Lazarus, a tale of the world's great miracle/Chapter 32
CHAPTER XXXII.
ROUND a blazing fire in the big hall leading into the court-yard sat the servants of Annas; for part of the daily scheme of Annas's career of hypocrisy was to be generous to his retainers. There were too many secrets hidden in the dark corners of his house for Annas to be able to neglect or quarrel with his servants.
"The good, the merciful Annas."
Thus spoke the house-servants of the much-hated High Priest. Of his own gold he had built a wall that shone and radiated upon him.
Round this fire the servants, men and women, hewers of wood, fetchers of water, grass-cutters, workmen, and maidens congregated to discuss what now had become almost the only topic of conversation amongst all classes. The excitement was increased by the fact of the propinquity of the subject of their conversation, wonder as to what Annas would do, and what the Nazarene would say.
While they talked and laughed and jested, one figure sat gloomily alone, warming his hands at the fire, colder at heart than outwardly, cursing himself for his impetuosity, bemoaning his temporary absence from his Master, fearing to speak, lest his tongue should betray the Galilean dialect, and fearing still more the vengeance of the man whose ear he had struck off. While he sat there his thoughts could not do otherwise than wander back to all the words of the Nazarene.
Why twice had the Christ told him He would deny Him? Surely it would only be in the face of some terrible temptation. What, then, so awful had yet to come to pass? Or spake He only of the heart that deceiveth and denieth alway? His eyes wandered out into the darkness. Surely midnight was long past. Yet no cock had crowed. Could it be that Caiaphas and Annas allowed them not within the precincts, looking upon them as unclean birds? Yet in the Roman quarters, not so far away, there must be some; and surely they had crowed already. There must be some parable in his Master's speech. Would there ever be an opportunity of asking Him?
A serving-woman paused while she began to place the early morning meal on the rough table, and eyed him curiously.
"Surely thou also wast with Jesus of Galilee?"
A blinding of the senses, a terrible panic, a madness of dark terror. "I know not what thou meanest." And he rose and walked to the porch, fearing that they would recognise him, should they look him in the face.
Then the maid turned to the others. "This fellow also was with Jesus of Nazareth; I myself opened the gate to him. Wherefore doth he deny it?"
"Well, what matter?" said one. "Leave him in peace; the end is near at hand."
"But Annas hath given order that none but this fisherman, whom he knoweth, should enter," said the chief steward, referring to John; and all the little group gathered round the porch and one said: "Surely thou also art one of them, for thy speech betrayeth thee; a curse on thy lying Galilean tongue."
"I know not what thou sayest," repeated Peter; and, when all gathered round him curiously, ready with many questions, he continued angrily: "Cursed be ye all, ye questioning, prating fools, I tell ye I know not the Man."
And, on the chilly air, there rose from the Roman quarter the shrill crow of a cock, announcing the first hour of morning; and a pang, that was like a death-blast, shot straight to Peter's heart.
There was a noise of hurried footsteps and clanking swords that jangled on the pavement, and the Nazarene passed by, and while the words rose on his lips, "I know not the Man," the Saviour turned His head and, with the agonised gaze of one who heareth his best friend betray him, He looked at Peter.
One more drop of the cup of bitterness was drunk.
And Peter, covering his face with his hands, rushed out into the night to weep; and again the cock crew on the stilly night.