The Magdalen

After the worst of the day’s heat, Johannan took Joshuah aside. “I had a dream last night. My time is exceeding short. I want you to take Miriam away from here now . . . to your home. It is near Bethlehem, you said. So if you leave now, you can easily reach it this night.” “Yes.” “I do not need to tell you that if the soldiers of Antipas were to discover Miriam to be a woman when they come for me, and posing as the boy Merovee, she would be handled without mercy. Chandreah has agreed to go with you. We settled on a story. In my newfound freedom, I have developed an insatiable thirst for some of the good wine which you have told me you have in your cellar. Additionally, I want some good fruit, and nuts from my own Samaria, which can be got in the bazaar of Bethlehem. Naturally, Miriam would not trust a man to make these selections, nor even trust Chandreah not to lose himself in your cellar and forget to return. “Chandreah will have spoken to her by now. It will be no surprise when you suggest setting off immediately, so that the provisions may be gotten in the morning and the return journey made after the midday heat tomorrow. Once you have her away, it will be up to the two of you to find convincing reasons to delay that return. Keep her until word comes that I have been taken. It might even be tonight.” “You have thought of everything. Except her habit of knowing the thoughts of others and peering into the future.” “I have not forgotten. Lock her up if necessary. Do what you will. But keep her safe.” He spoke these last words with difficulty, and turned his face away. “I will try to do as you say,” said Joshuah gently. Johannan took his hand. “She is the best of them, Josh. My most beloved disciple. And . . . my beloved. Though she knows it not. Cherish her. She is our sister in Spirit, and will learn quickly. I send her with you not only for her safety, but because you will have need of her. When her wrath against you dies, she will love you and succor you and fill the lonely places you will find along the way. In a manner that is hers alone.” “I shall cherish her as yourself.” “My eternal thanks. Beyond that, between you and me, there is nothing more that must be said.” “Not if you are decided to yield to Antipas.” “For me, all is accomplished, and I am very tired. May all your futures be joyful, my dear friend.” “May you return as a great tree, just for a rest.” Johannan laughed. Then his face straightened. “There is one question. Have your ever thought . . . that there is yet another one?” “A third major part of us. Yes. I have entered his thoughts in the dream state. I am not sure I like him. He does not yield. Like the toughest of bread, he will need to be well chewed before being swallowed by even the most hungry.” “It is a man, then. I sensed the third, but could not get an image. I had often wondered if the third might even be Miriam, herself.” “In another era. If the present parameters of belief among us Jews will hardly countenance a female as follower, how then could she be accepted by our people as a teacher?” “You are right, of course. You have climbed onto a higher peak than my own, and so see further into the distances.” Johannan rose. “Come, then, my other part. I have tried to make the way straight for you. Let me now see your foot set upon that path.” ***** Merovee had no objections to the journey. Indeed, stores were getting low. She needed provisions for the making of bread, and it was the season for melons—and peaches. Not grapes. Too early for the good ones. But she would get cheeses. And grains for soups . . . it was well that Chandreah was coming, they would probably need a donkey to carry it all back. She had dug up her money belt from under its rock. The wine would, of course, be a gift from Joshuah, but the few coins that Johannan had given her would hardly, she knew, buy the nuts which he desired. Poor Johannan had been living in one wilderness or another for so long that he did not realize how prices had risen. So Merovee took her leave from Johannan with an abstracted little smile and hardly a backward glance. She gave the two men no cause for complaint, girding her loins—tucking the flowing folds of her garment up into her gird to allow free movement of the legs—and striding purposefully along the narrow and dusty shepherds’ paths that led to Bethlehem. She even set the pace, for the paths climbed steadily into the mountains. The welcome cool of darkness would be on them soon enough, but she had no mind to be traveling all night long. It was close to the full moon, which would make the going easier . . . and she was almost out of her balm, would they have it in the bazaar at Bethlehem? Yet, there were hours to be passed, and one might as well use them. “Master . . . ” “Only Joshuah, please, Merovee.” “When you multiplied your fishes . . . where did you go in your head?” “But what is this?” said Chandreah. “Do you seek this man's powers, Merovee?” “No. I seek my own.” “But power like that is not for such as you.” “I do hope,” she said archly, “that you really meant to say such as us, Chandreah. Or do you mean that, because I am a woman, I must not presume?” Chandreah shook his head and gave no answer. “Perhaps,” said Joshuah, “Chandreah is not sure what he means.” Chandreah nodded. “You have put it the best.” “Let me tell you a story as we go,” said Joshuah. “Once, a very long time ago, a king and a queen ruled over a beautiful land. They ruled equally and with justice, and the people were very happy. But the queen was exceedingly lovely, which made the people adore her, and she was exceedingly wise, so that they sought her counsel as much as that of the king. “And the king had a brother who had nothing to rule for himself, and, since he had never bothered to learn a trade, he sat around the palace examining his thumbs and thinking of mischief which would keep him from remembering what an empty fellow he was. This brother grew jealous of the queen, and begin to whisper in the ear of the king that the people loved the queen better than the king, and that she grew too much in power by virtue of her goodness, and that soon she would take all the power and lord it over the king, and that the justice and equality for which they were famed would no longer be the mark of their reign. “Though he should have known better, the king soon began to believe this spiteful brother and to be jealous of his queen. The more beautiful she became, the more he resented it. The wiser she grew, the more threatened he felt. The happier were the people, the more he saw it as a sign that soon the queen would take everything for herself. “The idle brother then proposed that, instead of the queen, he, himself, should rule with the king. Indeed, he said, in order to preserve the justice and equality for which the kingdom was famed, women should never ever be allowed to rule again. “And the king agreed that this was a wonderful plan. “The brother then proposed that they simply kill the queen. Here, the king refused. He was fond of his queen, and, since she was beautiful, he liked to look at her. So it was agreed that she would simply be put into eternal sleep. “A magician was looked for, one who could brew a proper potion. But all the magicians were out performing tricks for the people that day. So an old sorceress was found, and brought to the palace. The king explained what he wanted . . . a potion to put his queen into peaceful sleep forever. And the sorceress complied. “Except that, being a woman, she did it her own way. Unbeknownst to the king, she administered a potion which would keep the queen in sleep only until a man as wise as herself kissed her and bade her wake. “Well, years passed. The foolish king and the spiteful brother ruled, and beauty was gone from the land, and wisdom and goodness.