The men remained in the yard, conversing among themselves and gazing at the patch of fresh earth, as if they had just buried a treasure and were trying to memorize the spot. But this was not the topic of conversation, because suddenly Zacchaeus could be heard saying aloud, in a tone of playful reproach, Now then, Joseph, what kind of carpenter are you, when you can't even make a bed for your pregnant wife. The others laughed, and Joseph joined them rather than lose face by showing his annoyance. Mary saw them walk to the gate, and now, seated on the stone slab of the hearth, she was looking around the room, wondering where they could put a bed if Joseph decided to make one. She tried not to think about the earthenware bowl or the luminous earth or whether the beggar was really an angel or only some practical joker. If a woman is promised a bed for her house, she must start thinking about the best place to put it.
BETWEEN THE MONTHS OF TAMMUZ AND AB, WHEN GRAPES were gathered in the vineyards and the figs began ripening amid the dark green vine leaves, certain events took place. Some were normal and commonplace, such as a man and woman coming together in the flesh, and after a while she tells him, I am carrying your child, others quite extraordinary, such as an annunciation entrusted to a passing beggar whose only crime seems to have been that peculiar phenomenon of the bright earth, which is now safe from prying eyes thanks to Joseph's mistrust and the prudence of the elders. The dog days are fast approaching, the fields are bare, nothing but stubble and parched soil. During the oppressive hours of the day Nazareth is a village submerged in silence and solitude. Only when night descends and the stars appear can one sense the presence of a landscape or hear the music of the heavenly planets as they glide past one another. After supper Joseph sat out in the yard, to the right of the door, to get some air. How he loved to feel the fresh evening breeze on his face and beard. Mary joined him, squatting on the ground like her husband but on the other side of the door, and there they remained in silence, listening to the sounds coming from the neighboring houses, the bustle of domestic life, which they, too, would experience once they had children. May God send us a boy, Joseph had prayed throughout the day, and Mary, too, kept thinking, Let it be a boy, dear God, but she had other reasons for wanting a boy. Her belly was slow in growing bigger, weeks and months would pass before her condition became visible, and since, out of modesty and discretion, she saw little of her neighbors, there would be general surprise when she turned into a balloon overnight. Perhaps the real reason for her secretiveness was her fear that someone might connect her pregnancy with the appearance of the mysterious beggar. Such thoughts may strike us as absurd, but in moments of weariness when her mind began to stray, Mary could not help wondering how all this had come about and who was the real father of this child she carried in her womb. As everyone knows, when women are pregnant, they are given to strange cravings and flights of fancy, some of them worse than those of Mary, which we shall not betray lest we tarnish the reputation of this mother-to-be.
Time passed, the weeks dragged, the month of Elul hot as a furnace, with the scorching winds from the southern deserts stifling the atmosphere, a season when dates and figs turn to trickling honey, and the month of Tishri bringing the first rains of autumn to moisten the soil in time for tilling and sowing, and the following month of Heshvan, when olives are gathered and the days finally turn cool. Unable to make anything grand, Joseph decided to make a simple bed where Mary might at last find rest for her swollen and cumbersome body. Heavy rains fell during the last days of Kislev and throughout most of Tebet, forcing him to interrupt his work in the yard. He took advantage of the dry spells to assemble the larger pieces of wood, but usually he had to work indoors in poor light, and there he planed and polished the unfinished frame, covering the floor all around him with shavings and sawdust, which Mary would sweep up later and dispose of in the yard.
In the month of Shebat the almond trees blossomed. In the month of Adar, the feast of Purim had already been celebrated when Roman soldiers appeared in Nazareth, a familiar sight throughout Galilee. Detachments went from village to city and from city to village, while others were dispatched into the country in Herod's kingdom, to inform the people that by order of Caesar Augustus every family domiciled in the provinces governed by the consul Publius Sulpicius Quirinus must participate in a census, which like all the others would bring the records up to date on those who had not yet paid their taxes to Rome. Without exception, every family had to register in their place of birth. Most of the people who gathered in the square to hear the proclamation did not mind the imperial edict, for as natives of Nazareth, settled for generations, they intended to register there. But some families had come from other parts of the kingdom, from Gaulinitis or Samaria, from Judaea, Peraea, or Idumaea, from here and there, from far and wide, and these began making preparations for the long journey, complaining bitterly about the perversity and greed of Rome and asking what would become of their crops, since it was almost time to harvest the flax and barley. And those who had large families, with babes in arms and elderly parents and grandparents, unless they had transportation of their own, wondered from whom they could borrow donkeys, or hire them at a reasonable price, and if there was a long and arduous journey ahead, ample supplies of food would be required, and water bags if they had to cross the desert, and mats and mantles for sleeping, and cooking utensils, and extra clothing, because the cold wet season was not yet over and they might have to spend nights out in the open.
Joseph learned about the edict only after the soldiers left to carry their glad tidings elsewhere. His next-door neighbor, Ananias, suddenly appeared in a great fluster to tell him what had happened. Fortunately for Ananias, he could register in Nazareth, nor would he be celebrating Passover in Jerusalem this year, because of the harvest, so he was spared both journeys. Ananias came to warn his neighbor, but warned him with such a smug expression, as if bearing good news. Alas, even the best of men can be two-faced, and we do not know this Ananias well enough to decide whether his is a momentary lapse from grace or if he has fallen under the influence of one of Satan's wicked angels with spare time on its hands. Joseph, hammering away at a plank of wood, at first did not hear Ananias calling him from the gate. Mary, whose ears were keener, heard a voice call, Joseph, but it was her husband who was being summoned, and who was she to tug at his sleeve and ask, Are you deaf, can't you hear someone calling you from the gate. Ananias called out even louder, the hammering stopped, and Joseph went to see what his neighbor wanted. Ananias was invited in and, after the customary greetings, inquired in the voice of one who seeks reassurance, Where are you from, Joseph, and, surprised, Joseph told him, I'm from Bethlehem of Judaea. Isn't that near Jerusalem. Yes, quite near. And are you going there to celebrate the Passover, asked Ananias, and Joseph replied, No, I've decided not to go this year, because my wife is expecting our child any day now. Oh, is that so. But why do you ask. Whereupon Ananias raised his arms to heaven and wailed mournfully, Poor Joseph, the trouble that awaits you, the aggravation, all this work to be done here and you're expected to put down your tools and travel all that way, so help me God, who sees and assists all things. Without asking the reason for this sudden outburst, Joseph echoed his neighbor's pious sentiment, May God help me as well, to which Ananias, without lowering his voice, replied, Yes, with God all things are possible, He knows and sees all things, both in heaven and on earth, praise be to Him, but, forgive the irreverence, I'm not sure He can do much to help you this time, because you're in the hands of Caesar. What are you trying to tell me. Only that soldiers have been here to proclaim that before the month of Nisan ends, all the families of Israel must go and register in their place of birth, which in your case, dear Joseph, means quite a journey.
Before Joseph had time to react, Shua, the wife of Ananias, appeared, and going straight to Mary, who was standing in the doorway, she began commiserating in the same mournful voice, Poor child, and so delicate, what is to become of you, about to give birth any day now and forced to make the journey to who kno
ws where. To Bethlehem of Judaea, Shua's husband informed her. Good heavens, all that way, Shua exclaimed, and in all sincerity, for once on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem she had gone to nearby Bethlehem to pray at Rachel's tomb. Mary waited for her husband to speak first. Joseph, furious that this news should come to Mary not quietly and with measured words from his own lips but blurted tactlessly by hysterical neighbors, said in a solemn voice, It's true that God doesn't always choose to wield the powers exercised by Caesar, but God has powers denied Caesar. He paused, as if to savor the profundity of what he had just said, before announcing, We shall celebrate the Passover here in Nazareth and then go to Bethlehem, and God willing shall be back in time for Mary to give birth at home, unless He decides that the child be born in the land of our ancestors. It might even be born on the road, murmured Shua, but Joseph overheard her and was quick to remind her, Many a child of Israel has been born on the road, and our child will be just one more. Ananias and his wife could only agree with the wisdom of these words. They had come to sympathize with their hapless neighbors, and to enjoy their own solicitude, only to find themselves rebuffed. But then Mary invited Shua inside to ask her advice about some wool she had to card, and Joseph, wishing to make amends for his harsh words, said to Ananias, Good neighbor, could I ask you to look after my house while I'm away, for we shall be gone for at least a month, counting the time the journey takes, then the seven days of seclusion, and more if by some misfortune the child should be a girl. Ananias promised his neighbor that he would look after the property as if it were his own, and suddenly it occurred to him to ask Joseph, Would you honor me by celebrating the Passover with my family and friends since neither you nor your wife has any relatives here in Nazareth, not after the death of Mary's parents, who were so old when she was born that people still ask themselves how Joachim could possibly have given Anne a daughter. Come now, Ananias, said Joseph, rebuking him playfully, have you forgotten how Abraham muttered into his beard in disbelief when the Lord told him He would give him offspring, and if Almighty God allowed a hundred-year-old man and a wife of ninety to conceive a child, why should my in-laws, Joachim and Anne, who were not as old as Abraham and Sarah, not do the same. Those were other times, Ananias replied, when God was ever present and manifest not just in His works. Well versed in matters of doctrine, Joseph retorted, God is time itself, neighbor Ananias, for God time is indivisible. Ananias was left speechless, for this was not the moment to bring up the old argument about the powers, whether consubstantial or delegated, of God and Caesar. Joseph, despite his demonstration of practical theology, had not forgotten Ananias's sudden invitation to celebrate the Passover with him and his family. He did not wish, however, to accept too quickly, because as everyone knows it is a sign of good breeding to receive favors without being too effusive, otherwise the granter will think we were simply waiting to be asked. So Joseph bided his time before finally thanking Ananias for his thoughtfulness. The women reemerged from the house, Shua saying to Mary, You're an expert at carding, my girl, and Mary blushed on hearing herself praised in front of Joseph.
One pleasant memory Mary would cherish of this auspicious Passover was not having to help with the cooking or serve the men at table. The other women agreed she should be spared these chores in her condition. Don't tire yourself out, they warned her, or you'll do yourself some mischief, and they should know, because most of them were mothers with young children. All she had to do was attend to her husband, who was sitting on the floor with the other men. Bending over with some difficulty, she filled his glass and replenished his plate with unleavened bread, stewed lamb, bitter herbs, and biscuits made of ground dried locusts, a delicacy much appreciated by Ananias, for these biscuits were a family tradition. Several guests declined, doing their best to conceal their disgust and painfully aware that they were unworthy of the edifying example of those prophets in the desert who, making a virtue of necessity, ate locusts as if they were manna. As supper drew to an end, poor Mary sat apart, sweat running down her face, her great belly resting on her haunches, and she scarcely listened to the laughter, banter, stories, and continual reading from the Scriptures, feeling she might depart this world at any moment, her life hanging by the thread of one last, pure, unspoken thought. All she knew was that she was thinking without knowing what she was thinking or why she was thinking. She awoke with a start. In her dream she had seen the beggar's face loom from a great darkness, then his huge body in rags. The angel, if indeed he was an angel, had crept into her sleep unannounced, when he was furthest from her thoughts, and gazed at her intently. She sensed curiosity, but perhaps she was mistaken, he came and went so quickly, and Mary's heart now fluttered like that of a little bird. Difficult to say whether she had been startled or someone had whispered something embarrassing in her ear. The men and boys still sat on the floor while the women, hot and harried, rushed back and forth offering them more helpings, but the men were full now, and their conversation became more animated as the wine began to take effect.
Without anyone's noticing, Mary got to her feet. Night had fallen. There was no moon in the clear sky, only the twinkling stars, which sent out a kind of echo, a muffled, barely audible hum which Joseph's wife could feel on her skin and in her bones, impossible to explain, like a furtive voluptuous shiver that lingers. She crossed the yard and looked out. She could see no one. The gate was closed, but there was a vibration in the air, as if someone had just run or flown past, leaving only a fleeting sign that would leave others baffled.
THREE DAYS LATER, AFTER PROMISING HIS CUSTOMERS THAT their jobs would be completed on his return and after making his farewells in the synagogue and entrusting the care of his house and the worldly possessions therein to his neighbor, Ananias, Joseph the carpenter set out with his wife from Nazareth and headed for Bethlehem, where they would register as Rome decreed. If the news had not yet reached heaven, because of some delay in communication or a problem with simultaneous translation, the Lord God must have been surprised to see the landscape of Israel so altered, with hordes of people traveling in all directions, when normally during the first few days after Passover people moved centrifugally, as it were, beginning their return journey from that earthly sun known as Jerusalem. Force of habit, however fallible, and divine perspicacity, the latter absolute, will undoubtedly assist Him to recognize, even from on high, that these are pilgrims slowly making their way back to their towns and villages, but what about this bewildering maze, as those obeying the profane order of Caesar travel at random across more familiar routes. Unless Caesar Augustus is unwittingly complying with the will of God, if it is true that in His divine wisdom He has ordained that Joseph and Mary should go to Bethlehem at this time. Our speculation, arbitrary and irrelevant as it may appear at first, should not be dismissed lightly, for it helps us disprove those commentators who would have us picture Joseph and Mary crossing the inhospitable desert all alone, without so much as a friendly face in sight, trusting solely in God's mercy and the protection of His angels. For no sooner does the couple reach the outskirts of Nazareth than it becomes clear that they will not be on their own. Joseph and Mary meet two large families, a veritable clan of some twenty members, including adults, grandparents, and small children. It is true that these are not all traveling to Bethlehem, one of the families is only going half the distance and will stay in a village near Ramah, the other will head south as far as Beersheba, but even if they should separate before reaching Bethlehem, because there is always the possibility that some will travel faster, the couple will join other travelers on the road, and meet those going in the opposite direction, on their way to register in Nazareth. The men walk ahead in one group, accompanied by all the boys who have reached thirteen, while the women, girls, and grandmothers of every age straggle behind, accompanied by the boys under thirteen. When they set off, the men in solemn chorus recited prayers suited to the occasion, while the women merely mumbled the words, for it is pointless raising your voice if no one is likely to listen, even though they
ask for nothing and are grateful for everything.
The Collected Novels of José Saramago Page 86