Mary Magdalene A Novel

by Diana Wallis Taylor

  The young man was thoughtful for a moment but then nodded his head. “Whatever forces trouble Mary, we will face them together. I will find some way to make her well. I give you my word on that.”

  Jared’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Your words bring hope to a father’s heart. I only felt you must know the truth of what you are facing in marriage to my daughter. May the Holy One, blessed be his name, shed his mercy on the covenant between us.”

  12

  It had been a long night. Mary awakened to find herself on the floor by her bed and didn’t know how she got there. Then the blinding pain began. She put her hands to her head and prayed with all her might. Oh HaShem, protect me on this day of all days. Please help me. I cannot go to Nathan like this. Oh Holy One, blessed be your name, I cannot get through the wedding. I don’t want to shame my parents. Please, help me.

  To her joy, the pain began to lift, and in a few moments she felt almost herself. Rejoicing, she dressed simply and hurried downstairs.

  Her mother turned from the table where she was cutting fruit and stood quietly. “You are well this morning?” It was the question she asked nearly every morning, but this time it had even more significance.

  “I am well, Mama. The pain started but it is gone.”

  Her mother’s face registered relief.

  Mary helped her mother with the bread and took date cakes from the stone crocks to arrange on the tables.

  There was much to do and her mother kept her busy, with a multitude of tasks, sweeping the courtyard, and anything else she could find for her to do. Men from her father’s boatyard came early and set up extra tables in the courtyard.

  At last the family dressed in their finest to meet their guests. As the neighbors began to arrive, some of the women brought tambourines and lutes to play.

  Even though they had avoided her in her illness, Mary asked two friends she had known from childhood to attend her. They had met at the well and the two young women would not commit themselves. Mary was unsure they would even come. It saddened her, but she understood. Her problems frightened them. She met them occasionally in the village, and they spoke a few words, but then hurried off, almost glad to get away.

  To Mary’s surprise and relief, her friends Hushim and Prisca did come. They entered the courtyard with their parents, their manner apprehensive. Seeing Mary smiling and appearing well, they seemed encouraged and stepped forward.

  “We came to help you with your wedding.”

  Prisca nodded. “We are truly glad for you, Mary, truly.”

  It added to Mary’s happiness and she felt her heart would burst. “Thank you for coming. I’m so glad you are here to share this day with me.”

  She welcomed them with an embrace and they went with her to dress for the wedding.

  The sun had broken out and the day promised to be a warm one. Garlands woven from the Palestine daisy that bloomed prolifically in the fall cascaded from the walls and were draped around the courtyard for a festive look. The tables were laden with food as each woman in the neighborhood contributed her special dish.

  Mary’s friends helped her into her tunic of fine white linen embroidered with leaves and tiny blue flowers. A band of wedding coins representing her dowry was placed on her head, along with a soft veil of silk. On top of that, Prisca and Hushim wound a small wreath.

  They could already hear the musicians her father had hired begin to play in the courtyard, the soft plunking of the lutes, joined by a drummer and the sound of the tambourine.

  Mary looked up through her veil and watched her mother when Rachel did not know anyone was looking. The overwhelming sadness Mary saw in her mother’s face startled her. Was she upset at seeing her daughter married and off to another home? Then she saw the object of her mother’s gaze—Abba. A dart of fear touched Mary’s heart. Her father had been coughing more lately, but her mother had assured her Merab’s potions were helping. Were they? Lost in her thoughts, Mary was aware of someone nudging her.

  “Mary,” Hushim whispered, “Nathan is at the gate.”

  Mary rose and slowly walked to her father’s side.

  “You are most beautiful, my blossom. May your day be happy in every way.”

  “Thank you, Abba.”

  She took his arm as they entered the courtyard where Nathan and his friends waited with torches to escort them through the streets. They agreed to return to Mary’s home for the canopy and wedding feast, for Nathan’s family home was too small for his father to host it.

  Nathan lifted Mary’s veil, exclaimed what a treasure he’d found, and then just before he lowered the veil, he winked at her and they smiled at each other.

  The whole neighborhood entered the joyous procession; it seemed that all who knew the family wished them well. Hushim and Prisca carried small clay lamps filled with oil and others carried torches. Mary caught a few anxious looks on faces as they passed, but good wishes were called out from the crowd.

  As they passed down one street, a little boy peered at Mary and turned to his mother. “Is that really Mad Mary, Mama?” The mother hastily moved back in the crowd out of sight.

  Mary the mad woman, Mary the wild woman, Mad Mary. What other names did they call her behind her back? She lifted her chin, keeping a smile on her face as she kept walking by Nathan’s side. He pressed her closer to him, keeping her arm in his. She knew he’d heard the words also.

  When at last they returned with their following to Mary’s home, the wedding was held under the canopy. In spite of her happiness, the words of the rabbi were almost a blur. She answered, and dutifully circled Nathan seven times according to tradition. She moved almost as if in a dream. Her heart beat faster as she thought of the time when they would be alone. She prayed HaShem would help her to get through this night’s festivities and be well.

  She thought of the talk she’d had with her mother the night before. Rachel sat on the edge of her bed. Taking Mary’s hand, she gently told her more details about the physical love she would share with Nathan, the things she would need to know as a bride. Mary did not fear her wedding night, but feared more any outbreak of her illness that would mar her wedding day and the marriage bed she would share with Nathan.

  When at last her mother had gone, Mary lay awake a long time, wondering what the future would hold. Could she bear children? Would her affliction continue? How long would Nathan be patient? She seemed to hear conflicting voices in her head and willed them away. Eventually she fell into a deep sleep, her mind filled with strange dreams and faces and then, in the morning, found herself on the floor.

  Her reverie was broken as Nathan led her to their special chairs. They sat happily as friends and neighbors began to present their wedding gifts: chickens, a bag of flour, pottery bowls and platters, pillows filled with down feathers for their bed, spices, woven cloths, and candles.

  Nathan’s father presented them with a beautifully carved wooden menorah. “May the Holy One, blessed be his name, bless your marriage. Welcome to our family, Mary.”

  She smiled up at him. He was a kind man and she resolved to be a good daughter-in-law and give him no cause to regret having her in their home. Yet, as soon as the thoughts passed through her mind, she feared she couldn’t keep that resolve if her illness continued. Did he know about the nightmares? Would he be as patient as her parents had been?

  “Thank you, Father Beriah. I will do my best.”

  When at last most of the wedding guests had gone, Mary said goodbye to her parents. There were tears in Rachel’s eyes as she embraced her daughter and wished them well. Her father had trouble controlling his emotions as he clasped Nathan on the shoulder and blessed them.

  Beriah held the torch high to light the way as Mary walked to the home of her new husband. Their previous housekeeper had married again and moved away. Mary wondered what they had done about the new woman, a widow named Rizpah, who now tended their home. She had been there a year, doing the household tasks and preparing simple meals. Would she still be at t
he house or had Beriah let her go?

  To Mary’s disappointment, Rizpah was indeed still at Nathan’s home, bustling about. She stopped and eyed Mary coldly as they entered the small yard.

  Beriah seemed surprised to find her there. “Rizpah, the hour is late. Is there something I can do for you?”

  She almost simpered. “I just wanted things to be ready for you and Nathan when you came with his new wife.”

  “That was kind of you, but let me see you safely to your home.”

  Rizpah wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. “I will be here in the morning at the usual time.”

  Nathan stepped forward. “Rizpah, you have been a blessing to both of us for the last year, but I hope you understand that my wife will now take over the duties of running the household.”

  The words “If she is able?” were spoken before the woman thought.

  Beriah glanced at his son’s face and quickly repeated, “Let me see you home.” He took her arm and steered her toward the gate.

  Mary had been to Nathan’s home only once before with her father and it was definitely not anything like her own home. It was much smaller and all the cooking area was outside in the tiny courtyard, but she felt a sense of possession. This was her home now and she would be the mistress of it.

  Nathan led her into the house to the room his father had occupied. It had been prepared with flowers and warm rugs. Beriah had moved his pallet to the main room where he had insisted he would sleep from now on. At least they had a little privacy.

  Nathan lifted her veil, and as he helped her from the wedding garments, she felt strangely calm and happy. This was what she wanted, to be Nathan’s wife, and HaShem had given him to her. Nathan blew out the candle and took her in his arms. Then, as a bird sang softly outside in the darkness, calling to his mate, they discovered the joy of becoming one.

  14

  To the delight of Mary and her mother, a small miracle occurred. Jared began to get better. His coughing subsided and he stopped spitting up blood. Mary felt their prayers for him had been heard and rejoiced. Her father had been granted a small reprieve by the Most High God, blessed be his name.

  Mary felt it was a sign that she would also get better. She and Nathan had come from the exorcism at the Temple with high hopes. Mary did not suffer the headaches and seizures or even the nightmares on the way home. She could hardly contain herself. Was there a chance now that she would feel normal? Would HaShem also enable her to bear a child? Each month that had gone by had seen her hopes dashed, but now she had reason to hope again. She could only pray that the enemy was not just lying in wait to strike again.

  On the last evening, before they reached Magdala, Mary listened from her tent as her father, Nathan, and the other men sat around the campfire, deep in discussion.

  “The Roman soldiers who come to Magdala cause nothing but trouble, patronizing the brothels.”

  “There are fights on the streets of the city between drunken soldiers. Innocent civilians have been injured.”

  Jared spoke up. “The Hippodrome brings them. Gladiators fighting, animals and bloodshed, will it never end?”

  She recognized the voice of her uncle Zerah, who growled, “What can we do about it? We cannot fight the taxes, nor prevent the soldiers from coming. If we interfere, we are likely to get run through with a sword.”

  There was silence for a few moments.

  She knew Nathan. He would wait until the older men had spoken before commenting. At last she heard his voice. “That man who was crucified on one of their crossbeams outside the city when we left? A shopkeeper told me he was arrested for stealing from a soldier while he lay drunk in the streets. The man was hungry and took only enough for some bread.”

  There were murmurs of outrage among the other men.

  Beriah snorted. “A more fiendish means of torture and death could not be found—to suffocate in the sun when the pain in their arms no longer allows the poor victim to raise himself up for breath.”

  Her father spoke again over the murmuring. “The man committed a crime for which he was punished, but I feel the penalty was excessive.”

  As Mary listened to the men’s conversation, a chill went through her body. She had seen a man crucified once. Her mother had tried to get her to look away, but as a child she had stared at the poor man hanging there with heavy nails driven through his wrists and feet. What human being deserved to die that way?

  She listened again as her uncle changed the subject. “At least we have work. The boatyard is doing well.”

  “That is true,” Nathan said. “The reputation of our boats is well known.”

  There was no comment from Zerah, but Mary wondered what he was thinking. He had given in to Nathan becoming a part of the family and thus part of their business, but she sensed he was still not happy about it. There was something so sad about him. She tried to remember what he was like before her aunt and the baby had died, but it was so long ago, and she’d been so young, she had to take her mother’s word that he had indeed been different then.

  She lay down and covered herself with her cloak, waiting for Nathan to return to their tent. At last she heard his footsteps and in a moment he lay down beside her.

  “What were you talking about?”

  He chuckled. “I knew you were listening. We talked about things that men discuss, my curious wife.”

  He sounded stern, yet she could sense him smiling in the darkness. She waited. He would tell her, he always did.

  “It was of the Messiah to come. Samuel was reminded of Judas of Galilee who rose up in the days of the census, claiming to be the Messiah, but when he perished, his followers fell away. With the stranglehold Rome has on our people, we agreed it would be a good time for the Messiah to make his appearance.”

  He placed an arm across her. “There are some who feel talking of anything regarding religion is out of place for a woman.”

  “But why? You have taught me many things from the Torah.”

  “Yes, but not openly, Mary.” He sighed. “They worship many gods, these Romans, and do not understand the God we worship. We are careful not to make comments while at the Temple. The Romans have spies everywhere. One does not criticize Caesar.”

  Mary pushed herself up on one elbow as she whispered back fiercely, “My father is wise. He would not do that.”

  There was a murmur from another tent nearby and Nathan pulled her gently back down beside him. “We are disturbing those who want to sleep.”

  She pulled her cloak about her. Nathan had added his cloak to their covering. In only a few moments he was asleep.

  Mary smiled at the ease of his slumber and continued to stare into the night, thinking about the things the men had spoken about. What would the Messiah be like when he came? Would he come in her lifetime?

  At last, her eyes heavy, she moved closer to Nathan’s warm body and slept.

  Ignoring Rizpah’s protests, Mary went to the market by herself, two days after they returned, feeling that she did not need Eliab or Rizpah to go with her. She felt free and alive. It was a glorious morning and as she walked she heard the sounds of the sparrows calling to one another among the bushes. Her heart lifted as she looked at the first figs ripening plump and juicy on the trees and noted the grapes were nearly ready for harvest. She purchased what she needed and lingered at the leather shop, examining a pair of sandals. She needed a new pair but did not have enough of her household money to purchase them this day. In spite of the merchant’s persuasive pleas, she would have to talk to Nathan about them first. She turned away from the merchant’s stall and was walking toward home, feeling pleased with her outing, when she felt the familiar signs of a seizure coming on. She looked around anxiously for someone to help her. Her basket fell to the ground as she put her hands to her head to stop the voices that plagued her. She cried out and just as she was slipping into unconsciousness, she felt strong arms lifting her. It was the last she remembered until she woke up at home. Nathan was sitting beside
her. She looked up only to see his face dark with anger. Nathan had never been angry with her before, and she cowed back against the cushion.

  “Mary, you are never to go to the marketplace, or anywhere else, alone. Do you understand? Eliab came to the gate and Rizpah told him you had gone to the market. What would you have done if he had not gone to find you? You would be unconscious or worse along the road. What possessed you to go alone?”

  Her voice sounded small in her ears. “I thought I was well enough.”

  His face softened. “It was too soon to tell, beloved. Please do not frighten me again like that. I can deal with it when I’m here, but how can you manage if you are by yourself?”

  “I will not go alone again, I promise,” she answered meekly and looked up at him with large tears running down her cheeks.

  He fell on his knees and gathered her to him. “I could not bear it if I lost you. When Rizpah came to the boatyard to tell me I was needed at home, I feared the worst. From now on, either Rizpah or Eliab must go with you.”

  She nodded against his shoulder. “It will be as you wish, Nathan.”

  He kissed her and sat back. “I must return to work, there is an order of lumber coming in on one of the ships and I must go with Zerah to check the inventory. I will return later. Are you sure you are all right now?”

  She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. She had been so foolish. As she rose slowly, Nathan helped her up and she walked with him to the gate.

  “Take care, beloved,” he murmured and left.

  Mary turned to see Rizpah watching her with a smug look on her face.

  “Thank you, Rizpah, for sending Eliab.”

  The older woman shrugged. “He watches over you from a distance. Like a hawk, he is.”