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.
Manaen betrayed us, I blurted into the strained silence.
He had to say something, Chuza answered without even looking up. If Pilate found out another way, we would both be in trouble.
I dont like him.
Manaen is an honorable man.
He could at least have warned you.
He did, I saw him this afternoon.
Why didnt you tell me?
Youre better at acting sorry when you havent rehearsed. I expected that Pilate would ask about the temple.
We fell back into our separate places and did not speak again until we were in Sepphoris. The house smelled of lemon leaves, reaching upward from their stone vases. Chuza breathed the comforting scent, and the persistent tic above his eye stopped twitching.
I was preparing to leave him after dinner when he did his best to make peace.
Lets put it behind us, he said.
Im very sorry. It was a heartfelt apology and he knew it.
It turned out all right.
I didnt mean to cause you trouble.
I know that, he assured me.
In the days that followed, I plunged into the care of the house, determined to please my husband. I had the servants scurrying until every bedcover and window drape was hoisted down and heaved onto the back terrace. Table linens, kitchen towels, camisoles, tunics, bed jackets, my husbands robesall were heaped like a termites nest of cotton, silk and linen.
It took several days to soak so much laundry in the two vast wooden barrels of hot water we prepared. Scrubbed and rinsed clean twice over, every washable item in the house got attention. The back courtyard resembled a fullers workroom. Linens hung drying in the sun. I went barefoot the whole time, grateful for plain stone floors to walk upon after the excesses of palace living.
Our third evening in Sepphoris, my husband said he would spend the next night in the fields with the workers. He often did so during the harvest, to show the men that he was not above hard labor.
Id like to go to Nazareth, I said. I met a woman from there. She is my cousin.
You didnt mention her.
It was before our trip to Jerusalem. Her name is Mary.
I described our family relations, hardly an unusual story. Judea, ruled for centuries by foreign invaders, had few unbroken households. Brothers had turned against one another. Sons had abandoned their fathers.
You will be home by dusk, Chuza said. We dont need any more excitement.
The next morning my carriage rattled over city streets, past the bridge where peddlers pushed their trinkets at me. Another time I would have been tempted by their bronze amulets that promised a cure for foot sores, toothache and sneezing fits. That morning I wanted only to see Mary.
Octavia fussed over my pillows and asked if I was warm enough until I eased her hands away and she settled in to her needlework, reinforcing the silver on one of my husbands evening cloaks.
The winding road to Nazareth was clear until we came upon workers repairing the aqueduct. They were finally getting around to it, after the Passover delays. Five men on a scaffold hoisted large rocks to replace those washed away by the rain.
Phineas slowed us to a crawl. He was always fascinated by the efficiency of so many ropes and pulleys, buckets and planks in motion. The workers heavy bundles swayed and lurched.
Octavia let out a clucking sound of disapproval and looked at Phineas in the drivers seat just ahead of us, as if to suggest that I should signal him to hurry. I took up my writing tablet and made a note. Butchercut of beef for ten.
A muffled thud warned me. Turning toward the sound, I watched a huge rock break away from the crumbling arch and crash to the ground. Two men at the top of the scaffolding lost their balance and fell. I watched with open mouth as one landed on the iron gears that moved the pulley. He was spiked on the sharp gears. I leaned over the side of the carriage and threw up.
Now well never get through, Octavia groaned. She had not seen the men fall, or my sudden illness.
Weve got to help them, I said, not certain what to do.
Octavias expression told me she wondered whether shed heard me correctly. I called to Phineas. He stopped the horses, climbed down from his place and soon stood beside me.
Go and ask if we can do anything.
He looked at me twice to be certain that he understood. Unlike Octavia, he would never think of questioning a command. He returned to us, asking for bandages. Octavia handed him a box from under the seat.
I opened the latch and prepared to step down. Are you sure? she pleaded. My husbands warning came back to me. No more trouble. I closed the door and waited. Phineas returned once again. One is dead, he reported. The others should be all right.
The foreman rode toward us, waving us on. The purple stripe at the hem of his tunic explained his polite attentions. A higher-ranking man, with at least two stripes on his tunic, had sent him. Our escort led us past the accident, and we continued on our way. Octavia rolled her sewing project between her fingers, preparing some sort of speech.
If I may say, she began.
I kept still, inviting more.
It is dangerous for a woman to stop and help strangers. She was not correcting me so much as curious about my actions, it seemed.
What if one of my servants had an accident on the road? I asked. Wouldnt you want someone to stop for him?
Did something happen to you at the temple in Jerusalem? Octavia asked.
No, I said.
Mary, my cousin, was the only one I would tell about my morning at the temple. Without her to explain it to me, I had no words for the mysterious encounter. Even though I did not yet know the meaning, I was certain of what I heard in the womens court. Bursting with excitement and gratitude, I wanted to do good for someone else. That is why I stopped for the laborers. But all of this was more than I could express to my maidservant. I looked out the window until she went back to her needlework.
From below the town, Nazareths hillside of caves resembled a bees comb. Some of the caves had shacks in front of them for extra living space. We moved slowly along the rugged switchback that had been pounded smooth by the goatherds.
The carriage was too wide to squeeze through the towns narrow lanes. Before we left it at the livery, I packed Phineas with sacks and jugs until he smelled of the barley, dried cod and palm oil he carried. Octavia placed a basket of apples over her shoulder. The villagers watched us with suspicion. We were strangers, not to be trusted.
I recognized Marys compound by the sign above the gate. A carpenters level announced the family business. We entered the courtyard. Phineas went to my cousins door and knocked. She opened it so briskly that the air stirred around us. In quick steps she came outside and dusted flour from her dress, vigorous as a young woman. Her large scarf could not contain the thick dark strands that rolled across the edge of her forehead. I smelled spice cake.