Woman in Red: Magdalene Speaks

by Krishna Rose

  “I have thought long and hard about how best to proceed, given this unusual situation we now face,” my uncle deliberated. “We must be guarded, all of us, for no one . . .” he said, looking around the room “is to be trusted. News of Jesu’s location will merit a good fortune to someone of need. I will reward the servants well for their silence,” he admitted, uncomfortably shifting in his chair. “Though I have no doubt our maids and valets are faithful, riches invariably possess an allure, even to the most loyal of heart. Therefore, we shall take no chances.

  “Jesu resurrected, is more dangerous than before. It will not be safe here past two weeks, and only so as to allow time for his body to recover enough that we might move him. I shall make plans for us to leave for Egypt, there to remain until Mariam has given birth. Are we all in agreement?” he asked. Everyone nodded silently. “Good,” he premised, “I think it wise to take refuge in Scetis. So since we are agreed, I shall send word of our imminent arrival. Of course, they know not who comes with us . . .” he grinned.

  “Once the child is born, we shall depart from the port of Alexandria by ship. We will not be out of danger for long . . . even in Scetis. So let us with haste, each of us, make all necessary arrangements for our evacuation. Be diligent. Talk to no one of our plans. Sell your properties and possessions, and travel only with those items which warrant the weight of our departure,” he cautioned.

  “The Sanhedrin will not rest until they find Jesu—dead or alive,” he said, with a menacing tone to his voice. “I expect they’ll hunt and stalk our trail until there is no breath left in any of our kind. So once the child is born,” he said glancing in my direction, “we shall move to the Cahors region in Gallia,” he said, looking for the pulse of his family, who listened attentively. “I fear it is too great a journey with Jesu so fragile, and you, Mariam, in your condition,” he clarified. “Else we’d depart for my ship today,” he said uneasily.

  “I’ve agonized all week on this. Our travel should take less than two moons, dependent upon the winds,” he promised. “You will identify with the Cahors region. Surrounded by mountains and large forests, there are clean rivers and ancient caves nestled in the hillsides. Humankind has survived there for thousands of years before us. Jewish and Essene communities have been living there for some time, and the pagans and Celts of that region, live respectfully beside our people. It is a safe place to raise children . . .” he said, beaming at me hopefully.

  Raising a glass, he chimed, “May the Lord bless you with many children, for their blood runs holy! Your progeny are the future Kings and Queens of the new world,” he declared boldly. And with that, everyone saluted me.

  Covering my face with my veil, “How embarrassing, Uncle,” I said grimacing, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

  “Jesu may convince us that his mission should yet remain here, so I suggest that the women pull at his heartstrings to see reason. Are we agreed?” he said, looking around the room. Everyone nodded in agreement. With a renewed determination, dismissing any negative thoughts which had amassed on me like a great burden, I assured my family, “I shall speak with my husband and convince him of it.”

  The meal was delightful. After so many days without any real nourishment, I was ravenous. We ate dates, figs, nuts, olives, tomatoes, and bread soaked in olive and sage oil, with herbal vinegars and cheeses. Once the meal concluded, we thanked the Lord for our many blessings.

  “Thank You Lord for the many blessings You give us, for the land, and for the blessings upon our time spent together. May Your love rest upon us, and bless us, now and ever more. We trust in Your power to keep us, and pray You guard our lives, henceforth and forevermore. Amein.”

  “Amein.”

  Three days passed and Jesu still slept. He did not stir, not even as we bathed him or changed his poultices. He was the image of undefiled virtue, baptized in flesh and spirit. To me, he appeared not to be sleeping, but riveted in a transcendent state of serene inner vision. Later, I was to find out that family, friends, and disciples, had seen Jesu in manifest visions up and down the country.

  At night, as we changed his bandages, suddenly his eyes opened and he smiled. The Mary immediately sent the maid to bring food and drink, for he had not taken any nourishment in three days.

  “I have more nourishment to offer you, than you do I . . .” he said, his voice firm as a rock, while he jested with the maid as she pensively handed him a tray. She laughed nervously at the thrill of hearing him speak to her.

  Jesu reached for my cheek, collecting a tear on the edge of his finger, kissing it to his lips. “I did not die, yet alive I remain not,” he divulged, his voice broody and broken. Sitting in silence, he partook of a few morsels, while we watched, seized by the import of that moment. Then, all at once, I was fearful, calling to mind Judas’s demise. Unsure of whether it would be the appropriate time to inform him, I hovered insecurely in my doubt.

  “Marjan, why do you hesitate? Can you not be with me as we once were? I may be like a ghost returned unto you, but I am still your husband,” he said, seemingly amused, the side of his lip curled up jokingly. “I have sad tidings, husband” I said gravely. “Brace yourself. For it is most regretful. I hesitate, for I wish not to disturb your peace,” I told him, reaching for his hand, taking it in mine.

  “Marjan, pity not the dead, but the living who pay no heed to death’s assured call. Fret no more, for you need not speak of it,” he said before I could say the words. “I know that Judas is dead. I saw him, true as when he walked among us. His spirit was crouched low beneath a tree—wounded, a rope still around his neck. He was weeping, so I went to him and we held on to one another. I cut the rope from him and prayed with his spirit which was restless. Then he disappeared from my sight. He was the most devoted of them all . . .” he said tearfully. “I lost a most treasured friend. If he had but waited . . . he would still be among us,” he said, voice fraught with emotion, turning his head from me.

  Judas, like many of us, doubted Jesu could survive the brutality of crucifixion. We had all lost hope— except for my uncle, whose faith seemed never to waver. Yet the Lord can take a life and He can give it. Perhaps we had been blinded by our familiarity with Jesu. But now there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind as to who he was—since scripture had been fulfilled by the life which now coursed through him.

  “I understand why the Lord wanted this of me, Marjan. For when someone throws a stone, believing in their righteousness, that same stone brings about their moral failure. My sacrifice was not for those who are clean of heart. Nor for those whose faith is easily come by. But for the wicked and lost, who I would lay down my life for again and again if but to save them. My favor is with the Lord, and I shall no longer burden my soul with what the people of this world presume about me. For all things are governed by His will—not man’s,” he said brimming with influence, compassion exuding out of his dulcet timbre.

  “In my dishonor, I was raised up, and in my darkest humiliation, I saw how miserly men can be. They hide behind the thin veils of spiritual deceit. The Lord heeded how they pleasured in my suffering,” he said, glancing up at me for a moment—vulnerable and broken.

  “I live not for the living, nor the dead, but for those encounters which bring closeness to the Lord. And though the discomforts of this world, may on occasion sting as thorns, I would most surely sacrifice this body a thousand times if it meant that the Lord would be pleased by my efforts—for I hold nothing back from Him. Nor does He hold anything from me. These bodies live by His mercy alone. The envious, through my destruction, have shown their weakness for evil, which suckles at their breast. Yet now, through me, they too shall be healed. Satan weeps because of it.

  “They amused themselves at my expense, and upon my sorrow, yet it was they, who after my torture, returned home with shame and guilt upon th
eir backs. And while they said Shabbat prayers that night, it was my bloodstained face which stared back at them. In that moment, they saw the pain and suffering that would yet be theirs, and before God, they bowed regretfully. In their rottenness, they repented to Him privately. The thorn of their wretched and most miserable condition, I removed, so that the Kingdom shall for them be made available, wherefore before, it was forever withdrawn from them. Certainly it is those who are evil-minded and without hope of change—that I have come for.”

  Rolling onto his right side, he winced, for the pain was great, though he complained not. “Henceforth, I shall not take one drop of this world unto myself. Within the blinking of one’s eye, this life can be gone from us. Our destination thereafter is the only work worth toiling for. The scheming deceptions of this world may lead the mass of people astray, but I have come to dissuade them from their fruitless efforts. In truth, I have seen that they whither with an ache that is great, and I plan to unbind them from the chains which cause them to suffer.

  “Such an ache cannot be filled by the so-called comforts on offer in the marketplace. My full nature has spent itself in deeds which shall leave an incalculable effect on those who hear my words. It is an honor to be here with you again after all we have tolerated,” he said nodding at his mother and I. “There is much I wish to share, for I have seen things, which shall in time be revealed to you. But not yet,” he said, pulling me to him, as if he had a great secret he wished to share. He said nothing, kissing me on my mouth.

  “Jesu, may I ask one thing of you before you rest?” I questioned him. “Ask what you will—always.” “I appeal to your better nature, that it is in our family’s best interest to leave this place soon—for we all feel uneasy here,” I pleaded sincerely. “I am unsure,” he said thoughtfully, eyes closed. “I am confused for the first time in my life. It is difficult to pretend nothing has happened. Others will see my body is gone, and none of us are to be found in Jerusalem. No doubt a campaign will soon follow. We are indeed faced with a very real threat. Now, one can only believe that the Lord has a plan . . . and it can only be good,” he reasoned, opening one eye in my direction playfully.

  “However, before leaving, I must tend our flock. They must see me and know me to be among them once more, for only then will they go into the world with hope for the impoverished,” he said, opening his other eye, glancing down at my swollen stomach. “Marjan, are you and the child well?” he asked. “Yes Jesu. By the Lord’s good grace, our child grows stronger each day,” I said, leaning toward him, stroking his furrowed brow.

  “No shadow shall fall upon us now. Fear nothing. But tell me, what is it that ails you so?” he asked me, eyes narrowing questioningly, as if reading my mind. “Are you not happy now that your husband has returned to you?” he remarked under a bubble of laughter. “Jesu, I fear Caiaphas. He offers astonishing rewards for knowledge of our whereabouts. As long as we remain here, I shall worry. I yearn for security, to birth our child in peace,” I said, twisting a piece of my hair between my fingers nervously.

  “Some of the maids gossip in the kitchens. I have heard them say that people in the marketplace call you a wrongdoer. They say you should apologize for escaping punishment. People think you misled the faithful and that your raising the dead and healing the sick was merely an act. Even after everything we have been through, there are still those who will see you torn from life and thrown to the dogs before they will rest. Now that we have you back, I want to flee, never again to return,” I said, pushing for what I wanted.

  “Then I agree. We should leave. I do not wish to cause you anymore disturbance,” he said, closing his eyes peacefully. “I have seen our future, Marjan. Be at peace, for no harm shall come to us now. Though I cannot say the same for our descendants . . .” he said trailing off.

  “Did you know that I lived in Scetis when I was a child? We lived there until my grandfather, King Herod the Great died, God rest his soul,” he said, in a voice devoid of emotion. “It would please me very much to return there. Now let me rest. I shall eat more tomorrow. Thank the maids for their offerings, but I am not ready for all that they prepared for me. Tomorrow . . .” he said pushing away the tray.

  Silently I left Jesu’s room, relieved it had gone well. I fell into a satisfied dreamless sleep in the room beside the King’s chamber, where my husband slept, safe in the knowledge that very soon we would leave these shores, never again to return.

  CHAPTER 13

  WISDOM

  Wisdom is to have insight and understanding through experience.

  Like a camouflaged secret, Jesu and I sheltered the treasure of our affection within long periods of silence and precious sidelong glances. Words could not adequately voice in earnest, the enormity of how we both felt. Therefore our quietude felt complete, as if our souls were intertwined within the awe of our very existence.

  Being in Jesu’s presence was unlike any other experience. I still found myself, even now, after a lifetime of close friendship, fascinated by him. There was an uncertainty to his ways, which defied convention. Though people loved him, they also feared him and were often uneasy in his company. Some attempted, unsuccessfully, to disguise their discomfort. The cause of their disquiet, was Jesu’s innate ability to command deep-seated falsities to arise from within their own buried nature. Unable to resist his magnetic appeal, even well-hidden guilt and shame could not hold the most secret of things from his summons. Yet once exposed, their sins could only but fall away by his presence, for his very nature was miraculous in and of itself.

  As I moved about his room, quietly tending his needs, I could feel him watching and assessing me, though his eyes were not directly looking my way. Our souls were so deeply attuned to one another, that even physical proximity was not an issue. We knew when one was remembering the other.

  After our first wedding, he had liked to make a show of kissing me on the lips, especially in front of Peter and the others, much to my embarrassment. Peter especially had grumbled about it and Jesu would laugh, and, like the trailblazer he was, did it more often to show that he would not be controlled by anyone—Peter especially. He had raised me up and in every way made me feel that I was very much his equal, to the disapproval of the predominantly male audience.

  “One of your tears is worth more than thousands of prayers,” he told me. “Love is not found within intelligence, nor in memorization of scriptures, nor laws, nor incantations. It is a curious thing that men make such a great show of their learning, yet it is their very learning which distances them from the true ornament of holy potentiality. The path is simple—though there are stages. One thing is required and one thing alone . . .” he said, lifting my chin up with his hand.

  “Do you know what that one thing is, Marjan? It is lamentable tears. And tears are your glory—for you Marjan, have plenty of them!” he told me blithely.

  I woke with a start. My visions had become more frequent, and they were, each time, tangibly more realistic. I had seen Judas, surrounded by sordid men in robes, chanting incantations over him as he cowered and wept. They were, by use of black magic, attempting to charm him to their side of wickedness, to force him into Hell. Judas, seized, trembled in fear. He was in a loathsome state and I vowed to find his soul, even within Hell if needs be, to retrieve him.

  Holding elaborately designed gold crosses in their hands, like weapons, in a threatening manner, the men in robes shouted at him and shackled him, casting lengthy drawn-out curses, all while claiming to have rights over Jesu’s name. My heart and head raged. What was this scene I was witnessing?

  Judas scuffled with them, as they spoke damnations upon mine and Jesu’s bloodline. Picking up axes with their ulcerous hands, they cursed loudly, cutting into hundreds of grapevines, which to them symbolized our lineage. In a horrific ritual, they lay ruin upon our progeny, the
blood of our issue spilling forth like a fount from the vines’ roots—attacked by their thirst for power.

  To rule the fate of mankind, was the fuel behind their vengeance upon our dynasty. In a methodical plan to conjure an overthrowing of our sovereignty. Their ambition and objective was to rule and dominate our story—by maxim. Judas, regretfully was to become a pawn in their shrewd game. Drained of breath, he wailed, grieving bitterly at the loss of his life. He was powerless to affect a change, given his situation.

  In haste, Jesu, choked with emotion, reached for a glass of herbal infusion on his bedside. Soft rays of light pried through the shut curtains, dancing on the water’s surface as he drank it down rapidly—as if swallowing the pain of what he had seen. I knew in that moment that he too had witnessed my vision.

  “I have seen what is to come . . .” he said sadly. “Lies will be told, and wars will wage in my name. A few faithful supporters of our cause, forced to hide, shall remain. While the true account of our lives, by a cruel twist of fate, shall come to be concealed within secret guilds. Yet truth, by its nature, shall sprout through the fissures of time. It is as the Lord wills, so shall it be. I have battled with my soul over what is to come and have concluded that it is not for you, nor I, to attempt to change the course of what shall be. For our charge is not found within the workings of this world, Marjan.

  “We shall instead commit ourselves entirely to the inward voyage. Without this, the cascade of our Lord’s mercy will not be complete. The legacy of the Kingdom is ours to give, and in time, the righteous shall tire of deceptive ordainment. At that time, we shall again return, to complete what was given before. We will have prepared the way. And immorality and evil-mindedness will be overcome,” he proclaimed.

  “But . . . Judas,” I sighed sorrowfully. “Judas’s soul belongs to our Father. What we have seen is only the beginning, not the end of what is to come. In the meanwhile, know this and put your mind at ease—I am actively campaigning for his soul. Now let me rest, that I may go forth and deliver him.”