Poisoned Honey Read online

  “That’s the exorcist?” exclaimed my brother. “Thank the Lord!”

  Then Alexandros asked the man who’d spoken to him a question. But I couldn’t make it out because the demons all began to scream. “There’s the exorcist! Flee! Flee for your lives! If he gets hold of us, we’re doomed!”

  The fiends twisted my limbs this way and that, and I fell to the ground, hitting the back of my head. I must have been knocked senseless. The next thing I knew, I was rolled up in a fishing net and swinging from a long pole. Alexandros carried the front end. Pain pounded through my head, and spittle ran out of my mouth as the unclean spirits shrieked and howled.

  The crowd on the shore parted to let us through. Between the cords pressed against my face, I caught their stares of horror and their hands making the sign against the evil eye. At the end of the corridor of people was the lake, with the boat a few lengths from shore. The sun, hanging low over Mount Arbel, shone on the man in the boat.

  “Rabbi, my sister Mariamne is possessed,” called Alexandros. Turning to a bystander, he asked doubtfully, “Is he truly an exorcist? He’s dressed like an ordinary workman.”

  “Miryam,” said the man in the boat. It was a voice that spoke to the ears of my soul, ears that could still hear after all. I was struck breathless by the tenderness in his voice. And the eyes of my soul were not quite blind, either. This plainly dressed man with a thin face was looking at me as if he saw his own dear sister in the net.

  The demons seemed stunned for a moment, and I seized my chance. “Help me,” I said.

  The rabbi spoke to Alexandros. “Let her out.”

  My brother launched into an explanation of why that was impossible, and how much he was willing to pay for an exorcism but no more, and how he’d done even more than a brother could be expected to—

  The rabbi interrupted, “Let her out.” He didn’t raise his voice, but there was authority in it like a king’s. Alexandros and the other man hurried to obey. While they lowered me to the pebbly shore and untied the net, the rabbi stepped over the side of the boat and waded out of the water.

  The demons made me fling myself back and forth and call on them by name. They snarled through my mouth, “We know you, Yeshua of Nazareth! Leave us alone—this woman is ours!” All the nastiness and ugliness in my spirit spewed out for this holy man to see, as disgusting as if I were relieving my bowels in front of him. I thought I would die of shame. At the same time, I was terrified that he might change his mind about helping me.

  Rabbi Yeshua’s dark eyes flashed with anger, but his voice was calm and sure. “I know you, Phomelei, Aiandictor, Dionesiona, Odjit, Zaphaunt, Panhasaziel. I command you, leave this woman.”

  They streamed out through my mouth, like a rush of foul air. And then the whole tribe of unclean spirits was gone—simply gone. Was it possible that they were gone? I lay on my back, gazing up at Rabbi Yeshua.

  He gazed back at me, and his face broke into a grin of pure delight. He reached down and pulled me to my feet. “Shalom, peace, Miryam.”

  “Shalom, Rabbi,” I said, brushing the tangled hair from my eyes. I smiled back at him although it hurt a cut on my lip. I held out my bound hands, and he untied them.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  Then the crowd closed around Rabbi Yeshua, and Alexandros and I were squeezed off to the side. My knees wobbled; my mind was still. I sank down on a rock. I was clean; I was pure; I was at peace.

  Peace. How many hundreds and hundreds of times had I heard the greeting “Peace” but never thought about what it meant? Now I felt what it meant: being still inside, so that I could see how precious the most ordinary things around me were. I ran my hand over the rock, marveling at how black and solid it was. I lifted my face to the sky, blue overhead but shading toward yellow above the hills.

  I pondered what the rabbi had said: “Come with me.” I couldn’t imagine that he actually wanted me to follow him. Still, he had invited me, and that warmed my heart.

  “Miryam, you must be thirsty.” A well-dressed woman stooped beside me with a gourd of water.

  I hadn’t realized it before, but indeed I was parched. I drank, feeling the water soothe my hoarse throat. Tears of gratitude filled my eyes, and it occurred to me to wonder why this woman dressed in a noblewoman’s robe was waiting on me. “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I am Joanna of Tiberias,” she said. “My husband is Herod Antipas’s steward. I had a wasting illness, and Rabbi Yeshua healed me. And then I saw how I could help the rabbi’s mission—with my money, for one thing. So I left Tiberias last year, and I’ve followed Yeshua ever since.”

  Joanna said this in a matter-of-fact way as she offered the gourd to Alexandros, sitting nearby. My brother drank deeply, too, and thanked her, but all the while he kept his eyes on me. “You’ve come to your senses?” he asked.

  I was so intrigued by Joanna’s story that it took me a moment to focus on my brother. Poor Alexandros! He looked as if he’d been attacked by bandits. “Brother, are you all right?” I dipped a somewhat clean corner of my robe in the water and dabbed at a scratch over his eye. “I’m sorry I hurt you! I’m truly sorry.”

  “You speak in your own voice,” said Alexandros. Closing his eyes, he let out a ragged sigh of relief. “Thank the Lord!”

  “Thank the Lord!” I echoed, as did Joanna.

  “I had my doubts about this healer,” Alexandros went on, opening his eyes. “I’d expected him to pronounce incantations and wave his arms, that kind of thing. And to be frank, I wasn’t sure anyone could help you.” Then he added, “Well. The holy man did drive out your demons, so I must pay what I offered.” He stood up, pulled his loose robes together, and began to work his way into the crowd again.

  Joanna sat down beside me. I said wonderingly, “It must be a great change for you, following the rabbi, after living in the palace.”

  She smiled. “Yes, we live very simply with the rabbi. Our home is wherever Yeshua is. Our family is his band of followers. Tonight we’ll sleep at Simon’s house in Capernaum. Tomorrow, who knows? The rabbi has to keep traveling, to spread his message.”

  While Joanna was explaining how she’d arranged to receive the income from her inheritance, Alexandros returned. “Come, I’ve paid the healer, and I’ve found a boat to take us back to Magdala,” he said to me. “We must be home by dark.”

  Joanna looked at me with a question in her eyes. “So you return to your family.”

  “Yes,” I answered, puzzled.

  Joanna pressed my hand in both of hers. “Perhaps we’ll meet again,” she said. “I hope so. There aren’t many women among the disciples.”

  I was sorry to leave her, but I followed my brother to the boat.

  TWENTY-THREE

  COME WITH ME

  The way back to Magdala was as easy as the journey to Capernaum had been toilsome. Our boat slid through pink light shed on the lake by swirls of glowing sunset clouds above Mount Arbel. I, too, was glowing, glowing with good will. Making amends with my family would be a pleasure, starting with my brother. “Alexandros,” I told him as the boatman worked the sail, “you were a faithful brother to bring me to the rabbi for healing, even though I caused you so much grief. I’m more grateful than I can say.”

  Alexandros looked mildly pleased. “It was the right thing to do. I was bound to follow Elder Thomas’s judgment.” He yawned hugely.

  It struck me that my brother was not glowing. “Brother, when we met Rabbi Yeshua … did you feel true peace, as if for the first time?” As he regarded me with a baffled frown, I went on, “What did you feel?”

  Alexandros shrugged. “Well, naturally, I was relieved that he was able to exorcise the evil spirits. And I was satisfied that I’d done my duty—more than my duty, many would say.” He yawned again. “I need to rest.”

  I was disappointed, but I reminded myself what an ordeal I’d put him through that day. He did look weary. “You must be exhausted,” I said.

  My brother nodded, slu
mping onto a pile of nets. By the time the boat had rocked once or twice, he was asleep.

  Strangely, I wasn’t tired at all. As I watched the shore glide past, my thoughts turned back to Rabbi Yeshua. Who had ever looked at me so lovingly? Only my father, my grandmother, and (in a rare moment or two) my mother. The rabbi had seen me at my worst, and yet he’d regarded me with such compassion. I felt that my life would never be the same again.

  Why, I wondered, hadn’t Alexandros been affected the way I was by meeting Rabbi Yeshua? My brother was “relieved,” he said; “satisfied.” He’d spoken as if the rabbi were a carpenter who’d built an extra storeroom on his warehouse. The exorcist did his job; Alexandros paid him for his work. No reason to make a fuss about it.

  This was so absurd that it made me smile. I looked over at Alexandros as he slept. His mouth was open, and the lines of strain in his face had relaxed; he seemed much younger.

  Later I’d share my sense of blessing with Alexandros. I’d tell my whole family! Everyone should feel the way I did, clean and free.

  But it was not the way I’d imagined, walking into the house where I had grown up. Of course, my grandmother was no longer there, and although I’d expected that, it made me sad. But I’d forgotten that Chloe would also be gone—she was living with her betrothed’s family now.

  Uncle Reuben was there, and I thought he looked disappointed to see me again. The rest of them embraced me, as well as Alexandros, and they seemed relieved that we’d returned safely. But no one wanted to hear how Rabbi Yeshua had healed me.

  Imma gave me fresh clothes to put on and helped me wash my scrapes. “I’m glad you’re cleansed, Mariamne,” she said. “But it’s not something we should dwell on. Let’s see, where will you sleep? I’ll have Yael put a cot next to mine.”

  Many things had changed, I realized, since the last time I’d lived at home. Some were big changes, such as Chloe’s absence. Some were smaller but still made a difference— Alexandros and his wife had the bedchamber now, and my mother slept in the common room.

  At supper, my uncle said, “Thank the Lord that the exorcist didn’t expect more money. There’s an exorcist at Herod Antipas’s court in Tiberias who charges several silver denarii, they say, to drive out demons. We couldn’t have afforded that.” At first, I was hurt, but then I felt sad for Uncle Reuben. My grandmother had been stingy with her love for him, giving it all to my father, and now my uncle was stingy with me.

  Alexandros’s wife, Sarah, smiled uneasily when she caught me looking at her. She kept well away from me with her baby. It struck me that she must have heard the dreadful story of how I let Kanarit fall off the roof. Oh, that made me flinch! I was healed, but the harm I’d done while I was possessed was not healed. I would go to Susannah first thing the following day.

  The next morning, I noticed that the manservant, rather than Yael, carried the water jars from the well. I supposed Yael wasn’t strong enough to heft the heavy jars anymore. I saw that her shoulders had become hunched, and the lines in her face dragged her mouth down at the corners.

  I also heard Yael talking to herself—and to anyone within earshot—as she swept the courtyard: “Woe! Oh, I see it coming. I see how they look at me, as if to say, ‘The old donkey’s wearing out. Better sell her for hide and tallow while we can.’”

  I assumed this was just Yael’s usual self-pity. Surely, my family wouldn’t turn her out to join the crowd of beggars at the market.

  When I told my mother I was going to see Susannah, she tried to discourage me. “I wouldn’t bother your cousin just now if I were you,” said Imma. “‘Once bitten, twice shy,’ as the proverb goes. Besides, Sarah and I could use some help with combing the flax.”

  My mother and her never-ending proverbs! “I must ask Susannah’s forgiveness—I can’t put it off,” I said. “I won’t be long.”

  Silas and Susannah’s house in the cloth-dyers’ quarter was on the other side of town. At first, I walked quickly, but as I came closer, I began to wish it were farther away. I told myself that surely Susannah would be able to see that I was myself again—better, in fact, than my old self?

  But Susannah would not let me in the courtyard. She wouldn’t even open the gate. “I don’t know you,” she said in a grim voice. “I had a cousin once, but she is dead to me.”

  “Please listen to what I have to say,” I pleaded through a crack in the wood, “if only for the sake of our grandmother”—tears stung my eyes—“who loved both of us.”

  Desperate, I dropped down on the dirt lane in a beggar’s crouch, with my forehead on the ground and my open hands outstretched. “Forgive me, forgive me,” I asked over and over.

  After a time, I heard the bar of the gate being lifted, and I jumped up. But it was only Susannah’s serving woman, and she opened the gate just wide enough to push a bundle through. “Mistress says take your things and go.” I recognized a rug I’d brought from home when I married.

  As I leaned against the gate, forlornly clutching my bundle, I heard faint footsteps approaching. “Cousin Mari?” piped a voice very quietly. “Are you still there?”

  “Kanarit?” I seized the small hand reaching through a crack in the gate. “My dear!”

  “Imma said you were dead,” Kanarit went on.

  “No, I’m alive,” I said. How lucky I am, I thought, to be alive and holding my little cousin’s hand! “I’m sorry I let you fall off the roof. I’m sorry you were hurt. I wish I’d fallen instead. I hope …” I hesitated, because it seemed like too much to ask. “I hope you can forgive me.”

  “I forgive you,” she said seriously. “Cousin Mari?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Why did you try to make me fly?” She added quickly, “I asked Imma, but she hushed me up. Why did you?”

  When Kanarit asked that way, it was easy to give her a straightforward answer. “I did it because I wasn’t in my right mind. I was possessed by demons. They tricked me into thinking it was a good idea.”

  “Oh,” Kanarit said. “Are the demons gone now?”

  Before I could answer, Susannah called from the house. Kanarit pulled her hand back. “Imma wants me. I have to go. Good-bye, cousin Mari!”

  “Good-bye, dear!” Under my breath, I murmured, “Thanks be to the Lord.”

  As I made my way back through the tangle of lanes and alleys, I had a good idea. Maybe I’d never be allowed to see Susannah’s daughter again, but I could still do something for her. I could ask Alexandros to manage a portion of my property for me. He could set aside a certain amount every year for Kanarit. Then when she was grown, she wouldn’t have to marry for money.

  At home, I found my mother on the roof under the awning, combing flax. Sarah had taken the baby downstairs for a nap. Sitting beside Imma, I picked up combs and a bunch of flax.

  After we’d been working a little while, Imma remarked, “Sarah’s a good girl, but still young and impressionable. It would be best if you didn’t talk to her.” She added, “I don’t think you realize how hard your … er … condition was on Alexandros. He felt responsible, you know, that he didn’t bring you home after Eleazar died. He wondered if he could have saved you.”

  I doubted this, but I swallowed the angry answer that came to my lips. Instead, I said, “If Alexandros did feel guilty, he doesn’t need to anymore. In the end, he brought me to Rabbi Yeshua, and the rabbi saved me.” As I spoke, that moment came back to me. The rabbi saw me, just as I was, with such loving eyes, and I was healed! “Imma …” I turned eagerly to my mother, to share the moment with her.

  Before I could put what I felt into words, my mother said, “Yes, saved—that’s well and good, but now what’s to be done with you?” She talked on, more to herself than to me. “I’m not sure Alexandros has thought this through. As the first step, Elder Thomas should interview her and certify that she’s free of … mm, er … now.”

  “The first step?” I wondered what she was talking about.

  “Of course,” Imma continued, “some m
ight say that he was only doing so to help his son-in-law. But no—the elder is known as a just man. His opinion would carry a great deal of weight.” She nodded several times.

  I felt my glow fade as I realized what she was getting at. The day before, I’d been full of new, clean life, and my spirit was free. Now it seemed that we were all back where we’d started: I was in my family’s house, and Alexandros and my uncle and Imma were searching for a husband for me. It felt like trying to cram my foot into Kanarit’s sandal.

  Still, I thought soberly, I owed my family a great debt, for the shame I’d brought on them. The next day, when Alexandros spoke to me in private, I made an effort to listen respectfully.

  He’d found a possible husband for me already, he said. The new marriage prospect was actually the same as the last one: Matthew bar Alphaeus.

  “I know he rejected you before, when Silas … when you were … er, mm … But we have reason to think he’d reconsider now,” Alexandros went on hastily. “It seems he failed at toll collecting, and the Romans sent him away. Now he’s making only a small living as an accountant for Tabbai, the Syrian wool merchant. So your income would naturally look more attractive to him, and if he can believe that you’re truly healed …”

  “You’re willing to marry me off to the tax collector’s son, who isn’t even rich anymore?” I protested. Then I fell silent. After all, why did I think I deserved better? Perhaps this was what I was supposed to do.

  That evening, Alexandros had further news about Matthew bar Alphaeus. “I’d gotten the impression from Alphaeus that they’d reconsider the match, but today I talked to Matthew.” My brother blew out his breath in exasperation. “I couldn’t make sense of what he was telling me, and I’m not sure he could, either. He told me he didn’t plan to marry. He said he was ‘waiting for a sign.’ It had something to do with a wandering preacher, the same Rabbi Yeshua who drove away your … you know.”

  My brother talked on, but I hardly heard him. Matthew the toll collector was connected with Rabbi Yeshua, the holy man? That seemed impossible.