Poisoned Honey

by Beatrice Gormley

  What possible business could a wandering preacher have at the tollgate? wondered Matthew.

  The rabbi stopped in front of him. “Peace, Matthew bar Alphaeus.”

  Matthew was startled. The rabbi had called him by name. Of course, he might have found out Matthew’s name from another traveler. What was much more surprising, a holy man was greeting a toll collector as if he was a decent human being. Matthew felt confused. “Peace, rabbi,” he mumbled.

  The rabbi caught Matthew’s gaze and held it. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” he said.

  What! Matthew was too amazed to answer. He glanced at the rabbi’s disciples to see if this was a joke. But they looked as surprised as Matthew felt.

  Finding his voice, Matthew was further surprised by the words he spoke: “Let’s see—ten of you would be four sestercii—I’ll give you a break and call it only three sestercii. Wait … only two sestercii.”

  The rabbi nodded and gestured to one of his followers to pay the toll. But he didn’t gush with gratitude, as Matthew expected. He looked at Matthew encouragingly, the way a patient teacher looks at a pupil who has learned aleph, the first letter of the alphabet.

  Then the rabbi walked through the stone arch, and his disciples followed like ducklings after their mother. They took the branch of the highway that wound down toward the lakeshore, and soon they were out of sight.

  One of the guards said to his fellows, “Now that’s a new trick, the way that rabbi got his whole gang through the gate for half the toll!” The other guards didn’t look openly scornful—Matthew paid their wages, after all—but Matthew knew he’d lost some of their respect.

  Strangely, Matthew didn’t feel tricked. He felt as if a new possibility had opened up for him. He watched the rabbi and his disciples reappear farther down the hill, turning off on a dirt road that led to Capernaum. Matthew went over in his mind how it had felt when that man met his gaze. When he said, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  He really did want to meet me, thought Matthew. The rabbi was a working-class man for whom even two sestercii was a price to be spent carefully. Rabbi Yeshua must have thought it was worth the price, to meet Matthew. To get his attention? Matthew was mystified but at the same time filled with hope.

  Matthew’s hopeful mood grew during the rest of the day. He gave a reduced rate to several travelers, none of whom could do him any favors. He restrained his guards from beating an olive oil merchant who tried to sneak around the tollgate. He didn’t overcharge anyone, not even the obviously wealthy trader with the Persian rugs.

  At home that evening, however, Matthew began to worry a little. The tolls he’d collected that day didn’t even add up to the Romans’ portion. He had to take a few coins from his own money chest and put them in the Romans’ strongbox. Well, it was all right to be generous at the tollgate for one day. He’d make up for it the next day.

  But in the next days and weeks, generosity became a habit with Matthew. He got a secret thrill out of seeing travelers react to his unexpected kindness. Some of them looked as if they hadn’t expected any good surprises for the rest of their lives. When their eyes widened and their faces lifted, Matthew felt his own heart lift. It was like the satisfaction he used to feel for protecting his brother from the bullies at synagogue school, and now he seemed to sense James’s approving gaze on him.

  Matthew began attending the Sabbath prayer meetings in Capernaum again. He still got a chilly reception at the synagogue, but it was worth it on the days that the rabbi was there. Rabbi Yeshua, as he was called, apparently traveled a good deal; the rest of the time he lived in Capernaum with Simon, one of his disciples. Whenever Yeshua caught sight of Matthew at the Sabbath meeting, he nodded and said, “Shalom.” No one else did, not even Yeshua’s followers.

  Yeshua’s followers. How had the rabbi chosen them? Matthew wondered. Most of them seemed to be peasants-fishermen or other laborers—but each of them had an air of confidence that didn’t fit with their low class.

  There were even women among Yeshua’s disciples! It took Matthew a few weeks to come to this conclusion because, at first, he naturally thought the women in Yeshua’s following must be either wives of the disciples, or prostitutes. But these women did not act meek, like wives, nor did they have the come-hither manner of prostitutes. Like the men, they seemed confident in themselves. Furthermore, Rabbi Yeshua spoke to them as if he hadn’t noticed they were women.

  After a Sabbath meeting, Rabbi Yeshua would lead a crowd out of the village to the hillside. They sat down there to listen to him speak. Matthew came, too, but he stood at the back of the crowd, so as not to make people shrink from him. He listened to the rabbi like a dog gobbling scraps.

  “Blessed are the merciful,” said Rabbi Yeshua one day, “for they shall obtain mercy.”

  “Yes!” Matthew exclaimed, causing people to turn and stare at him. But didn’t they see? It was just simple arithmetic, like “two and two is four.” When Matthew went easy on a poor traveler at the tollgate, he could feel his own mercy reflected back on himself.

  At the end of the month, the Roman overseer came by to collect the take from the tollgate. Matthew noticed that Quintus Bucco looked weary. “I hope all’s well with you and your family,” said Matthew.

  Bucco shot him a puzzled look. “My family? I suppose they’re well. I don’t see much more of them than I see of you. They’re at the main garrison in Caesarea, and my route covers all of stinking Galilee.” Slumping onto Matthew’s couch, he helped himself to wine. “But let’s stick to business, toll collector. They’re raising the rates.”

  “What!” exclaimed Matthew. “Half the people who use the highway can hardly afford it as it is.”

  “Then they shouldn’t be using the highway,” said Bucco. “Or,” he added with a humorless laugh, “you don’t have to charge them the new rate. You can pay the difference yourself.”

  Matthew was startled to hear Bucco say exactly what he’d been thinking. Bucco was joking, of course. Matthew looked thoughtfully at the table on which the wine and cakes rested. It was a fine piece of furniture, its top inlaid with a pattern of lotus flowers and palm branches. He could sell that to raise some money. And he could sell the silver lamp stands, as well as several other costly items he didn’t really need. He could let half of his servants go.

  Matthew knew what was wrong with this plan. Sooner or later, he’d run out of furniture to sell and servants to let go. Then what? He didn’t know. But for now, Matthew was sure of what he wanted to do.

  TWENTY

  POSSESSED

  As the tax collector and his son disappeared into the storm, Phomelei made me rail at Susannah: “Is that what you think I deserve, a filthy traitor who works for the Romans?” I followed her into the bedchamber, where the baby was whimpering and Kanarit was trying to soothe him. “Do you want me to become an outcast?”

  “Hush!” said Susannah. “You’re frightening the children.” She picked up the baby from his cradle and pulled Kanarit close to her side. The little girl hid her face in Susannah’s robe.

  “You’re frightening the children,” chirped the sparrow through my mouth.

  “Mari, you’ve already become an outcast.” My cousin looked horrified at her own words, but she took a deep breath and looked me squarely in the face. “What’s the matter with you? Everyone asks me, ‘Why does your cousin talk to herself on the street—sometimes in different voices? What really happened to Eleazar?’ They ask me, ‘Aren’t you afraid to have her in the house with your children?’”

  Phomelei raised my hand to slap her. Then I noticed Kanarit peering fearfully at me, and I let my arm fall. I walked out of the chamber and through the common room, where Silas stood looking dazed. I dashed down the stairs through the rain.

  The voices beat on my mind like the drumming raindrops. How dare your cousin and her husband treat you like this! Phomelei hissed. Aiandictor said, Don’t they understand how powerful you are? Zaphaunt brayed, The
y deserve to be punished. A hoarse and grating voice broke in, Yes, punish them. Make the baby sick, and see how they like that.

  “No!” I exclaimed. “That’s an evil thought. I command you, go back to the garden!” I sat down in my apartment, shaking. Quiet, fool! exclaimed Phomelei. Who let you out? She isn’t ready. The voices trickled off to an inaudible mutter.

  Toward suppertime, Susannah came to my door and said she was sorry. I said I was sorry, too. Neither of us took back what we’d said during the shouting, but we hugged in a gingerly way. I came to supper and helped Susannah serve while Kanarit followed me with big eyes and Silas avoided looking at me.

  During the meal, Silas talked in his quiet, matter-of-fact way, relating some dull bits of news about the fishing catch in Capernaum and a dispute between two landowners near Bethsaida-Julias. Obviously, he must have learned these things as he’d made inquiries about a husband for me, but he didn’t mention that.

  “They say there’s a new preacher in that area,” Silas went on. “He’s from Nazareth, but he’s living in Capernaum now, in the house of one of his disciples.”

  This didn’t strike me as any more fascinating than the fishing catch, but Susannah asked, “A new preacher? Is he any different from all the other preachers?”

  “I don’t know,” said Silas. “This Yeshua bar Yosef is gathering a large following. They say he performs healings. He drives out unclean spirits, too. Maybe he’ll come to Magdala.”

  Suddenly I had a hard time paying attention to Silas because a murmuring began in my head, growing louder and louder.

  Watch out for that holy man! chirped the sparrow.

  Oh, worse than a holy man, brayed Zaphaunt. Curse his name!

  Do not say his name, warned Phomelei. That’s asking for trouble.

  Curse him, then. That was Aiandictor, although his usually smooth voice sounded strained.

  “Maybe Herod Antipas will cut off his head,” suggested the harsh voice. I was afraid he might be right; after all, Herod Antipas had done just that to another such preacher, John the Baptizer.

  “The Lord forbid it!” exclaimed Silas. “And I, as head of this family, forbid you to say such things.”

  “For shame, Mari!” said Susannah.

  Oh no—they’d heard what the voice said about Herod Antipas. I stammered some kind of apology to Silas and Susannah, but I was distracted by Phomelei giving me hurried advice: Of course, it was Odjit speaking, not you, but best not to try to explain that.

  It seemed that my advisors and protectors, with all their powers, were badly frightened of this preacher Yeshua. It made me afraid, too.

  On the Sabbath, it was still raining. I started to go to the synagogue as usual with Susannah and Silas. We hurried down the avenue to the meeting hall, holding our shawls over our heads. I was looking forward to hearing the Scripture read and praying with the congregation. I hoped it would soothe my spirit.

  They won’t let you in, you know, a voice brayed in my head. You’re disgusting, with those beetles crawling all over you.

  “What beetles?” I recognized that voice; it was Zaphaunt, the donkey head. I wasn’t going to let him annoy me. But now I felt a tickle on my left ankle. Tiny feet—many, many feet—hundreds and hundreds—creeping up my right ankle, too, over my knees …

  “Aagh!” Pulling up my robe, I slapped at the green beetles on my legs.

  The beetles fell off and disappeared. Susannah and Silas were staring at me. So was everyone else on the street. I dropped the hem of my robe.

  Other Jews on their way to synagogue walked around me in a wide circle. “Look away from that woman!” a mother told her children.

  “Mari, are you ill?” asked Susannah.

  “Yes,” I gasped. “I have to go home. Please, go on without me.” Pulling my scarf over my face and ducking my head, I turned and hurried back to my apartment.

  That’s right, you’d better hide yourself, the mean voice told me. You’re unclean.

  In my room, I sat on the bench and stared at the plastered wall. How could I not have realized that I was indeed unclean, infested—infested with beings much worse than green beetles?

  The demon voices were quiet for the moment, but my own thoughts told me the truth: I am possessed. Possessed. Possessed.

  At first, I was too frightened to step out of my apartment, and I didn’t even think of visiting my private garden. I huddled in a corner, reciting all the prayers I could remember, as the rainwater gurgled down the drain in the courtyard. The words of Scripture seemed to keep the voices down to a background murmur.

  After a day or so, the rain let up. I felt calmer, and the voices were finally silent. Maybe I’d frightened too easily; maybe I could control them after all, by saying prayers. Surely, I could venture out to the market? I needed flour and oil, and at the same time, I could look for a little present for Kanarit.

  As I walked down the avenue, the sun came out of the clouds and shone on the rain-washed paving stones. Outside the marketplace, the usual cluster of beggars held out their hands. There was a new face among them, a girl with pathetically shriveled legs. Deciding to give her my extra coin, I stepped toward her.

  “Oh, poor me!” sneered a coarse voice through my mouth. “I can’t walk right—I keep falling into camel dung-take pity on me!”

  I was horrified, but I couldn’t stop a guffaw from bursting out of my throat. “Hawr, hawr!” The laughter went on and on, as uncontrollable as vomiting. The crippled girl pulled back her hand, and another beggar snatched the coin from me. Passersby stared at me as I hurried on into the market, gasping.

  I was a fool! I shouldn’t have come out. Shrieks filled my ears, as if a flock of crows were flying around my head. I turned and ran back through the market, waving my arms to fend them off.

  Before I reached Susannah’s house, I was gasping for breath again, and I leaned against the wall in an alley. There was only one voice now, the cultured, cool voice of Phomelei. Lady Mariamne, a thousand apologies. The others can be crude at times. But you and I understand that.

  “Silence!” I whispered.

  My lady, I’m so sorry for that unfortunate incident. I’ll make up for it, I vow. I’ll help you … aren’t I helping you right now? I have them under control, and they’ll think twice about disobeying you again. But you need to learn how to handle them. I can assist you with that…. I long to assist you, dear Lady Mariamne!

  “How can you possibly assist me?” I asked coldly.

  Why, I can help you get the new husband you deserve, my lady. Oh yes, I know I said we didn’t deal with such ordinary matters, but finding your new husband is a more serious matter than I realized. Silas means well, but he’s been going about it all wrong.

  “Never mind a husband,” I snapped. “Those spirits must not get out of hand again. Promise me that, and I might listen to you.”

  I promise, with all my heart, on the honor of my name, Phomelei. Her voice rang with sincerity. Your wish will be easy to fulfill because you possess such gifts, Lady Mariamne! When you learn how to use your powers, you’ll only have to lift your little finger and the spirit world will grovel at your feet.

  The sweet words ran over me like honey. Yes, it made sense that I still had much to learn about tapping and controlling my special gifts. After all, when I began to learn embroidery stitches, as a little girl, my work was slow and awkward. But by the time I was twelve, I could sew embroidery that a noblewoman would be proud to wear.

  But about your husband! Phomelei went on. The first step is for you to decide on the man you want. Then I’ll advise you about how to apply the correct love charm. The very next day, the man himself will approach Silas and beg for a speedy betrothal. She chuckled gently. It’s that easy.

  I walked slowly through the alley to my cousin’s house and stepped into the courtyard. Susannah and the serving woman were at work on a pile of flax stalks, beating them to expose the fibers. The baby lay in his basket in the shade, fussing a little from his teeth
coming in. Kanarit was getting in the women’s way, dashing under their arms as she tried to help.

  “Kanarit, come with me,” I said to the little girl. “I want to show you a surprise.” Susannah cast me an uneasy look, but she didn’t object as I led her daughter up to the roof.

  “Did you bring me something from the market, cousin Mari?” piped Kanarit. She spoke well for such a young child.

  The market. It seemed like days ago that I’d set out for the market. I hadn’t bought the treat I’d intended for Kanarit, I realized, or even flour and oil. “I have something even better for you,” I promised. I had no idea what I meant, but I’d make up something. “I’m going to teach you …”

  Kanarit gazed up at me with wide, shining eyes. Aiandictor urged me, She deserves something really wonderful, not just an ordinary game.

  “I’m going to teach you how to fly!” This was the best idea I’d ever had! I might be an outcast, a woman fit only to marry a toll collector, but Kanarit was young enough that she could still achieve marvelous things. In great excitement, I pulled her to the low railing at the edge of the rooftop.

  Kanarit looked down on the awning of the kitchen shed, and the courtyard below it, then back at me. Excitement and fear mixed in her face. “I can’t,” she said. “People can’t fly.”

  “Most people can’t fly,” I corrected her. “But you’re a girl with rare gifts! For you, it’ll be easy.” Lifting under her arms, I set Kanarit on the edge of the wall. “All you have to do is think about where you’re going to land. Do you see the top of my apartment, across the courtyard?”

  The little girl nodded uncertainly, but she flexed her knees for the jump.

  Just then, Susannah paused in her work and glanced up. “What are you doing up there? Kanarit!” There was a sharp note of fear in her voice. “Get down this instant!”

  At Susannah’s voice, the spell was broken. Kanarit stiffened and twisted around, clutching at me. “Imma!” she screamed back to her mother. She managed to grab a strand of my hair. Yelping with pain, I pried at her hands.