Joseph watched Jacob, who laboured over the wood, balancing beams under his thick forearms. He took long strides, with his sandals strapped tight and his face gritted.
“Just put them down over there for now, we need to get this beam up,” Joseph said, scratching at the tufts of grey hair along his jaw. He glanced up at the sun midway across the sky. “Where is that boy? He has been gone since dawn. ”
Along the trail at the mouth of the village, he spotted his son. He was moving with clumsy strides, eyes wandering about the clouds and his mouth open ready for rain. He came up the trail to the crest, and when he arrived he stood huffing, holding himself up with hands on knees.
“Sorry it took so long. The well was jammed so I went all the way back to the village to get water.”
“Just get back over there and help Jacob get that support beam up.”
Joseph continued sawing the cross beams. Although the hinges of his fingers were rusted and old, he could still hold a hammer and saw. And his knees cracked like spun glass, but he could still cart a barrow. So he would work until his son was ready to work alone.
Jacob was digging like a drumbeat.
“You’re lucky he’s your dad, some of us have to work hard.”
“Don’t start Jacob, do you think he likes you? you’re a cheap labourer. You will never be a carpenter.”
“You think you will? Your tiny arms can’t pump the pipers well. And why do you need water so early?”
“Just wait, Jacob. I will be the best carpenter, and my pockets will jingle with gold. Maybe I will throw you a piece of bread when you are begging in the court.”
Jacob’s upper arms were cannon balls, pulsing as he drove the spade into the hole, then extracted a load of earth and penetrated again.
“That’s deep enough, labourer.”
“It’s not. do you listen to anything your dad says? This needs to hold the structure up. If this comes down, the house comes down. It must be deeper,” Jacob said as sweat started at his hairline. Under the heavy ridge of his brow, Jacobs blue eyes glanced at the boy. They scrutinized his beard coming in wisps, his gaunt face half-shaded by uncut hair. A churlish laugh jumped from Jacobs’s mouth. “You, a carpenter? can’t wait till the village hears that one.”
The boys eyes fixed on Jacob, his hands softly trembled. “I promise that you will be gone by the end of the day, so keep digging because soon you will be in that hole.”
Joseph’s saw whined through a stack of logs, one at a time, as the boys spoke under weighted breath, keeping their voices out of his reach.
“One day maybe, but you will be down there first.”
“Is that what you think? I’m going to be up there, just watch,” he said, looking to the scattered clouds.
Jacob grabbed the pole and forced it into the hole. With pneumatic tension, he drew it back again and then he drove it into the earth. The two boys waltzed around the base, pressing the loose earth.
Joseph glanced up. He approached with inspecting eyes.
“Good work. Perfect. The hole is deep enough to hold fast, but the pole still has enough length for a high roof. Most of the cross beams have been cut to length. Jacob I will get you to dig the four support beam holes. I have marked the spots with river stones,” he said, then turned to his son, “You come with me, you can help cut the last few beams.”
Joseph marched back and his son skulked in his wake. Jacob started again and with every fall of the spade came a thud, like a dead tree falling upon a dusty plain. It didn’t take long for the four support beams to penetrate the earth, standing like the pillars in the city court.
“Careful Son, don’t upset those nails, they are like gold at the moment and I can’t afford anymore until I have been paid for this house,” Joseph said and the boy eyed the small sack which folded the dry grass under the weight of twenty metallic wedges.
“Finished already are you Jacob?” Joseph beamed. “You can each have a break, we have made good time. Jacob run to the well, take this,” he said, handing over one silver piece. “I ordered a pot to be fired today; it should be at Schlomo’s workshop, give him the coin and tell him you are picking it up for me. Then, fill it with water and bring it back.”
Jacob took the money and swiftly sett off towards the village; he let his over-robe slip from his shoulders.
Joseph took a wide stance, put his hands on his hips, and arched his back. He found a boulder, large enough to fill the grip of a trebuchet, half buried and with a moss corset. In the distance, he could see a lazy shepherd sleeping while his flock grazed. Set above the horizon, he could see a range of ghostlike mountains, mountains he would never get to. At last, his son moved close and seated himself upon the rock. He shot the boy a rueful gaze, and out came an audible breath. Without speaking their eyes cast over the valley.
Jacob’s footfalls preceded his return. Over the crest he came, the pot hugged. He passed it to Joseph, then it began to move about the party, each of them taking a careful mouthful and sending it on. Joseph took a small loaf from his sack and pulled it, they gobbled it down with sloppy tongues and gnashing teeth and then they were back to work.
The beams were set.
“Let's put the frame together. Hand me the nails,” he said taking up his hammer and Jacob quickly began riffling through Joseph’s sack.
“I can’t find them, where are they?”
“I left them over there, don’t tell me you spilled them, boy?”
“No father I didn’t. Jacob, I saw you pick them up before. Where did you put them?”
“I didn’t pick them up. I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Father, believe me, I saw Jacob pick them up, can you not remember where you put them Jacob?” the boy said, gripping his cheeks between his teeth to keep his excitement from escaping. Jacob could see it though.
“Where are they?” Joseph demanded.
“I don’t know what he is talking about Master, I didn’t touch them.”
“What are you talking about, boy?” Joseph’s voice boomed.
“I swear Father, believe me, he must have forgotten where he put them, I promise I saw him pick them up.”
“Well just look about, we can’t afford to lose them, they are too expensive.” The three searched the ground, around the beams, in the grass. Then at last, Joseph lifted Jacob's over-robe, and from the pocket, they fell, hitting the dry grass with a clang. Joseph’s eyes grew wide; he clutched the robes on his chest and watched Jacob. Then the hammer slipped from his grip and he raised his hand toward the village.
“Leave Jacob, you will never be a carpenter, thief!”
“Joseph I don-“
“Thief,” he said and his lips pulled back from his big teeth in scorn. “Thief!”
Jacobs’s eyes grew wide with confusion; he looked to Jesus, palms open like the beggars in the court.
“Tell him the truth please?”
“Thief!” Jesus yelled. His eyes black as a rotted teeth and this time he couldn’t keep the smile concealed.
Spoiler
A/N: This doesn't represent my opinion regarding religion or Christianity. I simply provide a somewhat satirical explanation to the birth of a religion.
