Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt (21 page)
Read Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt Online
Authors: Anne Rice
And it was by listening to some of this outpouring that I learned a lot about the village, a lot I wanted to know and some things I didn't want to know.
I learned a lot of things from the other children of the village, from Blind Marya who was always in her father's courtyard and full of laughter and ready talk, and from the boys who came to play, Simon the Fool, who really wasn't a fool, but who laughed all the time and was very kind, and Jason the Fat, who was fat, and Round James and Tall James and Bold Michael, and Daniel the Zealot, who was called that because he went at everything "in a fury."
But from no one did I really learn the answers to the questions that were now eating at my heart. I struggled to remember the things my mother had said to me. I did this while I was working at something, like the slow polishing of a table leg or while we were walking up the hill and down to the school. But even then we were all talking or singing, and I couldn't really think. I did remember, really, what she'd said. I remembered it in pictures. An angel had come, an angel to my mother, and no man had been my father, but what did such a thing mean?
I thought when I could, but ours was a busy life.
What time there was from work, I went to the Rabbis. I didn't want to leave them at all. Rabbi Berekhaiah was curious about Alexandria and asked me many questions. He liked to hear me talk, and so did his wife Miriamne, who was the rich one and not so old, and her father, whose hair was white, was often in the room listening to us talk.
Rabbi Berekhaiah had read the scrolls of Philo given him by our family, and he had questions about Philo which I answered, saying always how kind Philo had been, and how he'd taken me to the Great Synagogue just to see it, and how Philo studied the Law and the Prophets and spoke on them as a Rabbi himself, though he was a bit too young perhaps, said some. And I told all about Philo's house and how beautiful it had been, insofar as it was proper to say so.
A carpenter had to be careful what he said about the houses of those for whom he worked. A house was a private place. I'd always been taught that. But Philo's house had been full of young pupils, and the Rabbis of Alexandria had come and gone there, and so it seemed all right to describe the patterns of the marble floors, and the racks of scrolls to the ceiling.
We talked too about the harbor of Alexandria, and about the Great Lighthouse which I had seen most clearly when we'd sailed away. And I told of the temples, which even a good Jewish boy couldn't help seeing as they were everywhere and very fine, and of the marketplace where one could buy almost anything in the world, and one heard people speaking Latin as well as Greek, and so many other tongues.
I could speak some Latin, but not much.
They were happy to hear about the ships, too, and we had seen so many in Alexandria because it had not only the seafaring ships that went to Greece and Rome and Antioch and the Holy Land, but also the riverboats coming in from the Nile.
Sometimes I thought that I saw Alexandria more clearly than ever in these talks because in answers to the questions of Miriamne and the Old Rabbi, the fatherin-law of Bere-khaiah, I had to remember so much. I spoke of the library, which had been rebuilt after Julius Caesar had been so foolish as to burn it. And I spoke about the special Festival of the Jews when we had celebrated the translation of the Law and the Prophets and all the sacred books into Greek.
Now here in Nazareth, no one was going to teach in Greek, but many spoke Greek, especially in Sepphoris where all the soldiers of the King spoke it, and most of the craftsmen, and these Rabbis spoke it and read it. They knew the Scripture in Greek. They had copies of it. They said so. But Hebrew was the language of our learning here, and our tongue, Aramaic, was the daily tongue. In the synagogue, the Scripture was read out in Hebrew, and then the Rabbi explained it in the common tongue. That way, if someone didn't know the sacred language, he or she could still understand.
I could have spent all my time with my Rabbi Bere-khaiah. But it was not to be.
Very shortly after we started work on the house, Joseph and I had to go into Sepphoris because there was so much work to be had there, and people were in need of shelter due to the terrible war, and they had the means to pay. Joseph would not take the double wages they offered him, one after another, but held to what we had made for a day's work in Alexandria, and took those jobs where he thought what we knew would be used for the best.
He and his brothers, and my uncle Cleopas, could walk through the ruins of a house, talk to the owners about it, and then put it back the way it had been, even going to the painters and the plasterers and the masons, and taking care of all of it as they'd done in Egypt with ease. James and I knew how to go to the marketplace and pick the laborers from the men who stood around.
But no matter what we did, there was a lot of lifting and holding and carrying, and coughing in the dust and the ashes, and I was frightened by the talk of the trouble in Jerusalem where men said that in the Temple a full rebellion was going on. The land of Judea was full of fighting, and there were bandits hiding in the Galilean hills.
There was talk even of some young men, in spite of all that had happened in Galilee, going up to Jerusalem to fight in this war, that it was a holy cause.
Meanwhile the Romans tried everywhere in Judea to put down the rebellion, and they still had the Arabs marching with them, and the Arabs burned Judean villages. And the whole family of King Herod was still in Rome fighting and disputing before Augustus, as to who should be King.
My teeth no longer chattered in fear no matter what I heard, and our family didn't talk of it very much. All around us buildings for a King Herod, whoever he might be, were rising up. Men came from everywhere too, to mend rooftops, to fetch fresh water for those who worked, to mix and daub paint and lay mortar for stones, and our clan had many friends among those who had so much work they did not know how to say yes to all of it.
My uncle Cleopas looked around and said: "Now Sep-phoris will be bigger than ever."
"But who will be King?" I asked.
He made a sound which showed his disgust for the family of Herod. But Joseph looked at him and he didn't say the words he wanted to say.
The Romans were still in the city, moving about to keep the peace, on the watch for the rebels out of the hills, and hearing the constant complaints of the people—their woes as to this son who was missing, or that house that should not have been burned, and sometimes the soldiers threw up their hands and cried for silence because they didn't know what to do about it.
The soldiers drank in open taverns, and at the street corners where they bought their food. They watched us at our work. The scribes were busy writing letters for them to their womenfolk and their children.
This was a Jewish city. I saw it by and by. There were no pagan temples here at all. There were few public women to hang around with soldiers, only the older tavern keeper women, and sometimes they had their own men. The soldiers yawned and threw a glance at our women as they came and went, but what could they see? Our women were always in their proper robes, and with their shawls and their veils.
Very different from Alexandria where there had been so many Greek and Roman women always in the crowds. They were veiled many of them, too, and modest, but there was another sort that hung about the public houses. We were never supposed to look at them, but we could not help it sometimes.
Here it was a different story.
When bad news came in of fighting in Jerusalem, people gathered in groups to talk about it, and they stared at the soldiers, and the soldiers became hard and they stopped being friendly and stood in bands on the streets. But nothing happened.
As for our family, and many many others, we went right on working no matter what the news. We prayed as we worked, under our breath. As we gathered to eat our little meal mid-day, we blessed the Lord and we blessed our food and drink. Then back to work we went.
I didn't mind all those times. But studying in Nazareth was better.
What I loved the most besides studying were our walks to and from Sepphoris because the air was warm and the harvest was almost finished, and the trees were full everywhere I looked. The blossoms were gone from the almond trees, but so many other trees were full of beautiful leaves. On every walk I saw new things.
I wanted to go off the road and wander in the woods, but we couldn't do this. So I'd run ahead sometimes and wander a little. Someday, I thought, there'll be time for wandering to the little villages everywhere in the little valleys, but for now life was full.
How could anyone ask for more than we had?
19
I DON'T KNOW how many days it was before I began to feel sick.
A fever came on me in the afternoon. Cleopas knew it before I did, and then James, too, said that he was sick, and Cleopas put his hand to my forehead and said we had to go back to Nazareth now.
Joseph carried me the last hour of the way. I woke up thirsty and my throat hurt, and my mother was frightened as she put me to bed. Little Salome was also sick. It turned out four of us, and then five were bedded down in the same room.
I could hear coughing everywhere around me, and my mother kept putting water to my lips. I heard my mother say to James, "You have to drink it! Wake up!" Little Salome was moaning and when I touched her, she was hot.
My mother was talking to me: "Who knows what it is," she said. "It could be from the Romans. They could have brought it. It could be that we've been away and now we're home. No one else in the village is sick—only our little ones."
But my aunt Mary was sick, too. Cleopas brought her in and laid her down. He said her name. He said it as if he was angry, but he wasn't. And she wouldn't answer him. These things I saw but I was half asleep. Old Sarah sang to us. When I couldn't see her clearly in the shadows, I could hear her voice.
My whole body hurt me—my shoulders, my hips, my knees—but I could sleep. I could dream.
For the first time it seemed to me that sleep was a place.
When I look back on it, I know that up to that point in my life, I always fought sleep. I never really wanted to run away into it. Even when I was afraid in the hills and the fires were burning, I wanted the fire to go away, the angry bandits to go away. I didn't want to flee into sleep. Flee into my mother's arms, yes. Flee to our own safe house, yes. But not to sleep.
But now, in this sickness, when my shoulders and legs were hurting me, it felt good to tumble down into deep sleep.
I dreamed while I was still awake. It was the most pleasant dream I'd ever had. I knew I was in Nazareth. I knew my mother was there and my aunt Mary was lying close by. I knew I was safe.
But at the same time I was walking in a palace. It was far larger than Philo's house in Alexandria, and when I came to the edge of the room, I saw the blue sea. The rocks went up on either side, and the coastline curved, and there were torches down below in the garden. So many torches. Columns held the roof over my head. I knew the style of the columns, the carved acanthus leaf capitals.
On a marble bench, there sat a being with wings. He looked like a man, a very comely man. I thought of Absolom, the son of David, who had been comely, and the strangest
thing happened: this man on the bench grew longer, fuller hair.
"You're trying to look like Absolom," I said.
"Oh, you're very clever for your age, aren't you?" he said. "The Rabbi loves you." He had a soft musical voice. His eyes were blue like the sea. There was a shine to his eyes. There was green and red embroidery along his tunic, a vine full of the tiniest flowers. He smiled at me. "I knew you'd like that," he said. "What I want to know is . . . what do you think you're doing here?"
"Here? In this palace?" I asked. "I'm dreaming, of course." I laughed at him. I heard my laughter in the dream. I looked out over the sea and I saw the clouds piled high in the sky, and on the far limit of the sea, I saw ships moving. It seemed I could see the oars dipping, and the men at the helm. How clear was everything under the full moon.
All was beauty around me.
"Yes, it's a palace fit for an Emperor," he said. "Why don't you live in such a palace?"
"Why should I?" I asked.
"Well, certainly it's better than the dirt and filth of Nazareth," he said in his gracious tongue with his gracious smile.
"Are you certain of that?" I asked.
"I lived in both," he said. His face went dark. He looked at me with contempt.
I looked at the ships again, moving so fast, so smoothly out under the moon, sailing at night when night was a dangerous time for sailing, but so beautiful.
"Yes, they're coming out of Ostia," he said, "those beautiful galley ships. Your Archelaus is eager to be home. And so are his brothers and his sister."
"I know," I answered.
"Who are you!" he demanded. He was impatient. After all, this dream would shortly come to an end. All dreams came to an end.
I looked at him. He was angry and he was trying to hide it. He couldn't hide it. He made me think of my little brothers. But he was no child.
"And you're no child either!" he said.
"Oh, I see now," I said with the greatest satisfaction. "I didn't before. When you're with me like this, you don't know what's going to happen, do you? You don't know what's to come!" I laughed and I laughed. "That's your doom that you don't know how it will end."
He became so angry that he couldn't keep the smile on his face.
But as his smile broke up, he began to cry. He couldn't hold it back. It was a grown man's broken crying, which I'd almost never seen. "You know that I am what I am from love," he said. "This that I am is from love."
I felt sad for him. But I had to be careful. He had his hand to his face, and he was looking at me through his fingers. Crying, yes, but watching me, and it filled me with terrible misery to look at him. I didn't want to look at him. I could not do anything for him.
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