Mary Magdalene: A Novel (13 page)

RUN!

Get away!

But this time the voices were not strong and forceful, they were fearful. She tried to move, but her feet were like stone. She stared up into a rugged yet tender face, beautiful in its compassion. Sunlight seemed to be in the eyes that held her captive, and she was wrapped in a love so profound she swayed toward him.

“Mary.”

She struggled to speak. “Y-you know my n-name?”

“I have always known you.”

Then he spoke to the forces that whimpered and struggled within her. “How many are you?”

Through her mouth a terrified voice cried, “We are seven. Do not torture us, we know who you are, you are the Son of—”

“Be silent.” Then in a voice that echoed with authority, “Leave her!”

Tossing her onto the ground like a sack of flour, with a low wail, the forces that had troubled her for so long left her body. She lay still a moment, then, gentle hands lifted her to her feet and she heard a strong, compassionate voice. “You are free, daughter of Abraham. They shall trouble you no more.”

Relief and joy poured through her being. Her head cleared, and for the first time in years, she felt herself again. The voices that had assailed her every moment of the day were silent. A mantle of peace settled over her as she looked slowly around and up at the blue sky. She felt the sun in her face and let the warmth flow over her body. Then she looked at this man who had freed her.

“Who are you, Lord?”

“I am Jesus.”

She knelt at his feet. “My Lord and my Master. This time I know I am healed. Whoever you are, I will follow you, wherever you go, forever.”

He gently lifted her again and spoke softly, “You shall indeed follow me, Mary of Magdala, but it is not time. Return with your husband to your home, and tell what great things God has done for you.”

Tears streamed down Nathan’s face as he came and stood at her side. “How can I express my gratitude, Lord, for breaking the bondage that has held Mary for so long? We will follow you together.”

Jesus did not answer; he only smiled, but there was a touch of sadness in his smile.

“Return home, Nathan, son of Beriah, and enjoy your wife. Rejoice in the days you have together.”

Zerah had watched Mary’s deliverance with amazement and now came and fell at the feet of Jesus.

“I am a sinful man, Lord, but I believe in you. I have done a terrible thing that has caused suffering to ones I love. Forgive me, Lord.”

Jesus put a hand on his shoulder. “Your prayers have been heard by my Father. You are forgiven. Now you know what you must do.”

Zerah gathered himself and slowly turned to Mary, his face twisted with anguish. “It was I, Mary, who hired the kidnappers. I thought only of money that I needed. They were told not to hurt you. I didn’t know that they would . . . hurt your father. You have suffered because of me.” His voice broke. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

A sudden rush of emotions flooded Mary. Her uncle? Responsible for her father’s stabbing—for her ordeal with those two terrible men? Anger began to rise within her. How could she forgive such an act that had ruined years of her life? She covered her face with her hands. She could not forgive. Then, though no one actually touched her, she felt her hands gently being pulled from her face. She looked up at Jesus and suddenly realized that she herself had been set free and given new life. How could she turn away and deny forgiveness to one who had suffered as much in his own way with guilt and remorse?

One word came to her mind.
Forgive.

The anger slowly dissipated and she took a deep breath and turned to her uncle. Putting a hand on his cheek, she looked at him with new eyes of compassion. “As I have found healing today, Uncle, so may you also. I do forgive you with all my heart.”

Zerah wept in relief and embraced her.

Eliab stepped forward then and knelt before Jesus. “I have waited, Teacher, for what I knew not. Now I know why I stayed. I too believe you are from God. The one true God.”

“Well done, faithful Eliab. Return to your home and your people. You have much to share with them.”

Eliab rose. He could not speak, for his emotions overwhelmed him. He turned to Mary and Nathan.

Mary looked at the ebony face, now wrinkled with age, of the man who had watched over her family for so long. “Go in peace, dear Eliab. May the Most High, blessed be his name, watch over and protect you.”

Nathan clasped him on the shoulder, but no words came, nor were they needed. Eliab nodded his head slightly and turned. He walked through the crowd and was soon swallowed up in the masses.

Mary felt laughter bubbling up inside her. Not the raucous laughter of a deranged woman, but one very much full of life. The past years seemed but a moment, blurred and distant. She laughed, a wonderful, freeing laugh, a laugh of joy and wonderment. Then she turned to her husband. She had years to make up for.

She whispered in his ear. “I believe I would like a bath.”

F
ive days after Nathan left, Mary was awakened early by the sound of rain. Her first thought was that she was glad she’d brought her small cooking stove and kitchen items into the main room of the house the night before. Suddenly another thought pierced her consciousness. Nathan. Was he out on the sea? He would be returning home by now. She listened to the wind and knew there was a storm.

She fell to her knees and cried out to HaShem, “Oh Lord, protect him and bring him safely home to me.” She stayed on her knees for a long time, praying for her beloved husband and the men in the boat with him. Finally, peace flowed over her being, yet as her head was still bowed, she saw the face of Jesus as he spoke to the crowd of people. There was majesty in his presence. How he put the Pharisees and Sadducees in their place. They watched him with disdain and asked him questions, yet seemed astounded at his answers. He spoke as one taught by the scribes, not a simple carpenter from Nazareth. Surely he was the one her people had waited for throughout the centuries.

She reasoned to herself that there must be some way she and Nathan could send money to Jesus and his followers. Surely they needed funds for food and lodging. She would speak to Nathan when he returned. It was the least they could do to show their gratitude for what he had done for her.

There was a knock at the door. Huldah and Merab came to stay with her.

“There will be news soon, Mary.” Huldah sounded like she spoke with more confidence than she felt.

The next morning Mary stood at the window of her room upstairs and shivered as she felt the cold, moist air come through the latticework. As a child she had moved her bed as far from the window as she could and then snuggled down under a heavy lamb’s wool rug. Safe and content with her parents nearby, she’d not thought of the storms and the fishing boats that were lost. It was beyond her immediate world and meant little to her.

Now, as she’d gazed out at the dark clouds and the restless sea, and watched the wind churning the waves, she knew Nathan was out in that storm. She struggled against the fear that threatened to rise up within her.

Word spread quickly and Mary’s friends rallied around her, keeping her company while she waited. Huldah brought mending to do and Merab twirled her spindle, pulling the lamb’s wool into a fine thread. Mary worked on her loom, weaving a new tunic for Nathan. This one would be one piece and she worked steadily, sending the shuttle back and forth. Keeping her hands busy helped keep her mind from dwelling on the storm.

Samuel came at evening and ate with them. He had been checking the docks for word of any of the fishing boats, but no one had heard anything as yet.

When Mishma returned from Hebrew school, and the rain stopped for a little while, Keturah hurried over with the new baby and remained awhile. Mary held little Seth and her heart constricted as he curled his small hand around her finger. As he looked up at her, with eyes that seemed so wise in such a tiny face, he captured her heart. She was reminded of the first time she held Mishma, who was growing tall. He would soon be ready for his Bar Mitzvah, the ceremony that made him a man in the eyes of the Law.

As the evening mealtime approached, Keturah took the baby from Mary. Calling to Mishma, who had been looking at one of the scrolls, she returned home. Merab had a sick neighbor to attend to, and she and Keturah assured Mary they would return in the morning. Samuel went to feed their animals, but Huldah stayed so Mary would not be alone.

The women kept their vigil until the seventh day, when Samuel pounded on the locked gate. “Mary, open the gate. There is news.”

She threw a warm mantle over her head and pulled it around her as she hurried across the courtyard to let him in.

“A merchant ship has brought Nathan and Amos to our port.”

She searched his face and her heart beat faster as she sensed there was more to his news. “What of Nathan?”

Samuel shook his head. “They are bringing him home. He is alive, but seriously wounded.”

Mary gasped as four men came to the gate, carrying someone on a litter. It was Nathan. His face was pale and his eyes closed. The side of his head was matted with blood and a large lump had formed at his temple.

She had the men gently lift Nathan and place him upon his bed. He let out a small groan, but his eyes remained closed.

Someone had already sent for Merab and she came quickly with her goatskin bag of herbs and powders. She looked down at the unconscious man and shook her head. When Mary finished cleaning the dried blood from the wound, Merab made a poultice and applied it to the side of Nathan’s head to stop the bleeding. Mary helped her wind a clean cloth around his head to hold the poultice in place.

One of the men went to bring Nathan’s father from the boatyard.

Merab watched Nathan carefully, and as he began to stir, he suddenly rolled to one side. Anticipating his next act, she grabbed the basin of water Mary had used to clean his wound with. She held it for Nathan, who vomited into the basin and then lay back, his breathing heavy and labored.

“Will he be all right?” Mary searched Merab’s face for any sign of hope.

“Only time will tell. We do not know if there is damage we cannot see. If he lives through the night, we may hope, but his breathing is not good, nor is the sickness.”

Her heart was like a lump of lead in her chest. Mary found herself reliving the moments at the bedsides of her father and then her mother as they died. She must not lose Nathan.

“What more can I do?” she cried.

Merab touched her shoulder. “Pray. Pray that HaShem will spare him.”

Mary turned to Amos. Though weary from his ordeal, he had come with the men who carried Nathan, and stood watching, his face the picture of anguish.

“Amos, what happened?”

“The sea was calm when we bartered for the fishing boat to take us back to Magdala. Nathan thought we could take a chance and make it home. We had only been at sea for a short time when the storm clouds rolled out over the water and the waves began to whip up from the wind. I wanted to turn back, but Nathan felt we were only going a short distance and he was anxious to get home.”

Mary’s eyes filled with tears as he paused. She knew Nathan was trying to get back to her as he promised.

Amos went on. “The boat was not as sturdy as the one we delivered to the merchant, but we worked hard to take the sail down in the wind and bailed with a clay pot the fisherman had on board. It wasn’t enough. One large wave, almost the height of the top of the mast, slammed into the boat. The mast snapped like a mere twig. Nathan tried to get out of the way, but there was nowhere to go. In an instant it struck him and he fell overboard into the sea. I dove in after him, knowing he was wounded, and just then another wave broke the boat up completely and swept the fisherman and Levi into the sea. I never saw them again. Nathan had somehow grasped a plank from the boat and we both clung to it, I kept hold of him as best I could. As suddenly as the storm came up, it passed on and the sea calmed. A merchant ship had made it through the storm. They spotted us and somehow managed to pluck us from the sea.” He paused, shaking his head. “The rest you know.”

She listened to his words, picturing the storm in her mind and the men’s struggle to save the boat. She nodded slowly. “Thank you, Amos.”

Just then Beriah came, his face a picture of silent agony as he saw his son. He put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder and spoke quietly to him, but Nathan remained silent and unmoving.

The hours dragged by, and the family kept watch. Beriah’s wife, Beulah, brought food, as did other women in the neighborhood. The women stayed with Mary and Beriah. Her uncle Zerah stood with the other men in the courtyard, talking quietly among themselves.

About the ninth hour, Nathan suddenly opened his eyes. His voice was hesitant. “Am I dreaming—is it you, Mary?”

Wild with joy, she put his hand to her cheek. “I am here, beloved. You are home.”

He gave her a weak smile and hope made her heart flutter.

“Rest, my husband, you will be well soon.”

He began to mutter, his words coming in short spurts. “The storm . . . so strong . . . knew I should have waited . . . wanted to return to you. Boat too small . . . something fell . . .”

Beriah’s eyes were moist as he smiled down at his son. “Don’t try to talk, my son, you must rest so your head can heal.”

Nathan blinked his eyes several times as if trying to clear his vision and peered up at their anxious faces. “I feel strange.” His voice was hoarse.

He grimaced and she knew he was in pain. “Head hurts . . .” His breathing became more ragged.

Suddenly his eyes widened. “Do you see them?”

Those in the room followed his gaze toward the ceiling. Mary shook her head. “I don’t see anything, Nathan.”

“They are there . . .”

She frowned. Was he having delusions? “Who?”

His voice was almost a whisper. “The angels.”

“No!” A cry of agony left her as she clung to his hand.

“They—are—beckoning—to me.”

“No!” She cried again.

“My son, save your strength. You are dreaming.”

Nathan reached out with his free hand and clasped his father’s.

“Watch over Mary for me, Father. Promise me.”

“I promise, my son. I will look after her.” Beriah promised, his voice cracking as tears slipped down his wrinkled cheeks.

Nathan looked up at her. “I love you, Mary. Have—always—loved you.” His arm went limp, pulling the hand she held downward. Slowly she put his arm by his side, the shock keeping her immobile for a moment. Then a heart-wrenching cry of pain and loss rose up and spilled out of her, and the other women took up the lamentation as Beriah tore his clothes and stumbled out into the courtyard.

Mary could not just sit and weep. The Law required that a body be laid to rest the same day, a commandment from the Lord. In a daze of shock and grief, she helped the women bathe his body and prepare him for his burial.

The procession wound its way through the streets, gathering mourners who wept and cried out, flinging dust into the air as they commiserated with the family in their time of mourning.

Mary wanted to die and be buried with him. How could she go on now? They had weathered so many years of struggle and heartache, only to have just this one year to enjoy one another again. She cried out to HaShem, asking “Why” over and over, but the heavens were silent. She stumbled on, bewildered.

When the family returned to the house, they sat in mourning for the seven days of shivah. Beriah was inconsolable. Beulah sat with him, giving him strength by her quiet presence. Huldah, Merab, and Keturah sat with Mary, lending their comfort as only women can do for one another.

Near the end of the first month of mourning, Mary sat in the courtyard, letting the warm sunshine pour over her. Huldah and Merab came when they could and Keturah brought little Seth. Caring for the baby seemed to help Mary in her grief and from time to time even brought a smile to her face.

The courtyard was quiet. Even the bird that sang in the sycamore tree had stilled his voice. She had slept little for days, unable to speak for the well of grief that settled over her heart. How could God take Nathan away from her so soon? She could not understand.

Little by little, thoughts of Jesus began to infiltrate her mind. She recalled the day she had found him on the hillside, in the middle of her headlong, terrified flight. She once again saw his face with his eyes of compassion and felt again the sense of love that he had poured into her. Was he not the Messiah? She believed that with all her heart, as did many of her neighbors. No one could do the things he did and be a mere prophet. She relived the moment when he had lifted her from the ground. She told him she would follow him anywhere, but he had gently refused.

It seemed so long ago, that day that had brought her back from the living dead. Such joy she felt. Now, the weight of her widowhood pressed upon her. What was she to do now? Her parents were gone, Eliab had returned to his own country, Keturah was married and busy with her own family. She was alone. She had no children to tend. What could she do now? Samuel suggested a kinsman redeemer, a relative of Nathan’s who would be willing to marry her. Yet remembering Nathan and the love they had shared, she could not think of another man taking his place.