Land of Silence

by Tessa Afshar

“The Lord, is it now? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  He walked in and tried to sit on the cushion I had just abandoned. “No!” I cried. “Don’t sit there.”

  He gave me an inquiring look. “Are you saving it for the Roman governor?”

  I flushed with embarrassment. I had not written him of my illness. I could not bear the shame of it. “It is unclean, Viriato. Sit on the couch. It’s comfortable and large enough even to suit a giant like you.”

  His brows knit together. “I like this cushion,” he said. “Your cleanliness laws bother me none, mistress.” He plopped himself on my cushion.

  Speech abandoned me for a moment. “Now you’ve done it. You won’t be able to interact with other Jews until you purify yourself.”

  He stretched his colossal legs and made himself comfortable. “I care not. But there is something I do wish to know. Why did you not tell me you were ailing? I would have come sooner had I known.”

  I threw Keziah an accusing glare. Her big smile vanished and she made herself busy with the dough for our evening meal. “Will you get out of my seat, you big Lusitanian? I have nowhere else to sit,” I said.

  “Why don’t you occupy the couch if it is so comfortable?”

  I stamped my foot like a two-year-old. “Because I am unclean. Joanna can sit on the couch when she comes to visit so long as I don’t touch it.”

  “I see.” Viriato moved so I could sit on the cushion. He turned to sprawl on the couch instead.

  “No!” I cried.

  “What now?”

  “You have become unclean by touching my seat. You cannot lie on the couch any longer. Not until you purify yourself.”

  He groaned. “Truly, I never thought to say this about anything. But this is worse than your food laws. What happens if someone touches you?”

  “They become unclean.”

  “What, even a loving embrace from your own sister?”

  “Unclean.”

  “What if they wear cloth you have woven on that loom in the corner?”

  “Unclean.” My jaws clenched. “I think you are beginning to comprehend. I am unclean. Impure. My presence disgusts people.”

  Viriato rubbed a clumsy hand against the back of his neck. “Mistress, never say that.”

  “It’s the truth, Viriato. I have a bleeding sickness. For a whole year, it has plagued me, and I have no hope it will end.”

  “I am sorry to hear you have been suffering, Mistress Elianna.” I saw pity well up in his big brown eyes.

  “You should pity yourself. Now you will have to wash all your clothes, bathe yourself, and you will still be considered unclean until the evening. It’s a real inconvenience.”

  “Excellent. Since we are both unclean, let us go all the way and eat whatever we wish. We can repent later.”

  I dissolved into laughter. I could not help myself. “You and your stomach. You allow it to get in the way of your walk with God.”

  “Well, that and the fact that he wishes to cut off bits of my body I have no interest in giving up.”

  I bit my lip. All at once, talking about my bleeding disease did not seem so awkward. Viriato had no shame. I had Keziah fetch another cushion and Viriato sat next to me as we talked into the evening.

  He stayed at an inn in Tiberias for a whole week. Every day he visited us, bringing with him cheer and the amusing stories of our trade. The poor man had to bathe and wash his clothes every day before returning to the inn after sunset. He did it without complaint, though, and when I objected, he said, “Bathing and fresh clothes merely serve to make me more handsome. You should see the fuss the women make of me when I arrive at the inn.”

  “I am sure they think you irresistible. Have you found yourself a wife yet?”

  “Shackle myself to one woman? I have more sense than that.”

  He tried to laugh it off, but I knew that he longed to have a family. It would be hard, in Judea, where most of my people would rather starve than give their daughters to Gentiles.

  “God has someone for you, Viriato. Someone who will not feel like a shackle, but be a great blessing to your life. Wait on the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

  “I could say as much to you.”

  Viriato’s visit was like a breath of air, bringing me new strength and encouragement. After he left, I decided to try another physician. I had given up on them when the third one gave me a concoction that made me vomit for three days straight. He had the nerve to charge me the equal of a month’s wages for that cure, even though it made no shadow of a difference in my condition.

  I sent Keziah to purchase a fat roll of parchment; I had decided to write down an account of my life. It kept me occupied for days on end. To my surprise, describing these events brought a measure of relief. The parchment bore the weight of every sorrow with uncritical impartiality. The pen became my friend.

  With some trepidation, I asked Chuza to find me another physician. Most physicians mixed the spiritual realm with their physical treatments and thought nothing of handing the patient a bowl of medicine dedicated to some foreign god or blessed by a magical incantation. They demanded libations to this idol and the worship of another.

  I could have none of that. The Law forbade God’s people from seeking the help of mediums or witches. Turning to any form of idolatry was also considered a grave sin. The Lord condemned the practice of magic under any circumstance; there was no such thing as good magic.

  A few physicians chose to focus on herbal remedies and surgical means, however. Their curative powers relied solely on the physical realm. These I could consult. Sometimes I had to travel a long way to find one. To my relief, Chuza managed to locate a healer famed for producing good results, right in Tiberias. He had been summoned to attend Herod’s wife, who suffered from a stomach disease.

  Sira had been trained in Greece and had taken, according to him, an oath to ensure ethical treatment of his patients.

  “What does this oath contain?” I asked.

  “Amongst other things, I have promised that the sick under my care will suffer no hurt or damage, that I will comport myself and use my knowledge in a godly manner, and that my visit shall be for the convenience and advantage of the patient.”

  I gave a wan smile. “Then you are welcome in my home.”

  It turned out that Sira’s ethics came at a steep price. I paid the money and prayed that healing would come my way.

  “Do not fret,” he said to me when I described all the previous treatments that had produced no results. “I have many remedies for your condition. If one doesn’t work, we shall try another.”

  Impressed by the breadth of his knowledge and his obvious confidence, I put my trust in him. He made up my first remedy from a mixture of gum of Alexandria, alum, and a special crocus, famed for its healing powers. Sira bruised and pounded these together in a mortar, creating a dense paste the size of a silver coin. This concoction he then dissolved in wine and gave to me. I had tasted worse.

  For one week, I drank a fresh preparation of this remedy and waited to see if it would take effect.

  Joanna came to visit me one morning during this trial period. I noticed she glowed with a new happiness. “I am going to have a baby,” she told me before she had time to sit down. Never had I been so frustrated with the limitations of my condition. I could not hug her or hold her as I wished.

  “May the Lord be praised!” I cried. “I am so happy for you, little sister. Is Chuza beside himself?”

  “His feet have not touched the ground in two days.”

  “And his parents? They must be well pleased.”

  “His mother won’t stop crowing about her son’s virility. I cannot fault her for that, since it is my wonderful husband she praises.”

  “I wish I could be of some practical help, Joanna. Do you think if I wove some linen and wool garments, and Keziah washed them with ritual care, Chuza’s mother would allow you to use them for the baby?”

  Joanna s
hrugged her shoulders. “I care not what she thinks. My baby will wear whatever his talented aunt decides to make for him. Did you bring any dyes with you from home?”

  “A few samples—sufficient for the needs of a new babe. We can bleach a few pieces white and I have blue dye and a bit of Lydia’s purple left.”

  Joanna clapped her hands. “Marvelous. I shall have the best-dressed child in all of Judea.”

  Sira’s first remedy proved ineffective. But at least it made me no sicker than I had been before we started. The next treatment was made up of Persian onions. Sira was very precise about the amounts of each substance he used. “Nine logs. No more, no less,” he said to me as he measured onions and wine with care. For several hours, he allowed the onions to boil in wine over a low flame.

  When I had finished drinking a full cup, he said, “Arise from thy flux.”

  I arose, but the flux continued. He made me drink the onion-soaked wine three times each day for a whole week, to no avail.

  For some months now, I had felt pain and discomfort in my belly. Cramps would often assail me. They were not so powerful that I was overcome by the agony. But I found that even moderate pain, when it comes against the body hour after hour, week after week, leeches the strength out of the bones. I grew weaker with each passing day.

  The constant bleeding did not help. Sira prescribed more meat in my diet to give me extra nourishment. Whatever nourishment I took with my food, however, I seemed to lose immediately to the hemorrhaging of my womb.

  A new worry added to my physical discomfort. Joanna had not been to see me for four days, which was unusual. I assumed that her condition had made her feel too ill to come abroad. I sent Keziah to inquire after her welfare.

  “They wouldn’t let me see her, mistress,” she said when she returned, huffing from her speedy walk. “They would not even let me through the doors, but kept me waiting in the courtyard like a stray dog.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Turn to me and be gracious to me,

  for I am lonely and afflicted.

  The troubles of my heart are enlarged;

  bring me out of my distresses.

  Consider my affliction and my trouble,

  and forgive all my sins.

  PSALM 25:16-18

  MY HEART SANK. I suspected that they wished to guard Joanna and the babe she carried from being exposed to my ailment. I could not blame them for wanting to protect my sister from harm, nor would I interfere in that intention. How severe life was going to seem, deprived of my sister’s company for all the months of her pregnancy. The thought of it made me turn cold with dread. I would find my days excruciatingly lonely without her.

  I remembered a passage I had read in Gamaliel’s parchments not two days before:

  Bless the Lord, O my soul,

  and all that is within me,

  bless his holy name!

  Bless the Lord, O my soul,

  and forget not all his benefits,

  who forgives all your iniquity,

  who heals all your diseases,

  who redeems your life from the pit,

  who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

  who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

  These were mere words to me. As yet, they held no substance. No truth. No comfort. How could God forgive my iniquity? He certainly had not chosen to heal my disease or redeem my life from the pit.

  For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I could ever learn to bless the Lord in the way King David intended. To trust in him. Though he smite me, to cling to him and believe in his goodness. To rest in him though weariness overwhelmed me. If I could learn the secret of such a faith, then even if I lost Joanna’s companionship, I could hold on to God and know his encompassing peace.

  The next day, a note arrived from Chuza. I collapsed on my cushion when I read the contents.

  Joanna had lost her baby.

  He did not say so in the letter, of course, but I knew that his family blamed me for the loss. The curse of my illness had somehow caused Joanna to miscarry the babe.

  I wept bitterly for the first time in months, knowing how keenly Joanna would feel this loss. I was impotent to bring her the smallest measure of comfort while bound by my own illness. From that time, Chuza’s mother forbade my sister to set foot inside my house. Her animosity made me more determined to find a cure.

  Sira’s next remedy required that I walk outside the city and stand at a crossroads. He would not tell me what I was to do there. We left at noon, when the heat drove most people indoors. Sira had chosen a specific spot, though I did not know the significance of it. At the intersection of two small roads, both unfamiliar to me, he came to a halt.

  “Stand here,” he said, pointing at the center of the road. Thankfully, there were no animals or pedestrians in the way. I took my place where he indicated. He took out a wooden chalice from his sack and filled it with wine.

  Handing me the chalice, he commanded, “Drink.” I took a sip. It tasted like normal wine. “Now look at me,” he demanded. So I looked up. He had an intense expression that I found perplexing.

  Before I could ask what we were meant to do next, a huge man rammed into me from behind, screaming incomprehensible words. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I had never had such a fright in my life. Shrieking, I pulled away from the man’s bruising force and threw myself at Sira. I thought perhaps some monstrous demon had struck me. When I turned around, I saw that my attacker was a normal man, large and prepossessing in size, but clean and neat and apparently in his right mind.

  In a nasal voice, he said, “Arise from thy flux.”

  “What?” I cried, before collapsing on the ground, shivering from reaction.

  Sira squatted in front of me. “The fright was part of the treatment. We believe that the body releases healing humors when a great fear comes upon a patient. How do you feel?”

  “How do I feel?” I stuttered, wanting to give him a fright of my own. “I feel like my legs have turned into feather pillows. You are a crazy man, you realize? I suppose you will charge me extra for this particular cure.”

  “As a matter of fact, that is true. I have to pay Samuel, you see.”

  I was frightened, all right. But I was not healed. Thankfully, Sira did not repeat that particular remedy for a whole week.

  The following week there was another unexpected knock on our door. When Keziah, who promised she did not know who stood on the other side this time, opened it, we found Joanna. She appeared listless and wan.

  “Joanna!” I leapt to my feet and ran to her, careful not to touch her with the merest whisper of my skin. “What is it? Has something happened?”

  “I missed my sister. I have come to visit.”

  “Has your mother-in-law lifted her ban?”

  Joanna shrugged. “She banned me from setting foot inside your house. I have not placed a single dainty slipper over this threshold, have I?”

  I laughed. “I hope you will not get yourself into trouble with your husband’s family on my account.”

  “I could not bear to stay away longer, Elianna. I am so sad, and you know how to cheer me.”

  I exhaled. “I am sorry, my love. I am sorry you lost your precious babe. I am praying that God will give you another quickly.”

  She nodded and gave a watery smile. “Is there no stool in your house that we can set outside the door here while we talk? I cannot stand for a whole hour.”

  For several days, this became our habit. Joanna would come and sit outside my door, and we would talk. Sometimes we spoke of ordinary things, and sometimes we talked about the heartaches in our lives. We held on to each other with love, with compassion, with pity. We had nothing practical to offer one another. The poultice of love proved enough. Our aches were deep, but love was deeper. In time, hope emerged victorious over our fears.

  “When does Sira give you his next potion?” Joanna asked on a hot afternoon.

  My shoulders slump
ed. “He has sent a letter to inform me that he had to leave for Ephesus on urgent family business. He won’t return until next year.”

  “Oh no!”

  “He has sent me a long dietary list. Things I am to eat and those I should avoid for the next few months. He assures me that good diet alone might provide a cure.”

  “And if not?”

  “He says there are still a few things we can try upon his return, and I am not to give in to despair.”

  “I like this Sira. He sounds like a good man.”

  I shrugged. “For a physician.”

  We giggled. It was good to laugh at the absurdities of our lives.

  “Is this a private feast or can anyone join in?”

  “Husband!” Joanna gasped. From the spreading red stain on her cheeks, I guessed she had never told Chuza how she spent her afternoons.

  “I wondered where my wife had disappeared to again. I guessed this would be a likely spot.”

  “I never went inside the house, as you see. I kept my promise.” Joanna’s voice trembled. I realized that in spite of her apparent disregard for her mother-in-law’s wishes, she felt apprehensive about defying her command.

  “I am sorry, Chuza,” I said. “I am at fault. I should have sent her home when she first came. It was selfish of me to encourage her.”

  Chuza rubbed his chest with an agitated hand. “Peace. It would be cruel to come between two sisters who love one another so deeply. I do not demand such a sacrifice. My mother, now—she is another matter.”

  Joanna reached for Chuza’s hand. “You won’t tell her?”

  “Of course not, Joanna. I know my mother intends the best. That does not mean she is always right. I saw how unhappy you were when you lost our babe. Then you started to smile again and be my old Joanna. That’s when I began to suspect that you might be visiting Elianna. She is good medicine to your soul, whatever my mother might believe.” He wrapped his arm around Joanna’s shoulders. “Have you another stool for your brother, Elianna?”

  He did not even ask if the stool Keziah fetched was unclean. How blessed we were the day Chuza married my sister. “Tell us news of the palace,” I said, happy for new company.