Poisoned Honey: A Story of Mary Magdalene (9 page)

Although Alexandros had refused to take my vision of Miryam seriously, I chose to believe that he’d granted me the forty days I’d asked for. In any case, I hoped it would take him at least forty days to arrange a betrothal.

I wasn’t sure how to go about seeking a sign from heaven, but I had the impression that praying and fasting might help me recognize it. So I kept a regular time for prayer. I fasted during the day, eating sparingly only before dawn and after sunset.

But it wasn’t easy to stay alert for a special sign. There was so much coming and going in the compound, and I didn’t want to ask Imma or Safta or Chloe to do my share of the chores. When I sought out a quiet corner for prayer, my
grandmother and sister tried not to disturb me. But my mother made it clear that she thought I was behaving in an odd and rather selfish way.

Alexandros seemed very busy at the sardine-packing works—too busy, I assumed, to arrange a new marriage for me. I went to talk to him one evening, thinking he was alone on the roof. I intended to ask his permission to visit my aunt in Arbel for a month of peace.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I realized that Imma and Uncle Reuben were with Alexandros. Pausing in the shadows, I listened to a whispered argument. I couldn’t make out what they were discussing, but my name was mentioned over and over.

The next day, my mother took me aside. I had a bad feeling even before she spoke, and I burst out, “They haven’t chosen a husband for me already, have they? Alexandros might at least have honored my request for more time!”

Imma frowned and folded her arms, as if to say she was not to blame. “I did remind them that you had some idea of waiting to discern something. But the men judged that it would seem ungrateful not to accept such a good offer at once.”

Distressed at the idea of having to drop my search for a sign, it took me a moment to sense that there was more bad
news. I stared at my mother. “Who is it?” She hesitated, and I exclaimed, “Not Eleazar bar Yohannes!”

“It was a
very
good offer,” she said.

“No!” I exclaimed. “How could Uncle Reuben …? How could Alexandros …?” They knew I’d asked Abba to refuse the old man’s offer the first time. “Doesn’t my brother care how I feel?”

My mother didn’t answer my questions. “Mariamne,” she said, “I had my heart set on Nicolaos for you; that was such a happy match. But that’s water under the bridge. Now your father’s gone, Nicolaos is gone, and everything’s different.”

“I know it’s different! It’s dreadful. Why do they want to make it even worse for me?”

“Hush, Mariamne!” Imma’s eyes flashed. “It’s time you grew up. Life isn’t all honey cakes and jasmine for any of us. Think, for a moment, what the fever did to the rest of us, not just you.” She spoke faster and faster, her words pouring out. “Think about Alexandros: young as he is, he has to take on the burden of being the man of the family. Think about Uncle Reuben: he’s lost not only his brother but also his business partner. Our business isn’t doing well—many of the workers caught the fever, and several of them died. On top of that, the household taxes will be due soon!” She paused, then added in a low tone, “And I … I am … a widow.”

My mother hardly ever cried, but now tears shone in her eyes. I was shocked and ashamed. “I’m sorry, Imma.”

“True, this new marriage isn’t what you expected,” she went on, blotting her tears quickly with her sleeve. “But your uncle and your brother are using their best judgment. Eleazar is a respected member of the synagogue. And your brother agreed to provide you with a generous bride-gift; I insisted on that.”

“A generous bride-gift?” Forgetting about being unselfish, I snorted. How would a bride-gift make up for being married to an old man?

“Try to think about what’s best for the whole family.” My mother’s tone turned stern again. “After you’re betrothed to Eleazar, you see, Eleazar will sell only our sardines. He’s the supplier for Herod Antipas’s palace in Tiberias, as well as for Herod’s troops.”

“Sardines,” I repeated.

My mother ignored that remark. “You’re not the only one who needs to marry, you know. Chloe will be of age in a year or so, and she’ll have no chance for a good match if our business fails. And even more important, your brother needs to marry well.”

Ah yes, I thought. Alexandros, even more important.

“If you’re betrothed to Eleazar,” Imma explained, “then
Eleazar’s cousin Thomas—Thomas the Elder; you’ve seen him in the synagogue—will allow Alexandros to marry
his
daughter Sarah. That’ll be an excellent connection for our family. Of course, the girl’s only twelve, but they can be betrothed now, and we’ll have her come to live with us until she’s of age.”

As my mother talked, I realized that there was something much more at stake than whether I liked Alexandros’s choice of a husband for me. “Imma, all this doesn’t matter. What I really need is time to seek a sign—to meditate on the meaning of the prophet Miryam’s words to me.”

Imma sighed and pressed her lips together. “Back to what you imagined in the
mikvah?
Don’t you see it’s time to give up on that?” She put her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes. I was surprised to realize that we were now the same height. “You
must
do your part, Mari! I’m afraid your father-may he rest in peace, the good man—indulged you.”

“My father was a righteous man!” I retorted. “He would not force me to marry against my will.” Desperately I wished for Miryam to appear to my mother, right then. Why didn’t the prophet help me if she expected me to follow such a hard path? I exclaimed, “I will not do it. Hang a millstone around my neck and throw me into the lake if you like—I will not marry Eleazar bar Yohannes.”

“Selfish, selfish daughter!” My mother tightened her grip on my shoulders, as if to shake me. Then, throwing up her hands, she walked away.

Imma must have told Chloe what I’d said, because a little while later my sister came and sat down beside me. “I don’t blame you, Mari,” she said. “It would be better for the whole family to starve than for you to marry unwillingly.”

I glanced sideways at her. Was she being sarcastic? No, my sister didn’t know how to be sarcastic. “No one is going to starve,” I said uncomfortably. Did Chloe realize that her own marriage depended on mine? If she did, she didn’t mention it.

At least my grandmother would understand my point of view, I thought, even if she had no influence over my uncle and brother. I went to Safta and told her about meeting Miryam in the
mikvah
. I thought it would bring my vision back afresh, but to my dismay, it now sounded to my ears like something I’d made up.

Safta listened with a wondering smile. “What a marvelous story, my dear! I must remember that one. I never thought of meeting Miryam in the
mikvah
, but yes—it makes perfect sense.”

“But what about the mission Miryam spoke of?” I pleaded. “Shouldn’t I try to understand what she meant?”

“Oh yes … let’s think about this together,” agreed my grandmother. “A ‘steep, rocky way,’ Miryam said to you? Requiring ‘great courage’? Do you know what that reminds me of, Mari dear? It makes me think of the story of Queen Esther.”

By the end of the day, I felt confused and miserable. As I lighted the lamps, Alexandros appeared at my side. Of course, Imma had told him my answer, too, and he wouldn’t be as sympathetic as Chloe or Safta. I returned his greeting, but I kept my eyes on the lamp wicks.

“Mari,” said Alexandros. “I don’t know what to do.” His tone of voice was reasonable, and I turned to look at him. “When Abba was dying,” he went on, “he told me to take care of the family. And I promised him, as was my duty. But now I can’t fulfill my promise.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Abba left you the sardine business. Aren’t there still sardines in the lake, and people waiting to eat them?”

Alexandros shook his head. “That’s not the point. Abba left us … in debt. He didn’t even tell Uncle Reuben how much he was borrowing. If you’d married Nicolaos, his family would have paid what we owed. But now, just to pay Herod’s taxes, we’ll have to sell this house that our grandfather built. We’ll have to move into rooms above the packinghouse.”

This was a shocking thought. “Poor Safta!” I exclaimed. Our grandmother loved her well-made stone house. She had ornamented it with fine pillows and hangings that she’d woven and stitched, and she kept the house fragrant with sweet herbs. I shrank from the thought of her in the ugly, smelly packinghouse.

Besides, how could she bear the shame? It had broken her heart to see her favorite son die. To know that he hadn’t provided for her after all would kill her. “No … that mustn’t happen.”

“We’ll have to give up our seats in the synagogue,” my brother went on. “We’ll have to let the servants go.” A note of impatience came into his voice. “You must see the wisdom of my choice for you? This marriage will save everything. It will save the honor of the family.”

I remembered something Imma had said, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Aren’t you going to mention the fine marriage Eleazar promised you, to his cousin Thomas’s daughter?”

“That’s only as it should be!” exclaimed Alexandros. “You seem to forget who I am: the firstborn, the only son, the head of the family.”

My heart hardened and blasphemous thoughts entered it. Why not just send me to the Temple in Jerusalem and let me be sacrificed with the lambs and the doves? It amounted to the same thing. “No! Never!”

Alexandros’s face hardened, too. He stalked away, muttering, “Foolish to think she would listen.”

No one spoke much during the evening meal, and I felt that they were all trying not to look at me. Afterward, when I carried the leftovers down to the kitchen, Yael was waiting for me. She took the pot from me and set it aside. “Wait, Miss Mari.” She seized my hand and kissed it. “Have pity on me!”

“What in the world is the matter?” I tried to pull my hand away.

“Oh, young mistress, if this family falls upon bad times, I’ll be turned out into the street! What will become of me?” A sob burst out of her mouth with the words. “It was only by your father’s kindness that I escaped the brothels.” She sobbed more violently. “I swear, I’ll hang a millstone around my neck first, and throw myself into the lake!”

That was almost exactly what I’d said to Imma. But I’d worked myself up into a frenzy, trying to sound even more desperate than I was. Yael truly meant what she said. Imagining her trudging into the lake with her millstone, I felt a queasy dread.

“Please, leave me alone.” I pulled away my hand, which was wet with Yael’s tears, and wiped it on my tunic.

That night, I lay on my bed in a strange state of mind. I
don’t know whether I was dreaming or awake, or somewhere in between. I was gazing at the dark sky, where one star shone brighter and brighter as it neared me.

Behold Queen Esther, the star
.

I smelled perfume, and I heard the rustle of silk. Then a young woman stood before me, dressed in a foreign style. Her robes were stiff with embroidery, encrusted with gold ornaments. Her earrings were woven from gold wire and hung with tiny gold bells, and she wore a gold crown on her oiled curls.

Mariamne
, she said.
Mariamne, you know my story. I, too, was afraid of marriage to an older stranger—I, too, shrank from my destiny—but I chose to save my people. Think of
your
people, Mariamne. You can save your people, too
.

The vision of Queen Esther faded, but her message sank in. There was no longer any mystery about what I should do next, or why. This must truly be the rocky path intended for me: to become a heroine like Esther.

Eleazar was eager to marry as soon as possible, and I was almost fourteen. So my family agreed that the wedding could take place after a thirty-day mourning period for my father, instead of our waiting the usual year after a parent’s death. They applied to the council of the synagogue, and (with
Elder Thomas’s influence) an exception was made. Also, my family agreed to skip the preliminary meeting and go straight to the betrothal.

When Eleazar entered our courtyard with his family, my heart sank. But I tried not to show my feelings, partly because I felt sorry for him. He seemed in high spirits as he exchanged courtesies with Alexandros and Uncle Reuben. I thought it would be cruel to let him see I was unwilling. I told myself, “You can see he’s pleased with you. Surely he’ll be a kind husband, and what more could you expect?”

As Eleazar and I drank from the same cup, I kept my eyes cast down. I tried not to remember Nicolaos’s clear eyes and sweet breath, and especially not the disturbing, delightful glow that Nicolaos had caused in me. Eleazar still had most of his teeth, unlike many old men. True, his eyelids reminded me of a lizard’s. His tongue flicked out like a lizard’s, too, at the end of every other sentence.

After the ceremony, I was presented to Eleazar’s various relatives, including his important cousin, Elder Thomas; his unimportant half brother, Hiram, who lived with his wife and children in Eleazar’s compound; and his widowed daughter-in-law, Chava, who was also Eleazar’s housekeeper. Chava gave me the expected kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to our family, Mariamne,” she said without smiling.

After the guests had left, I sat down beside my grandmother and leaned my head against hers. “Oh, Safta! I’m confused…. It doesn’t seem right.”

“I know.” There was an odd tone in her voice, almost as if she were talking in her sleep, and I pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were fixed on the livestock shed across the courtyard. “Your father is absolutely against this match. For one thing, no good will come of the business connection with Herod Antipas’s city, Tiberias.”

“You mean my father
was
against this match,” I corrected her gently. “Did Abba tell you he didn’t want me to marry Eleazar?” I thought she meant that my father had discussed the matter with her the previous year.

“Oh yes.” Safta nodded several times. “Only this morning, he came to me as I was picking over the lentils.”

The back of my neck tingled, and I stared at my grandmother. “You saw him … today?”