The Coming of the King
9781465646828
313 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Through the open doorway and latticed window of a peasant's hut, the sunset colors of a Palestine sky glowed red. The only occupant of the room was an aged woman, thin haired and bent, who moved slowly about preparing the evening meal. She stopped beside a dingy little oven on one end of the bed platform, and bending stiffly to the floor gathered up a few handsful of stubble which she thrust into the fire. As the quick flames rose under her kettle she stirred her brew muttering: "Do not two sparrows go for a farthing and yet have we no flavor for our sop. It was not so in the days of our fathers." Stirring and muttering she did not notice the approach of a young girl who had entered the room, until an armful of chaff was dropped by the oven. With a start she, turned about. "Sara!" she cried, "thou comest like a thief in the night. Singing doth better become thee." "There is no song in me. Empty is my stomach, and look you," and she pointed across the room to a pile of nets beside a wooden bench. "There are three score rents to mend and the day is done." She turned to the doorway and for a moment stood looking out, barefooted, meanly clad and unkept, yet of comely form and with abundant dark hair falling around an oval face of more than ordinary beauty. She sighed and turned back into the room. "Thou shalt eat," and the aged woman took bread from the oven and placed it on a wooden table in the center of the room. "Sit thee down." Sara sat down and glanced over the small table. "Bread and unseasoned sop!" she exclaimed. "And water," cheerfully added Grandmother Rachael, as she poured the contents of a skin bottle into a pitcher. After the washing of hands from a bowl on a stool at the table side, the aged woman muttered thanks and the evening meal began. "It goeth down hard," Sara complained. "But it was not so in the days of our fathers," her companion reminded her. "Then there was plenty and each man sat under his own vine and fig tree, for by the law of Moses no man was allowed to collect usury, so sayeth the Rabbi." Hardly had the meal begun when, unnoticed by either of the women, a fisherman entered. His muscular arms were uncovered; the short skirt of his garment scarce reached his knees. His heavy dark hair was pushed back from his forehead and the dying sunset falling over his swarthy face and neck gave him the appearance of bronze. He stopped behind Sara and spoke her name.
