Debora, clapping her hands.

“My heart goeth out to such a lad,” Mary said.

“What for?” Huldah asked. “For making bloody another lad’s nose?”

“If so be that to bloody a nose is the only way to stay the hand of oppression.”

“And yet another time did I see him,” Elizabeth continued. “At a wedding in Cana, when he had grown to man’s estate. Merry were the guests with feasting and shouting when the wine did fall short. In an outer room were some firkins which Jesus did order filled with water. When the water was drawn out, it was wine.”

“This is no sign of a prophet,” Huldah answered quickly. “Ofttimes have I with a cup of grape sirup well thickened, made a kid skin of wine. What sign hath he given of being a prophet that hath not already been given?”

“From the dungeon my John asked this question,” Elizabeth answered slowly. “After other things did Jesus say, ’Tell John I have come to bring the gospel to the poor.’”

Huldah laughed heartily. Then she said, “Of a surety this is a sign no prophet hath given. The poor? Who taketh account of the poor? Poverty is a visitation of Jéhovah. Ever have the poor been despised and forsaken. Cursed be the lot of the poor yea, thrice cursed!”

“Yea, cursed be the lot of the poor. Even was this the lot of Jesus of Galilee. Oft was his food but dried locusts. Oft bore his thin garments many patches. Oft was a heavy yoke put on the burden of his childish shoulders. For this pitieth he the poor.”

“Locusts for the belly; patches for the back; a yoke for the shoulders! Shame on Israel that of this sort it would call a king even from Galilee where women labor in the field and men like cattle toil!” and Huldah’s lip curled with scorn.

“The toiler toileth that Herod may make great banquets. Pilate doth ride in a golden chariot and Cæsar feed men to tigers. When cometh the King of the Jews, such will be done away with, for again will slaves be set free and the Year of Jubilee proclaimed.”

“A king must be a King not a herder of sheep or a driver of oxen,” was Huldah’s emphatic reply.

“Was not our glorious David a keeper of sheep before the crown was put upon his head? Not whence he cometh, but the kind he is, doth decide the quality of kings,” Mary observed thoughtfully.