The Brook Kerith. George Moore

that once a boy came late for his lessons his truancy became common. Moreover, Sir, my time is of importance, Azariah declared, his hairy nostrils swelling at the thought of the half hour he had been kept waiting. But may we finish Menander's comedy? Joseph asked, for he was curious to learn if Moschion succeeded in obtaining his father's leave to marry the girl he had put in the family way. The lovers' plan was to ingratiate themselves with the father's concubine and to persuade her to get permission to rear and adopt the child. Yes, Joseph, the father relents. But it would please me, Sir, to learn why he relents. And Joseph promised that he would be for a whole year in advance of his time rather than behind it. He did not doubt that he would be able to keep his promise, for he had found a new way to Tiberias; a deserted way it seemed to be at first, and most propitious, without the temptations of ball-players, but as the season advanced the lane became infested by showmen on their way to Tiberias: mummers, acrobats, jugglers, fortune-tellers, star-mongers, dealers in charms and amulets, and Joseph was tempted more than once to stop and speak with these random folk, but the promise he had given Azariah was sufficiently powerful to inspire a dread and a dislike of these, and to avoid them he sought for a third way to Tiberias and found one: a path through an orchard belonging to a neighbour who was glad to give him permission to pass through it every morning, which he did, thereby making progress in his studies till one day, by the stile over which his custom was to vault into the quiet lane, he came suddenly upon what seemed to him like a small encampment: wayfarers of some sort he judged them to be, but of what sort he could not tell at first, there being some distance and the branches of an apple-tree between him and them.

      But as he came through the trees, he decided in his mind that they were the servitude of some great man: varlets, hirelings or slaves. But his eyes fell on their baskets and—deceived by the number and size of these—the thought crossed his mind that they might be poulterers on their way to Tiberias. But whatever their trade they had no right to encamp in the orchard, and he informed them politely that the orchard belonged to friends of his, and that large and fierce dogs were loose about the place. For his warning they thanked him, saying they'd make off at once; remarking as they made their preparations for going that they did not think they were doing any harm by coming into the orchard, having only crossed the stile to rest themselves.

      Going with poultry to Tiberias? Joseph said. Not with poultry, Sir, the varlets answered. We are not poulterers, but cockers. Cockers! Joseph repeated, and on reading the blank look in his face they told him they were the servants of a great Roman who had sent them in search of fighting cocks; for a great main was going to be fought that day in Tiberias. We are his cockers, a man said (he spoke with some slight authority, the others seemed to be in his charge), and have been far in search of these birds. He pointed to the baskets and asked Joseph if he would care to see the cocks, and as if to awaken Joseph's curiosity he began to tell their pedigrees. That one, he said, is a Cilician and of a breed that has won thousands of shekels, and a bird in the basket next him is a Bythinian brown-red, the victor in many a main, and the birds in the next three baskets are Cappadocian Duns, all of celebrated ancestry, for our master will have none but the finest birds; and if you happen to know of any good birds, price will not stand in the way of our purchasing them. Joseph answered that he had not heard of any, but if he should—You'll not forget us, said a small meagre woman with black shining eyes in a colourless face, drab as the long desert road she had come by. Joseph promised; and then a short thick-set man with matted hair, and sore eyes that were always fixed on the ground, opened one of the baskets and took out a long lean bird, which he held in shining fingers for Joseph's admiration. Listen to him, cried the woman in a high thin voice. Listen to him, for no one can set a cock a-sparring like him. The servants consulted among themselves in a language Joseph did not understand, and then, as if they had come to an agreement among themselves, the foreman said, approaching Joseph and cringing a little before him, that if the little master could assure them they would not be disturbed by dogs, they would like to show him the cocks. A little exercise, the man said, would be of advantage to the birds—to those that were not fighting that morning—he added, and the man whom the woman nicknamed The Heeler, a nickname acquired from the dexterity with which he fitted the cock's heels with soft leather pads, said: you see, master, they may fight and buffet one another for a space without injury.

      Joseph watched the birds advance and retire and pursue each other, and after this exhibition they were put back into their baskets and covered with hay. So you are the Heeler? Joseph asked. The man grinned vacantly, and the woman answered for him. There is none like him in this country for fixing a pair of spurs, for cutting the tail and wings and shortening the hackle and the rump feathers. You see, young Master, the comb is cut close so that there shall be no mark for t'other bird's bill. And who knows but you'd like to see the spurs, Master. And she showed him spurs of two kinds, for there are cocks that fight better with long spurs and cocks that fight better with short. And how many days does it take to train a cock? Joseph asked, and they began to tell him that a fighting cock must be fed with bread and spring water, and have his exercise—running and sparring—every day. It was the woman that kept Joseph in chat, for the men were busy carrying the baskets over the stile and placing them in mule cars that were waiting in the lane. But, young Master, she said, if you've never seen a cock-fight come with us, for a better one you'll never live to see. The best birds in Western Asia will be in Tiberias to-day. Joseph did not answer this invitation at once, for he did not altogether like this woman nor her manner of standing near to him, her black shining eyes fixed upon him. But he was like one infected, and could not escape from his desire to see a cock-fight. He knew that Azariah would never forgive him for keeping him waiting … waiting for how long? he asked himself. Till he cares to wait no longer, his conscience answered him. He was going to get into great trouble, but he could not say no to the cockers, and he followed them, asking himself when he should escape from the evil spirit which—at their instigation, perhaps—had taken possession of him. A moment after he was assuring himself that the folk he had fallen in with were ignorant of everything but cockering, without knowledge of witchcraft, star-mongering or sortilege—the servants of some great Roman, without doubt, which was sufficient assurance that though they might be cock stealers on occasion they were not kidnappers. Besides, in frequented lanes and in Tiberias the stealing of a boy was out of the question, and after seeing one or two cocks killed he could return home, for he need not wait till the end. He could not help himself, he must see the great red and yellow bird strike his spur through the head of his adversary, as the Heeler told him he had never failed to do in many combats. And he would not fail now, though he was two years old, which is old for a fighting cock. You see, little Master, the woman said, they be not as quick on their legs as they get older, nor are they as eager to fight. To-day's battle will be his last—win or lose—and if he conies out alive at the end he'll go to the hens, which will be more frolicsome than having spurs driven into his neck as happened three months gone by, but it didn't check his spirit, she continued, he killed his bird and let off one great crowing before he toppled over: we thought he was gone, but I sucked his wound, bathed it with salt and water, and you see he's none the worse to-day.

      At every turning of the lane the demon seemed to propel Joseph more violently, till at last he put Azariah out of his head and began to ask himself if he would be guilty of any great sin in going to see the cock-fight? Of any sin greater than that of following the custom of the heathen? His father might be angry, but there'd be no particular atonement: a fast day, or some study of the law, no more, for he'd be careful not to raise his eyes to the gods and goddesses that beset the streets and public places in Tiberias. And on this resolve he followed the cockers into the city. He was glad to see that many statues stood on the roofs of the buildings and so far away that no faces or limbs were visible; but the statues in the streets were difficult to avoid seeing. Worst of all, the cock-fight that he thought would be fought in the open air had been arranged to happen in a great building—a theatre or circus—he did not know which. Joseph had never seen so great a crowd before, and the servants he had come with pointed out to him their master among a group of Romans. The Jews from Alexandria, he was told, came to these games, and this caused his conscience to quicken, for he had heard his father speak of the Alexandrian Jews as heretics. Azariah did not hold such orthodox views, but what his tutor's views were about cock-fighting Joseph did not know; and when he asked if he might approach the ring he was told that the circle about the ring was for the Romans and those whom they might invite, but he'd be able to see very