Youre going to jail, he snarled, motioning for the guards to remove the oily thief. I took a step backward as the old man staggered to his feet, his forehead smeared with blood. He fell against Manaen, who steadied the frail body. I took another step back. I could hear the voices of the women praying in their separate court. They were closer than before.
An energetic father and his little boy cut across my path, dragging their goat toward the butchers stone inside the mens court. Their lips moved in exact harmony as they recited the blessing. I took another step back to give them room.
Wait there, Manaen ordered me, maneuvering around the goat without taking his eyes off me.
A barefoot priest spattered with blood hurried across the plaza. In his rush toward the sanctuary he kicked a jar of oil that someone had left behind. It frightened a young boy, who dropped his lighted candle. The flame ignited the oil.
People scattered.
I ran to the end of the wide courtyard and all but threw myself into the womens quarters. Men were forbidden from entering, and Manaen could not reach me there. Veiled heads turned toward me to see who was disrupting the prayers. I kept my face hidden and made my way to the back. I began to follow the other womens movements. They were like dancers, bowing low, reaching toward the heavens.
Could prayer heal me? I wondered.
The scent of sandalwood filled my nose and made me light-headed. A tickle in my throat refused to be stilled. I breathed evenly, trying to calm myself. Slowly my insides settled. The voices of the women near me, chanting their prayer, lulled me as if I were an infant falling sleep.
More at peace than I had been in some time, I relaxed and listened. It was then that I heard a distinct voice. It was huge and loud enough to shake the temple walls, yet it felt very close. I wondered if it came from somewhere inside me. I heard my name. Joanna.
I searched the sky for thunderheads, but only white clouds drifted by.
The echoing voice filled me like the sound of a ringing bell. Some force, more enormous than Mount Horeb, called to me again.
Joanna.
God of my ancestors, I said. I cant explain how I knew who it was.
Help me! I cried. I dont want to die.
Two thick hands clamped onto my shoulders. The women had finished their prayers and emptied the courtyard without my noticing. Manaen was standing beside me, prodding me toward the main courtyard. Glaring, he pressed his fingers into my arm and directed me quickly out of the place forbidden to all men. His embarrassment made him even angrier.
You put yourself and my men in danger. He clenched his teeth so tightly they should have splintered.
I had to see for myself. You wouldnt have agreed to it.
This isnt a contest of wills, he shouted. I cant protect you unless you follow the rules.
His shoulders slowly fell back to their usual position. When your husband finds out, he will not like this.
CHAPTER FOUR
His mother saiddo whatever he tells you.
John 2:5
Crumpled on my bed, alone and confused, I sank into a dreamy sleep. From a place near the window, a narrow figure of a man came toward me. He was carrying a physicians box. One of Chuzas doctors, I supposed. Rolling back the sleeve of his robe, he uncovered his long fingers and pressed them against my cheek. The warm impression lingered, like a blessing. He placed his hand upon me, a hand so large it formed a collar around my throat. His touch freed my labored breathing. I thought I knew him but could not recall where we met. Opening my eyes, I expected to see him beside me. He was gone.
Chuza, I called, drowsiness weighting my voice. I went from room to room searching for my husband, until I realized it was midday and he was not at home. Octavia prepared a bath with chamomile, where I steeped until I heard him coming along the hall. His thick leather sandals padded his heavy steps. Dressing quickly I met him as he entered my rooms.
Manaen told me what happened this morning, he said. He was stern and unapproachable.
We got separated at the temple.
Separated? You ran away from him. Joanna, you knew it was dangerous.
Something happened to me, Chuza.
You could have caused a riot. You put my men in danger.
Leaning against the window behind me, I moved my fingers along the sill like a blind woman feeling her way.
I wanted to pray.
You promised to stay with Manaen.
I knew I was safe.
Joanna.
Chuzas disappointment melted my confidence.
What will Pilate say? he murmured. And of course Antipas will hear all about it, if he hasnt already.
Someone called my name. I heard a voice.
Manaen is one of our best men. He could have been slaughtered by that crowd.
The sound of a heavy object dropping on a hard surface came from the next room. Chuza hurtled in that direction. There was Octavia, sitting at my writing table, cleaning ink bottles and pens.
You can go, I said. She hurried away without trying to explain herself.
I forgot she was here, I said. I trust Octavia, she is very loyal.
My husband looked out at the tile roof across the courtyard that sheltered the rooms where Antipas stayed when he was in Jerusalem. On the rise of the next hill was Pilates villa. Chuzas reputation, his honor, depended on their certainty that he was a strong leader. I saw my actions through his eyes. They were inexcusable, yet I tried once more to explain.
God called my name this morning, I said.
No one will believe that, Chuza answered. God is a social obligation, not someone who talks to people.
We dont have to tell anyone.
After the spectacle you made of yourself this morning? Everyone in Jerusalem knows. Chuzas short thick hands flying in the air above his head told me he was as angry as I had ever seen him.
Maybe no one will mention it, I whimpered, hoping to win his forgiveness.
Thats what spies are for.
I was not helping matters, and Chuza was not really listening.
I have to lie down, I said. My husband left me.
Of all the plans that came to me when I was alone, only one brought comfort. I called Octavia and asked her to find Phineas, my driver. He entered my sitting room, bowing slightly.
Go to Nazareth in the morning, I instructed him. It was a long trip. He would be gone at least seven days, yet my good servant did not flinch.
Tell no one here where you are going. When you reach Nazareth, find the healers mother and ask if I might visit her twelve days from now. I took a small stone jar of rose water from my dressing table and gave it to him as a gift for her.
The next day Pilate and his wife invited us to the governors palace to celebrate the end of the Jewish festival. Chuza escorted me to the womens quarters on his way to join the men. Of all the women at court, Pilates wife, Claudia Procula, was the only one I ever much liked. For some reason she took to me, as well. I suppose it was that we could talk for hours about our astrologers and the excitement of luck and chance.
I believed that wonder-workers were my best hope for an end to my illness. It was a matter of stumbling upon the right one. As for Procula, the pressures of her husbands high rank gave her endless reasons to seek the advice of the soothsayers.