Claudia

by Michele McGrath

  I must find out for myself, she thought again.

  After she had broken her fast, Claudia sent for Marcus and ordered him to put on rough clothing. He was to accompany her to a house outside the city. When he tried to protest, she silenced him.

  “It is an order. Say nothing to anyone else.”

  She wore her oldest tunic, once a favourite but now faded from the sun and frequent washings. She had never been able to make herself dispose of it. She had worn that dress on the only day her daughter lived. Somehow it seemed right to wear it again today. Carefully, she shrouded all of her hair, tying the veil tightly, in the manner of a peasant woman.

  I must look like a hag, she thought, as she took off her jewellery and placed it on the table.

  She slipped out of the house without alerting the servants. Marcus made sure no one saw them as they left.

  “Where to, Lady?” Marcus asked when they had reached the obscurity of a side street.

  “To the house of Simon the Leper in Bethany.”

  “Where that prophet is staying?” he asked in surprise.

  “You know that?”

  “Everyone does. People are talking about little else.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “That he is a prince, come to rule over this land. That he will send the Master and the rest of our people away.”

  “Does my husband know?”

  Marcus nodded. “Of course.”

  “What does the Master say to that?”

  “When they told him, he laughed and said ‘Let him try!’”

  The road was long and dusty. Claudia was unused to walking any distance and her sandals began to rub her feet. Soon she was desperately uncomfortable but, although she wondered many times on the journey why she was doing this, turning back never crossed her mind. Determination to find out drove her on. Eventually, when the sun was nearly at its zenith, they saw their destination, a jumble of huts. Nothing remarkable about the village, except the large crowd surrounding the dwellings, filling all the available space. There was a buzz of conversation, occasional laughter and the rustle of people moving. The focus of the gathering was a house a little way down an alley. It had been built at an angle to the sun, so the doorway was shaded. The crowd was dense in front of the door, but a small pathway had been left clear. A man and then a woman bearing a jar came and went along this tiny lane, even as Claudia watched. They shuffled through the people with difficulty and vanished into the hut. A tall man stood in the entrance and acted as a doorman, allowing people to come and go or stopping others.

  “What now, Lady?” Marcus asked. There was a certain grim tone in his voice which Claudia recognised but she simply said,

  “Now we wait.”

  The words “For what?” seemed to ring in the air but were unspoken. Marcus was too good a servant to protest, whatever he thought of her actions, unless her safety was at stake.

  “Let us get out of the sun.”

  “I want to see what is happening.”

  “You can see from over there,” he pointed to a place where a corner made a patch of shade some distance away from the back of the crowd. Three other people sheltered there but there was room for them as well. From there Claudia would be able to see over the heads of the sitting people. A good spot, if you did not want to be too close to the house.

  I can always go closer if I need to, Claudia thought, and it is so very hot. I would not be able to stay long in the sun. “Very well,” she said.

  Claudia hobbled forward and smiled at the others, as they moved to let her join them. She propped herself against the wall and looked down at her throbbing feet.

  “Loosen my sandals. They hurt me,” she ordered Marcus. A welt lay across her toes where the thongs had rubbed and reddened the soft skin. Marcus looked concerned.

  “I doubt you will be able to walk back, Lady. If you try, you won’t be able to walk again for some days. Shall I see if I can find some sort of a ride for you? One of the men here will no doubt have animals for hire.”

  “Not yet,” Claudia said. The noise of the gathering had changed. Something was happening. The crowd moved to let a small procession through: an elderly man; then a younger man carrying a child who clung to him; then a woman wailing loudly. They went right up to the doorway and the doorman spoke with them. They paused for a moment then he ushered the man and child inside. The old man and the woman had to stay outside with the rest of the onlookers.

  “Who is the man guarding the door?” Claudia asked the woman beside her. He was not young and he was poorly dressed.

  “Don’t you know?” the woman replied. “He is the Master’s chief follower, a friend from Galilee.”

  “And the man with the child?”

  “His name is Jalon. He lives not far from here. Hannah, his daughter has never walked. He has brought her to the Master in the hope he will cure her. Jalon is going to ask him.”

  Claudia nodded.

  “Have you seen enough, Lady?” Marcus asked. He was looking very uncomfortable, especially as one of their companions smelled strongly of goats. Marcus had screwed up his nose, trying not to sneeze. “Shall I go to see if I can find a ride for you?”

  “No. I want to find out if he cures the child,” she replied, wondering at herself as she did so. Who would ever have thought that she, Claudia, the granddaughter of an emperor, would be standing in this dusty street, full of odd smells? But she did not want to leave yet, before something had happened.

  “Can anyone go inside the house?” she asked the woman, who seemed to know what was going on.

  “Only if you have a good reason for doing so,” she was told. “The Master is not a sight to be gawped at.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Not I. I wish I did. He healed my cousin’s husband and she never ceases praising his name. Perhaps if I wait long enough, he will pass this way and I might be able to touch the hem of his garment and be cured myself. My eyes are growing old and clouded.”

  Loud cries interrupted her and the sound of a child’s laughter. The young man came out, holding the child by her hand. She was laughing and, although she was unsteady on her feet, she walked by her father’s side.

  “Praise God. It’s a miracle,” Jalon cried out in and everybody cheered.

  Claudia found that her face was wet with tears as she shouted too. Beside her, Marcus shifted uneasily. She turned to look at him and he said,

  “Lady, surely you don’t believe this nonsense?”

  “The child could not walk, now she can,” Claudia replied.

  “They chose a child who could walk already. It’s an old trick…”

  “No she couldn’t!” the woman interrupted angrily. “I know her well. Her grandmother is my friend. Hannah has never walked until now. It’s what we have all been praying for and I have been here to see it happen. Oh bless the Master and bless the day!” The woman started to sob and cry out, running forwards and drawing eyes towards the little group she had been with. She said something and the people began to murmur, a sullen sound.

  “Lady, come away,” Marcus begged. “The crowd is becoming restive and if they turn nasty, I alone could not save you from harm.” Claudia looked at him and realised he was badly frightened.

  “Let us go a little way then.”

  “Back to Jerusalem?” he asked hopefully.

  “Not yet.”

  Claudia limped down one of the alleys where there were fewer people. It led to the village well. No one was there, which was odd. The usual group of chattering women was, no doubt, sitting outside the leper’s house with all the rest. Marcus drew up a bucket of water and they both drank. Then he bathed Claudia’s damaged feet.

  “That looks painful,” someone said.

  Claudia looked up and recognised the redheaded girl who had followed the Prophet into Jerusalem.

  “You need ointment to ease your skin.”

  “Thank you. I can pay if you have any.”

  “No need.” The re
dhead pointed to a set of steps which led onto the roof of one of the houses. “Sit there while I fetch it for you. I will only be a moment.” She was as good as her word and a few minutes later she reappeared with a small jar and some torn rags. Carefully she anointed Claudia’s toes and wrapped them up.

  “Are you going far?” she asked.

  “Back to the city.”

  “That is a long way for someone like you. You don’t often walk, do you?”

  “No.”

  “What brought you here?”

  “I wanted to see the Prophet again.”

  “You have seen him before?”

  “When he came into Jerusalem. You were with him that day.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there anywhere where my mistress can rest out of the sun, while I find a donkey or a horse to carry her back to the city?” Marcus asked.

  “There is a small garden not far from here. I will take her there. Ask at that house…” she pointed. “The man is called Seth. He sometimes hires his donkey.”

  “Shall I go and ask him, L…” he stopped short on the title.

  “L..?” the redhead asked.

  “My name is Livia,” Claudia said quickly.

  “Roman?”

  Claudia nodded.

  “Why would a Roman come to see the Master?” The girl suddenly seemed suspicious.

  “He seems to be an interesting man. I want to know more about him.” Even to her own ears, the excuse sounded feeble but Claudia could not think of anything better. ‘Because I am afraid for my husband’ was worse.

  “Shall I go or stay with you?” Marcus repeated his question.

  “Go.”

  Fortunately the redhead was distracted, watching as Marcus entered the door of the house she had pointed out to him.

  “Come then,” she said to Claudia, holding out her hand to help her to rise. Claudia rose shakily to her feet. She allowed herself to be led past the houses and a little distance along a path to where a grove of old olive trees offered shade. A few wild flowers grew there, their bright colours a welcome relief after the dust and the withered grasses. Three women sat on a make-shift bench, made from a plank of wood resting on two stones, talking together in low tones. They stopped when they saw Claudia and the redhead. Among them, was the older woman who had followed the Prophet. She looked concerned as she welcomed them.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked Claudia. “You are limping.”

  “I walked from the city and I don’t often walk so far.”

  “Then you need to sit down,” one of the other women said and rose to give Claudia her place.

  “Don’t get up,” Claudia tried to stop her. “I did not come to disturb your rest.”

  “No matter. I was going anyway; I must start the cooking.” She gave Claudia a smile and walked away.

  “I am Miryam, the widow of Yossef,” the woman with the sweet face said. “This is Marta and Miryam, my namesake.” She pointed to the redhead.

  “I am Livia, the wife of Caius,” Claudia lied, with an inner grin as she thought about Caius. He would be horrified she had claimed to be his wife, but he was not well known in Judea, having only recently arrived from Rome. Claudia did not dare to give her true name so far away from the city, even though she felt no threat and only kindness from these people. What if they found out who she really was? Better not put it to the test.

  “Sit with us, there is room for three.”

  Claudia perched herself on the end of the bench which wobbled a bit with her weight.

  “What brings you here?” Miryam, the widow of Yossef asked.

  “I wanted to see the Prophet.”

  “Yeshua is my son,” Miryam sighed. “Many wish to do so but he is very tired and is resting. I cannot disturb him for some hours, unless there is a very great need. We travel to Jerusalem tonight.”

  “I saw the child who was cured,” Claudia told her. “Your son must have great power to do such things.”

  “Yeshua is the best son a mother could have,” the woman smiled. “Do you have children of your own?”

  “Not now.” Claudia’s thoughts flashed to the two small graves in Rome, so far away. To lose a child was such agony. Her friends had thought her weak. Many infants did not live to be adults, it was a cruel reality, something to be accepted but she had wanted to die. For days she had been followed and all means of taking her own life were hidden from her. In the end, she became calmer, but she had never looked on life in quite the same way again and she never bore any more babies.

  “You have known much sorrow,” the widow said, looking into her face. “I have never lost a child.”

  Claudia nodded. “My son would be ten, if he had lived, and my daughter eight.”

  “That is hard. May the good God help you in your grief.”

  Suddenly something seemed to break inside Claudia and she found herself sobbing in the widow’s arms, crying as she had not cried for many years. When her tears ceased at last, she stammered,

  “I came here today in the hope of avoiding more sorrow. I love my husband and I dreamt…” Claudia stopped.

  “If you wish to tell us, we will listen.”

  Claudia found herself telling the story of both her dreams. When she had finished, the widow said with a sigh,

  “Some things are written and cannot be changed. I know my son is in danger and this is something I find very hard to accept at times. For his fate to be bound up with your husband’s welfare seems strange. I will pray for you and tell Yeshua what you have said. Perhaps a way can be found to prevent this thing that you fear.”

  “Thank you, I am grateful and glad I have met you.”

  Silence fell for a few moments. Then Marcus arrived, holding the halter of a small donkey. Claudia said her farewells and mounted awkwardly on the beast. Her thoughts were whirling, but her mind felt easier.

  I have done all I can, she thought. This woman will tell the Prophet about my dreams and perhaps he will go away so no one can accuse him and bring him before my husband. I hope so.

  Despite not having to walk on the return journey, Claudia was still hobbling that evening and her husband noticed.

  “What have you done to yourself?” he asked.

  “I walked to Bethany.”

  “You walked to Bethany?” he repeated in amazement. “Why did you do such a thing? You promised me that you would not wander through the city.”

  “And I did not. I went straight to Bethany and Marcus came with me.”

  “What took you to such a place? It’s only a few dirty hovels as I remember.”

  “I had a reason. I want to tell you why, but we must be alone with no one to overhear.”

  “Then I will send our attendants away.”

  He did so then sat down and said, “Tell me.”

  “I was frightened for you. I love you, my husband.”

  He took her hand and held it. “And I love you. Why should you be afraid for me?”

  The story of her dream had seemed so reasonable when Claudia told it to the mother of the Prophet. Now she found herself hesitating and losing the thread of what she was saying. Her husband did not grow impatient and gently led her back to the subject, when she seemed to wander.

  “I never interfere with your decisions,” she said when she had told him the story of her dreams and her visit to Bethany. “Yet something made you take your own life and I cannot bear the thought of it.”

  “People often dream about the deaths of those they care for. I saw my mother’s death years before it happened. The dream was warped and she died in a different way to my vision, a kinder way.”

  “I too have had such dreams, but never like this. I could almost reach out and touch you, although you were not aware of me. I could not stop you, even though I tried.”

  “It will not happen. I cannot imagine doing such a thing for any reason. How could I possibly leave you?”

  “You may not be given the choice. Your death is somehow connected with this prophet
. The scenes are linked, I am sure of it. He is more than just another charlatan, working tricks for the credulous. Some people fear him and will bring him before you, accusing him of dreadful things.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He stood before you, as if he was a prisoner. Please, husband, have nothing to do with him. He is a good man and innocent of wrong doing. Would a rascal take his mother with him on his journeys? I have suffered much these last two days, thinking of the future.”

  “I have never known you like this,” he responded. “Are you so sure these things will come true?”

  “I am certain of it.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “You are a just man. When he is brought before you and if you decide that he is not guilty of the crimes they will charge him with, let him go free.”

  “If I can, but remember that this is a strange land to both of us. People here act differently to the way we do in Rome. I cannot always follow the path I would choose. Sometimes it is necessary to preserve peace, even at a cost. Yet, if you are right and this man is brought before me, I will do my best to set him free provided, he is indeed innocent.”

  “Thank you.” Claudia raised her husband’s hand to her lips and kissed it.

  “In the meanwhile,” her husband continued, “I am worried about you and I think you should return to Caesarea. It will be cooler there and more comfortable. I do not want you to become ill.”

  “Oh, husband, no! Let me stay with you.”

  “If there is trouble coming to this city, you would be in danger. In Caesarea you would be safe with enough soldiers to protect you. Passover can be a difficult time, as you know. I will follow as soon as I can. This is an order, Claudia, and you will obey me.”

  He arrived in Caesarea several days later to find Claudia looking brighter in the cool sea breeze but also anxious. New lines had formed in the corners of her eyes and her eyelids looked heavy, as if she had not slept well. When she could, she asked him,

  “The Prophet?”

  He sighed. “Your prophet is dead.”

  She gasped and sat down hurriedly. “How?”