Poisoned Honey Page 9

  There were also rebel bands hiding in caves in the cliffs, people said. Herod Antipas sent a troop of soldiers up the mountain every once in a while to root them out, but the rebels always returned. I wouldn’t want to meet any of those desperate men—or Antipas’s soldiers, either, for that matter. With a shudder, I turned down the avenue and hurried to catch up with Chava.

  Outside the market, Chava met an acquaintance and stopped to chat. She kept her back turned to me, and the neighbor glanced at me curiously but didn’t greet me. I stood there behind Chava like a servant.

  Nearby, a woman squatted on a tattered cloth. She must not have been able to afford even the small fee for a vendor’s space in the market. She had a wicker cage of sparrows for sale. Only poor people who couldn’t afford a chicken or even a dove would buy such a pathetic little mouthful, hardly worth plucking and roasting. “Sparrows, plump and tasty, only a sestertius,” she called.

  The birds were strangely still, with only their heads turning this way and that. Then one sparrow, as if realizing where it was, fluttered up from the floor of the cage. In an instant, every bird in the cage was frantic, beating its wings against its fellow prisoners and the wicker bars. And then, just as suddenly, they all gave up at once and huddled on the bottom of the cage.

  I couldn’t bear to look any longer. “I’m going into the market,” I muttered to Chava, and I hurried into the maze of booths. But the sight of the cage seemed to follow me. I walked faster and faster.

  Rushing past a glassblower’s booth, I became aware that someone was calling my name. “Mari. Mari!” It was a young woman with a round, shiny face and merry dark eyes. I’d walked right by my cousin Susannah.

  As we hugged, Susannah mock-scolded, “Why haven’t you visited me? Doesn’t your husband let you see your kin-folk?” She pulled back and looked at me more closely. “What’s the matter, Mari? You look upset.”

  I cast around for some more or less believable answer, but instead the truth came tumbling out. “Susannah … the sparrows for sale outside the market … it broke my heart to see them trying to escape….” I was horrified at myself, but it was too late.

  Susannah didn’t look shocked, as I feared; she squeezed my hand. Taking my arm, she spoke quietly in my ear. “I was going to send my servant to your house and tell you to come to me this afternoon. You know the wise woman from Alexandria? She’s our guest now.”

  With an effort, I calmed myself enough to pay attention to her words. “Oh yes—the Egyptian.” I dug into my memory for more. “You invited us to meet her before, but Imma wouldn’t let us go. I thought she’d left for Tiberias.”

  “She did,” said Susannah, “but she came back. And Silas said I could invite Ramla—that’s the wise woman’s name—to stay with us.” Her eyes sparkled as she put a hand on her belly. “Have you heard that I’m with child again? We’re hoping for a son.”

  “I’m so happy for you! May the Lord grant you and the child the best of health.” I spoke the expected words and hugged my cousin again, although in my misery I felt she ought to be satisfied with the good fortune she already had. But, of course, Susannah and her husband, after having a daughter, wanted the next baby to be a son. Wise women were said to be especially helpful with such matters.

  “Come to see Ramla, Mari,” said Susannah. “She truly is wise. She foretells the future, and she counsels people in … in difficulties. She said it would be no extra trouble to advise my friends.”

  I felt my face grow hot. So Susannah had already known that I was unhappy. Maybe everyone in our congregation was watching Eleazar and me, talking about how miserable I was. Pitying me.

  Chava appeared beside me, and she and Susannah exchanged cool greetings. Susannah hesitated, and then I suppose she thought Chava might make trouble for me if she wasn’t invited to Susannah’s gathering. “If you, too, wish to see Ramla of Alexandria this afternoon,” she said, “you would be welcome a thousand times.”

  Chava thanked Susannah with barely concealed distaste. “That Egyptian woman, back again?” She clucked her tongue. “Did she ever receive permission from the council of elders to practice in Magdala? I’m not sure Father-in-law would approve of us consulting her.”

  “I’m sure he would,” I snapped, with something like my old spark. Of course, I wasn’t sure at all, but Susannah’s presence gave me a little courage. I straightened my back and forced a smile. “I don’t know that I need advice,” I told Susannah, “but I am curious to see the Egyptian. I’ll come this afternoon.”

  ELEVEN

  THE WAY OUT

  Chava didn’t try to stop me from going to Susannah’s, but she did almost spoil my afternoon. As Chava watched me cover my hair with a scarf, she remarked to her niece, “See, Daphne, she’s going out again. Most young wives would be eager to prove their worth at home. But she’s used to idle entertainments, I suppose.”

  I left without answering, trembling with anger. I no longer wondered why Chava hated me, because I hated her. I wished the earth would split open under her feet, then close up again with a clap, squeezing the bile out of her. The evil wish satisfied me for a moment, but then it made me feel disgusted with myself.

  After I sat down on a cushion in the upper room of Susannah’s house, it was several minutes before I began to enjoy myself. It helped to be in a room full of friendly women; it helped to sip my cup of cool pomegranate juice. It helped most of all when little Kanarit ran over to me, lisping, “Cousin Mari!” and snuggled down beside me.

  Wistfully I thought it must be sweet to have a baby, and I wondered if Eleazar had lost his power to beget children. Then immediately I recoiled from the thought of bringing a helpless child into that household. Heaven forbid!

  I hoped that Ramla’s performance would take my mind off my troubles, and I was glad when the Egyptian wise woman appeared at the sound of a gong. She made an exciting entrance, standing in the doorway with the light silhouetting the crescent on her headdress and the large bird on her shoulder. Yes, she had a talking bird, just as Susannah had promised. “Greetings, ladies,” it said in a cracked but distinct voice.

  Ramla took a step into the room, and now I saw that her parrot was gray with a scarlet tail. The young woman next to me whispered nervously, “What if … what if it’s a demon speaking through the bird?” I thought that was a silly idea, but I patted her arm.

  “Honored ladies,” Ramla intoned, “last night I kept a vigil to watch the stars. Know that we are in a time of new beginnings.”

  New beginnings. The words called up a reading from the prophets at last Sabbath’s synagogue meeting. I’d hardly listened to the reading at the time, but now the Scripture came back to me: “New things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them.”

  The wise woman went on, “As the great lighthouse at Alexandria guides ships on their voyages, the light of hidden wisdom can direct your journey.” She gestured with a scroll. “The Scroll of Wisdom holds a message for each one in this room.”

  My journey? A new beginning for me? What a mockery! My journey through life had ended in a cage.

  With an effort, I turned my attention back to Ramla as she proceeded to impart special advice from the spirit world to each of us. Staring upward as if the ceiling would dissolve before her gaze, she pronounced the name of one of the women in the room. Next, she raised her scroll in the direction of her gaze, as if to receive some kind of power. Then she opened the scroll and read from it. When she was finished, the parrot squawked, “Ramla has spoken.”

  The talking bird reminded me of the sparrow I’d named Tsippor. I thought my sparrow had more intelligent things to say than the Egyptian’s bird, though. I’d had long conversations with that sparrow.

  I was intrigued by Ramla’s scroll. I’d never seen such a fine scroll, with carved and polished handles, except in the synagogue. Furthermore, I’d never seen a woman hold one. In fact, I didn’t know any women who could read more than a few words.

  As Ramla read ou
t a passage for each of us, I tried to guess whether the advice really fit the person. I didn’t know most of the guests well, but I knew that Susannah’s husband’s aunt was concerned about her share in a caravan from Damascus. Ramla’s reading assured her: “A venture is bound to be successful.” Susannah’s reading hinted at a baby boy to come, which, of course, was what Susannah and Silas hoped for.

  Then Ramla spoke my name. Immediately I wished I’d asked her not to read for me. Nothing could help me. Besides, I didn’t want the other women thinking and speculating about me as I had about them.

  The Egyptian went through her motions of gazing upward, raising the scroll, and unrolling the parchment. “It is written: ‘Lo, the iron bars will melt away, and the prison door will gape open. Trust, and the way out will be revealed to you.’”

  Ramla’s bird companion cocked its head to look at us with one pale eye and then the other. “Ramla has spoken,” it said.

  The way out? A way out for me? I didn’t really believe it, but I felt a painful surge of hope. To hide my feelings, I bowed my face over my cup.

  After giving each guest a reading, Ramla offered amulets for sale, and some of the women bought them. They were small pouches of colored linen, strung on cords and smelling of herbs. “Nothing the Jewish elders could disapprove of,” Ramla assured us. “No graven images or unclean ingredients. This one protects against fevers. This one ties an unfriendly tongue. This one prevents accidents by fire.” I thought the one to tie an unfriendly tongue would be useful against Chava, but I had no money.

  Then it was time to leave, and each woman presented Ramla with a gift: a dish of stuffed dates, a carved and painted comb, a little jar of scented oil. I waited until the others were gone to give her my gift, a string of crocheted flowers. “Thank you,” croaked the bird, and leaned from her shoulder to accept my flowers with its beak.

  The Egyptian woman nodded a gracious dismissal to me, but I didn’t go. No one could hear us, since Susannah and her departing guests were down in the courtyard. I blurted out my question: “Is there truly a way out for me? How long do I have to wait?”

  Ramla gazed at me with a puzzled frown. “Ah yes. You’re … Mariamne?” She smoothed back a lock of hair that had escaped from her headdress. Her expression, too, smoothed into one of dignity. “I cannot answer your question, how long,” she intoned, “but I can help you bear the time of waiting.” As she spoke, her Egyptian accent thickened. “I will teach you a charm so that you can slip into the spirit world now and then, and come back refreshed and rested.”

  I felt a chill. “Into the … spirit world?” It was one thing to listen to a wise woman but quite another to cast a charm myself.

  “It’s nothing to worry about,” Ramla answered. “It’s only as if you discovered a private garden, a place you can steal off to from time to time. No one else can see it, no one else can know about it.”

  This wasn’t what I wanted, but at least it was something. I nodded. “What is the charm?”

  First, Ramla instructed, I must close my eyes and breathe slowly until I feel calm. If troubling thoughts come to me, brush them away. “Then, to get into the spirit world, say ‘Abrasax, I enter.’ You will step through a doorway into a garden, the loveliest garden you can imagine.”

  “Abrasax,” I repeated.

  “And when you wish to leave the garden,” Ramla went on, “you will say ‘Abrasax, I leave.’ You will open your eyes, and you will find yourself back in this world.”

  “That’s all there is to it?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Ramla. She yawned as she spoke, and I saw that two of her teeth were missing. I hadn’t thought of Ramla as being any particular age, but she must have been as old as my mother. “Now I go to rest and restore my powers.”

  On my way home, I thought over the words from the scroll. What way out of my cage could there be, other than Eleazar’s death? But that solution couldn’t be “revealed” to me, because I’d already thought of it. I supposed it would make my plight less miserable if Chava died, but that wasn’t the same as escape.

  A grim thought struck me: I might die myself. That would be a way out, all right, a nasty fulfillment of Ramla’s prophecy.

  By the time I walked back into Eleazar’s courtyard, my pleasure in the afternoon had dissolved like morning mist from the lake. Chava and the other women were there, watching and criticizing everything I did. That night, although I had the bed to myself, I was tempted by Ramla’s idea of a hidden garden.

  As Ramla had told me, I closed my eyes. I let my breath slowly in … slowly out. Slowly in … slowly out. Thoughts swam through my mind like fish, nibbling at me: Had Susannah told her other guests how unhappy I was? Would the elders of Magdala disapprove of what I was doing? Pronouncing magical words by myself seemed like crossing a line, a line maybe as important as the one between a maiden and a married woman.

  I brushed the thoughts away. Slowly breathe in … slowly breathe out. Gradually I felt that I was floating free. I whispered, “Abrasax, I enter.”

  Immediately an archway appeared in my mind’s eye. It was like the entrance to the mikvah, only the steps leading down were white marble. And the space I glimpsed beyond was not dark but sunny. It was frighteningly real.

  “Abrasax, I leave!” I gabbled, and my eyes flew open in the dark. My heart tripped. There was a private garden, and who knew what else, in the spirit world. I felt that I’d made a narrow escape.

  The next day, Eleazar returned, and that night it was bitter medicine as usual. I was tempted to say the charm again, but I had promised myself that I would not. I sensed danger. Was it the danger of being discovered practicing magic, or of the hidden garden itself? I wasn’t sure, but I was afraid.

  I thought I would only do the slow breathing, clearing my mind and letting myself float. Surely there was no harm in that much. Breathe slowly in … slowly out. By the time I was calmed and drifting, the magical words didn’t seem so dangerous. “Abrasax, I enter.”

  My foot seemed to meet the cool marble step, and I felt a jasmine-scented breeze on my face.

  No, I must not go there! Again I was frightened, as if I’d walked right to the edge of a cliff. “Abrasax, I leave.”

  By the time three days had passed, I felt myself back in the cage. I longed desperately to be with my grandmother, who would simply give me loving looks and speak kind words. Putting on my head scarf, I picked up a basket and told Chava, “We need fresh herbs. I’m going out the west gate to gather them.”

  Chava looked sincerely shocked. “Outside the town by yourself? Unheard of!” She added grudgingly, “If we really need herbs, we’ll all go together when Daphne arrives this afternoon.”

  “No. I’m going now.” I paused just long enough to make up a plausible lie. “I’m not going alone. Susannah is going, too.”

  On my way through the alley to the avenue, I wondered if I should change my mind—if I should actually go to Susannah’s house. I knew I was risking trouble, deliberately disobeying my husband. But I was ashamed to have Susannah see me in such a pitiable state.

  When I stepped into the familiar courtyard a short while later, the first thing I saw was Chloe sitting with another girl. Their heads were together, and they were laughing about something.

  “Shalom, Mari!” exclaimed Chloe. She jumped up and kissed me. “Look, this is Sarah, Alexandros’s betrothed. She’s come to live with us.” The other girl smiled shyly at me.

  So this was my brother’s bride-to-be, paid for with my marriage to Eleazar. I managed to say, “Shalom, Sarah.”

  “Who’s there, Chloe?” called my mother from the rooftop. She started down the stairs, with Safta following more slowly. Halfway down, my mother caught sight of me and halted. “Mariamne. What are you doing here?”

  That was not a welcoming question, and I couldn’t answer. Imma hurried down to the courtyard, took my arm, and pulled me aside. “You mustn’t come here again,” she whispered.

  “What do you mean—I�
�m not welcome in my own home?” I tried to speak calmly, but my voice came out in a wail.

  “Not for now, at least.” She sighed heavily. “Mariamne, get it through your head that your home is your husband’s home. Eleazar has spoken to your uncle Reuben, and Reuben has spoken to Alexandros, and Alexandros told me: Your husband does not wish you to keep coming back here. He says you’re neglecting your duties. He says you quarrel with the other women in his household.”

  “That’s not true!” I exclaimed. “They’re unfriendly to me. Eleazar must have heard those lies from Chava, and that woman hates me! She—”

  “Go … now!” My mother spoke sharply and gave me a little push toward the gate.

  But I turned aside instead, falling into my grandmother’s arms. “Safta, Safta!”

  My grandmother felt scrawnier than I remembered, but she patted my back and murmured, “There, there, little bird.” Ah, her sweet voice! This was what I had come for.

  Closing my eyes, I felt for a moment like a much younger girl. Plaintive words came out of my mouth, as if I really were a forlorn child: “Safta, do you like Sarah better than you like me?”

  My grandmother pulled back, looking bewildered, and she had me repeat my question. Then she said, “You mean my aunt Sarah? No, I can’t say I liked her very well, may her soul rest in peace.”

  I smiled meanly to myself, pleased that my grandmother didn’t even know who the new Sarah was. But then Safta went on, “I’ll tell you who I do like—that nice girl Mari.” She nodded toward the bench where Sarah sat with Chloe. “She came to live with us. They say she’s betrothed to Alexandros.”

  TWELVE