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.
In her airy apartment on the second floor of the palace, Procula bounced from guest to guest. For such a large woman she was unusually light on her feet, balancing wide, rolling curves of flesh above her small, dainty shoes. She fussed over us, passing bowls of plump raisins and braided bread flavored with almonds. I recognized it, a family recipe from home. Cordoba, was it? Id never been to a party at the governors palace that did not include almond bread.
As I crossed the room I began to notice that the other women were watching. When I passed the dessert table three of them covered their faces to hide their laughter. I knew it was at my expense.
An older woman sat alone in the corner nodding to the sounds of a harp. I passed her by, and she opened her eyes doubly wide to make certain I noticed before she turned away. I folded myself into the nearest couch, a shining thing of red-and-gold stripes. Procula came bubbling in my direction.
Joanna, she said, my dear friend.
I smiled, straining to understand my hostess, who delivered every sentence with trills and coos. Ive been waiting for you. She stretched out her hands but quickly drew them back in a strange half greeting. I had long since learned to accept such behavior without reacting. There are people who refuse to be in the same room with any who have suffered from consumption. Some doctors wont treat us for fear they will fall ill.
Tell me everything, she urged me. Ive been waiting.
My face burst into a moist heat. There is nothing to tell you, really, I began, dabbing my throat with a handkerchief. My illness sometimes filled me with flashes of inner fire that caused this embarrassing wet condition.
The whole room seemed to be watching us. Some of the devout women among us had probably been there at the womens court and witnessed my humiliating departure. Procula was the only one bold enough to ask.
I wish I had the pluck to do what you did this morning, she said, delighted with me. Im always trying to find ways to attract handsome men. To have Manaen rescue me! What was it like?
I dont know how to describe it, I said. My hostess was a woman who fed on gossip and scandal. I was not about to offer myself as her next meal.
Dont be shy, she coaxed. My astrologer already told me. Her eyes grew as wide as orbs. His Magnificence, Lord Darius, predicted it. A woman from the north, someone I knew, would come to Jerusalem. And a god would abduct her. In her excitement she spoke faster. When I heard about your adventure at the Jewish temple, I knew you had to be the one.
No, it wasnt like that, I answered, trying to quiet her. I may have heard a voice, that was all.
Of course you did, she interrupted. Dear Joanna. The God of the Jews is very powerful. What did he say? He must have told you something.
Silent and smiling, I looked at her but did not reply. At last she seemed to understand that I was not going to say any more about it. Blinking her eyes, she reached for a plate of spice cakes and sank her sharp little teeth into one. I must have let out a sigh as I settled into the couch.
She leaned toward me again. I know youve been in frail health, Joanna. I hope you dont mind my saying so.
Her honesty did surprise me. No one mentions anothers illness in public.
I know a Greek in Jerusalem, she said. He uses fish oil to treat all sorts of problems. It must taste dreadful, but Ive seen results. I could introduce you.
That is very kind. I did not want to offend her by refusing her twice in one afternoon.
Apollo. Have you heard of him? She lowered her thick, round eyelashes to suggest a secret. I used to suffer terrible sleeplessness, she said. He gave me this charm that I wear all the time. Opening the waistline of her dress, she showed me a glass vile filled with specks of what looked like bone, tied on a cord stretched tight around her waist.
I thought of Mary and how she promised to speak to her son for me. There is a man in Galilee, I said. He heals even incurable ailments. His mother is my cousin.
Maybe I should meet him. Procula moved closer. For gossips sake she was willing to compromise her safe distance.
I havent actually met him, myself, I said. Not yet.
What is his name? She was sitting right beside me.
Jesus.
She frowned. I thought I knew everyone. Ive never heard of him.
He lives in Capernaum and keeps to the northern towns, I said. He has been working miracles for some months. Crowds of people follow him, but he is not yet well known outside of Galilee. When the time comes I will tell you about him. It was presumptuous of me. Mary never said she would introduce me to her son, only that she would talk to him about me.
I have always liked you, Procula said contentedly. We are alike. You have, how shall I put it, an appreciation for the supernatural.
I smiled without answering.
Perhaps when you are next in Jerusalem you will come to see me again. She did not press her offer, but courtesy required that I accept. Better a friend at court than an enemy.
Chuza came for me. He wanted to have another word with the governor on our way out. I waited with the servants, watching Pilate as he sat slumped in his sturdy chair. I could see even from a distance that his dark head was filled with as few engaging ideas as ever.
I supposed Chuza was telling him about the citrus harvest in Galilee. My husband and I were traveling back to Sepphoris the next morning, so that he could spend his days in the fields with the workers and his nights in his own bed.
I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders to hint that our visit might soon end, but Pilate was not ready to let us go. Like a wolf drooling over a snared bird, he motioned for Chuza to bring me to him. Poor Claudia Procula, I thought. How does she live with such an unappealing man?
Chuza gave me no warning as we approached the royal chair. Pilate hardly acknowledged me but spoke only to my husband, saying that he had met with Manaen that morning. Chuza nodded; not a ripple of concern crossed his face.
He told me there had been a problem in the temple precinct, Im sure you know, Pilate said, twisting his enormous face toward me. I smiled, perhaps too eagerly. Chuza lowered his eyes in my direction, a familiar gesture that silenced me.
Oh, my dear, I hear you lost your way, Pilate said in pained sympathy. Whatever were you doing at the temple? Your family gave all that up years ago.
I had never seen the festival. In my fear of him, my voice faded to a whisper.
Pilate pressed a hairy ear in my direction.
I only wanted to see, I spoke up. Im sorry if I upset anyone.
The governor rolled his thick head back toward Chuza. Your wife shows unusual curiosity, he said. I am curious about the Jews, myself. We should know our enemies. But not at the expense of safety.
It wont happen again, Governor, Chuza said.
Pilate pressed my husbands shoulder to his own as a sign of confidence, but he did not look again in my direction.
The long ride to Sepphoris was made even longer because Chuza refused to speak to me. He got lost in his strategies for organizing the workers and counting the crops. I sat across from him, watching him grind his teeth, as if he were chewing on his plans. His distant manner distressed me. I straightened the petals on a gold collar I wore that day. It never hung right, even after three trips back to the jeweler.