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the
    remotest and the highest of the caves, a key-shaped hole. It had
    no more than a sloping rock as its yard, hardly bigger than a
    prayer-mat, the perfect perch for eagles. And for angels. But
    Jesus hesitated at the point where he should start to climb down.
    He surely had the right to drink before he embarked on his trials.
    It was not dusk. There was, as yet, no thin and bending moon
    to mark the onset of his fast. God would not come before day
    one. So he could drink. It was not a sin to drink. It would not
    be a sign of weakness, either, if he prepared for quarantine with,
    say, a simple meal, a wash, a rest.
    He'd seen the batwing outline ofMiri's goatskin tent, pitched
    on the flatland of the valley head. He walked towards it. There
    was no one to be seen in the open. But there were goats. If there
    were goats then there was water too. And milk and meat.
    A tethered donkey announced his arrival while he was still
    fifty paces away. Jesus stood, as was the custom, a little distance
    from the open awning of the tent and waited for the greetings
    from within, and the invitation to come forward. He could not
    pay for food and drink. What little money that he had he'd left
    behind that morning in the keeping of the shepherd. But there
    are traditions, even in the wilderness. A traveller can wet his face
    and lips for free.
    23
    He coughed. He clapped his hands. He called out greetings
    of his own. But no one came. That was strange - the tent was
    unattended, and yet the awnings were still raised. Jesus took a
    step or two towards the tent, so that he could see inside more
    clearly. There were the usual signs of domesticity; the rugs and
    mats, the pots, some bread and dates discarded from a meal and
    being finished off by ants, the sacks of grain, the remnants of a
    fire, the skins of water hanging in the shade, the bundled blankets
    on a bed, the row of shoes. But no one there, as far as he could
    tell. Jesus looked around for signs of someone approaching, but
    there were none. He called again, without reply. His patience
    was not endless. He was keen, he told himself, to reach the cave
    before darkness and to begin his fast. He was afraid as well. Mraid
    that he might lose his nerve the moment that he reached the
    precipice, and go back home at once.
    This was not theft. He took a few more steps towards the
    awning and lifted the nearest and the smallest of the water-skins
    off its wooden peg. He stooped and picked up the wasted heels
    of bread, the dates. He rubbed the ants off on his arm. Not
    killing them. Not trying to, at least. They dropped into the dust
    and went about their business, unperturbed. He picked some
    pieces of straw and the small stones from between his toes and
    off his heels. He squeezed out what thorns he could find. His
    feet were bruised and sore. His head had not improved. His
    body ached. Perhaps it would not matter if he went inside, out
    of the sun, if he sat cross-legged within the tent, those blankets
    as a seat, and took his final supper in some comfort. Again -
    with water, bread and dates held in his hands - he took some
    further steps. He left the sun. His eyes were baffled by the
    darkness. While he waited to become accustomed to the gloom
    he heard a whistling throat, as if the bunched-up blankets at his
    ankles were calling out for drink.
    'Who's there?' he said.
    24
    Again a whistling throat.
    'Who's sleeping there?'
    Fevers will allow a period of short lucidity before their victims
    die. Musa became conscious for long enough to hear that one
    word sleeping, and then to register the pains throughout his body.
    His head was spongy like a mushroom. He could feel each vein
    and pipe, each gut and artery, each bone and nerve, highlighted
    by his agony. He was a parched and desert landscape, illuminated
    by lightning. And in that moment when he heard the word he
    saw the face as well. A Jewish face, young and long and womanly.
    A Galilean face. A peasant face. A robber's face, for sure,