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that. His talk with the priests at the Temple—he could get into trouble for saying things like that. Keep him safe, Thomas.”
    â€œI shall, Mother.” In the ignorance of my youth, I was sure I could protect him. Yet how could I have foreseen the horror toward which he projected himself? Even knowing all I do now, could I have done any better?
    So many nights I have lain awake and cursed myself for not seeking some way to silence him instead of supporting his insane vision. Was I mad too? Is this relentless questioning my punishment for failing to keep my promise to my mother?

Chapter Four
    Verse One
    My memories seem clearer the farther back I look into my youth. From my childhood, I see the weathered faces, hear the sharp whacks of mallets and dull drags of saws, and feel the weight of Roman occupation like a centurion’s sandal upon the neck. In images from more recent years, faces are less distinguishable, and sounds are smoothed to murmurs, but the foot of the Empire is no less heavy.
    Perhaps the pall of despair fostered our mischief. Judas was usually the instigator. We were probably still about twelve when he talked Jesus and me into trying to peek in on the women’s bath. As Galileans, some did not comply with all the purity rituals, but most of the women still spent their unclean times of the month at the bath away from their families. “They take off all their clothes when they enter,” Judas said. “We can watch from inside Bazak’s shed.”
    The shed smelled as if Bazak had not cleaned out the sheep dung for months, but it would be a small price to pay if the scheme paid off. We peered through the slats that formed the back of the shed. The bath looked like a small house with a rounded roof, as if it were meant to resemble a cave. It was made mostly of mud and reeds, like material for roofs, and was at the edge of one of the springs where the Nazarene women washed clothes. A ditch had been dug into which spring water flowed where the women sat. A couple of old women came and went carrying jars that probably contained food for the women inside.
    â€œThis is silly,” Jesus said. “We can’t see inside, and no woman is going to undress on the outside.”
    â€œLeave if you like,” I said. “I’m staying.”
    Jesus lay back and napped while Judas and I took turns keeping watch. After about an hour, I sat leaning against the shed when Judas nudged me. “Someone’s here.”
    I spun around and looked through the slats. Two women stood at the bath entrance with their backs to us. They wore sheer, white gowns. One of the old women emerged and spoke to them. The two women dropped their gowns around their ankles.
    The loose, peasant garments Nazarene women wore gave me no hint that such astonishing contours lay beneath. Their backs, cleft by the gentle crease of their backbones, sloped down to narrow waists. Their bottoms mounded like bread loaves. I had seen boys’ bottoms when we swam or bathed together, but the women’s bottoms were rounder, curving outward and under, and were as firm as pomegranates. I felt a stir in my loins, as if I had to piss. I thought about waking Jesus but couldn’t bring myself to break my gaze.
    As she turned to speak to the taller one, I saw the shorter woman’s face. Leah!
    â€œDamn me!” I said. Judas clasped his hand over my mouth.
    Jesus awoke. “What?”
    â€œShhh!” Judas said.
    Leah and the other woman, whom I think was her friend Rebekah, entered the bath, out of sight.
    â€œWho were they?” Judas asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “Let’s go.” I ran home, delighted yet embarrassed. I had thought of Leah as a mere girl, not yet ready to join the company of women.
    After all, I was still a boy.
    Verse Two
    When Jesus and I were sixteen or seventeen years old, James courted a beautiful and kind girl named Sarah. I was baffled that any