by Krishna Rose
“By the time our noble house returns, you will have become a household name. Women shall flock to you for healing and mercy, and we—once the icons of injustice—shall be restored,” he said, reaching for my hand excitably. He touched the edges of my fingers with his swathed hand, playfully dancing between my fingers. “In my heart’s love hath no man a love like thee” he said, looking upon me thankfully.
“The greatest honor is conferred upon us, wife. As the doors of the world’s greatest secrets, which have been sealed for centuries, shall finally, at that time, be opened. Your name will, in conclusion, no longer be associated with shame, but glorified on earth as it is in Heaven—as the figure of embodied womanhood.
“The path may be strewn with thorns, yet without them, one might easily be dissuaded from the Kingdom which is at hand . . . to take comfort from this world. Truly I would take those barbs into my flesh time and again, if it ensured that the Kingdom would forever be accessible to those who crave it. Is it not so, Marjan?”
“Yes, it is so husband,” I nodded, cheered by his inspirited declarations.
“Our Messianic mission is now but in seed form. It may take two millennia or more before our names rise up like golden moons in the sky, to hail the new dawn. And though it has been the longest night, and my soul has at times been dissuaded, heavy with intent, ours are but small sacrifices to pay for the benefit of many,” he said confidently.
Our proclamations made my head spin. A woman—a Messiah. Jesu and I eternally bound together shaking the foundations of society.
“In my village, I was known as the bastard son of Mary, since Yosef was not my father,” Jesu professed. “My mother’s true identity, and therefore, my father’s too, were kept secret. Hence, we were often taunted by the locals, for she was frowned upon by the village women, seen as a sinner. As you know, judgements give rise to more sin than sin itself. For the sin was not in my mother, but in those who condemned her. And sin was not with me, but with they who judged it so.
“From my life’s inception, I was misunderstood. So I learned to die from the world and its expectations, so as to live. Mothers in the villages restrained their sons, preventing them from having friendship with me. They feared shame. My own mother was even threatened once with stones, after Yosef died. A group of men circled around her with rocks in their hands, calling her “whore,” condemning her as a woman of ill repute who had brought with her—into their holier-than-thou village—a bastard child. Thereby injuring the reputation of them all. They felt sullied by their mere association with our disgraced family.
“When I saw them surround her with stones in hand, I ran to her and stood before them willing to take every rock unto myself in order to protect her. Picking up a stone in my own left hand, I held it up threateningly, telling them, ‘Who among you is without sin? Let he be the one to throw the first stone. But be warned, for I shall throw ten-thousand stones at he who dares to do so—for I know where you go and what you seek to do after the sun has set! It is not my mother who has sinned against God, it is you who judge her—who sin,’ I told them. So the men dropped their stones, one by one, and walked away muttering to themselves sourly.
“This was why my mother chose to relocate us at that time. One day, there shall come to be a religion born by which millions of souls shall cry unto the wind upon my mother’s name. ‘Mary, mother of God,’ they will shout. When I saw these things, I did not at first recognize our faith, for it had become another thing altogether. By this, all wrongs done and said in her name, shall be made right,” he said restlessly.
“We had all heard the gossip regarding the circumstances of your birth. Yet my father, God rest his soul, in private, explained the truth of your mother’s plight to us,” I recalled.
“Marjan, know this. If people had half a mind as to the truth of human circumstance, they would take care. They know not how they are one day to be held accountable for every wicked thought and every evil-minded deed. Mankind is now under hypnotic suggestion, persistently starving the spirit to favor the flesh. We must never abandon them, for there are cruel masters and bondsmen always ready to make them grovel for all their devious yearnings. The people know not what they do when they are all too easily led astray.”
Agreeing, I took the babe unto my breast again, who cooed sweetly, bringing smiles to both our faces.
“Caiaphas demanded that I be beaten with the scourging whip,” he said, changing the subject—a severe sadness and strain suddenly upon his face. “Using knotted leather ropes with steel hooks to their ends, they loosen tongues by beating and frightening prisoners into confession. Some confess without shame, desperate to end the thrashing, while others, like me, submit to their punishment.
“And after I was sufficiently beaten, Caiaphas, who had been watching with a small group of priests, came before me and upon my bloody wounds tied a jute robe across my back. Jeering, he shouted ‘A King must wear a robe and a crown. Is it not?’ he squealed, squeezing a tightly spun crown of thorns upon my head, turning from me haughtily, leaving the Romans to do what they were ordered.
“That robe and crown tore at my flesh worse than any whip. For what religion is it that men teach, which brings a man to do such things in the name of God?” he said, rubbing his tired, bloodshot eyes.
“The burdens I carried, shall not easily be forgotten. It was enough to kill a man’s ardor for quarrel, for all time. Henceforth, I shall live in artful asceticism amongst the meek. No more fights shall I pick. No more fires shall I light. I shall from this day forth smother my body with the humble ashes of saints, for what remains of my will are but embers. I escaped the dying world, to journey in isolation through the relics of a million hopes dashed upon the shores of salvation. And there I sought answers—and found them.
“As I hung there upon the cross, the wind whipped at my skin, iron tore at my flesh, and my beating heart heard the wailing cries of all the mothers who prayed to God in their grief as their children were buried before them. The rising flames of human misery brought me to my knees. Did I not shed enough blood on this soil to satisfy their need, Marjan? Yet still they would do it over—if given a chance. To finish what they could not,” he said uneasily.
“Well, m’ Lord,” I said calmly, “it is no religion that I have any affiliation with. I am ashamed to say that we came from the same pool of belief as such a man as Caiaphas. Healing shall come like dew of mercy to make you well again, husband. In time, even your memories may fade. But Caiaphas will live in misery for the rest of his days. He and his foul friends will be haunted by all the damned of creation, who shall follow after them for your sake.”
“It was my burden to carry. One which I willingly took unto myself, Marjan. Yet now, the world is crucified to me and I to the world,” he said with a stony expression, breaking eye contact.
“It was a testament to unimaginable human savagery,” I said in a whisper. “Yet the scriptures were to be fulfilled, so there it is—God’s will be done. It is foolishness to think that your powerful brand of truth is what drove those men to inflict atrocities upon you. Your destiny was entrenched in the stars long before they even existed. So too is it my destiny, as I am to be banished from chastity and good repute for two millennia! Fire burns and knows no end to its strength, yet the battle upon the human field is not to be retreated from—for the cries you heard, are of those we have yet to touch,” I said, as another chill coursed across my body’s surface.
I reached for him, but it was as if he were gone from me again. Leaning upon his cane, he stood up, on his crippled feet, rising tall, staggering half-drunk from pain, not of the flesh, but of spirit, beyond human measurement. Tormented by my husband’s broken resolve, I sank down into afternoon oblations, bowing my head low, whispering prayers beseechingly.
“Where there is pain Lord, le
t us offer mercy. Where there is war, empower us with peace. Where there is weakness, fill us with the strength to deliver. Have mercy on our souls. Search for our sins and forgive us, so that we might be cured. Where there is lust, heal us with Your chastity, and sanctify our lives as we surrender our souls unto Thee. Where there is pride, cover us with Thy blanket of humility, and where there is ignorance, fill us with Thy wisdom. We are repentant beggars at Your door, praying for You to mercifully deliver us unto Your Kingdom. For Thine is the Kingdom, the power, and the glory. Amein.”
“Amein,” Jesu echoed.
Strong winds loomed over us, as if pronouncing the intensity which privately tormented my husband. Sarah-Tamar clung to me, fearful of the groaning sounds the ship made as it rattled in the tremendous waves. Suddenly it seemed so fragile, where before it had seemed so mighty.
“A dangerous storm is upon us,” my uncle shouted over the fierce winds. The waves, chipping away at our security, seemed inebriated. My stomach turned. Sarah-Tamar reached for my hand and I happily held it with a firm grip, stroking her long bony fingers with my thumb. She rarely reached for me these days, not since her father died. Perhaps she blamed me for her father’s death, though, as God is my witness, I had little to do with it.
Salome had of late become close to Sarah-Tamar, more like a sister than an aunt. Perhaps, accountable for John’s untimely demise, she felt shamefully bonded to her as a means of atoning for her sins. I was glad of it, since she had few confidantes. Sarah of course, knew nothing of what had transpired. We had, as a family, made the decision to keep vows of silence regarding the circumstances of her father’s passing. Mary-Salome had atoned for her extreme behavior and that was all that we could bring ourselves to conceive of—for now, at least.
There were four safety boats, which were shorter wooden sailing vessels with rudders and sails meant for small parties of people. In the event of the ship’s capsizing, we were to climb aboard one of them and escape. “Hold the railings tight and bind your bodies with ropes until the storm passes. The winds are in our favor. We shall move quickly now,” my uncle prompted. I could see that his face betrayed the calm in his voice, so I waved for him to come to us.
“Should anything happen . . .” he said, raising one eyebrow, “go to the east side of the ship. There’s a safety boat there. Bring the others with you and climb inside. Once you’re all safe inside, cut the ties with the knife secured at its side. Raise the sails quickly and hold the ropes fast until they are bound tight. Maximus will help you. He will guide you to safety. We are close to shore, so if anything happens I’ll bring the others in the boat on the northern side of the ship, which is larger. We’ll meet at the first town. Maximus knows the area well. Should it happen . . . I mean,” he said, correcting himself under his nervous jitter.
“How will I know when to go? What will the signal be?”
“If the bell rings loudly and doesn’t stop—run. Leave your belongings and do as I bid. Child, I have traveled these waters nigh on twenty times these past years, and storms rage as ships cross from warm waters into cooler regions. We’ll most likely be fine. Give calming herbs to the women and children and let us pray for safe passage,” he said, winking.
A huge wave hit the ship so hard, I thought we would most surely topple over. The babe was in Martha’s arms crying loudly, so after binding ourselves with ropes, I held him in my arms nursing til’ he slept, in spite of the commotion. Soon after, we could hear the sails above us tearing in the fierce winds.
Unexpectedly Jesu stood up. With his arms raised high above him, he roared like a lion. “Calm yourself Mother! Your children sleep upon your lap and request safe passage. I beseech thee to take your hunger elsewhere—for we are called by the Lord to pass these shores. Therefore be pacified Mother, in the Lord’s good and holy name!” he exclaimed authoritatively.
The rain, soaked his sun-kissed face while his tunic and scarves fluttered in the wind with possibility. Then, just as quickly as the storm had come upon us, the sea acquiesced to him, as if in immediate submission to his will. Whoops of joy came from the crew below. The men gushed onto deck to mend the shredded sails and within the hour we were sailing again. All signs of the storm had disappeared.
It was to be the second miracle from the world’s risen Messiah, the first being his resurrection. I was glad of it, for it was a sign that Jesu was back.
The crew eyed us suspiciously, noticing my husband for the first time. Questioning his presence onboard, they no doubt wondered amongst themselves whether the resurrected King, about whom all of Alexandria was gossiping, was here among them. That information would be worth a fast coin or two. I could see my uncle having the same thought as me, as he too noticed their suspect glances in our direction. I had no doubt he would pay the men handsomely for their silence.
Drifting in and out of days in a whirl of thoughts, I milled over the things Jesu had spoken of, and before long we arrived in Gallia.
The Mary was weak, but she had survived and we were all grateful for it.
CHAPTER 21
ATONEMENT
Atonement is when one makes amends for wrongdoings, as an act of freeing oneself from sin—and the guilt and shame thereof, through repentance and forgiveness.
After two full moons of travel, we had finally arrived at our destination—Gallia. A wild marshy area at the mouth of the Rhone River, used only occasionally by Roman ships. The sun shone and nature was abundant, full of wildlife.
Upon our arrival, we were greeted by excited local villagers who were fishermen by trade. They took us into their homes and fed our feverish hunger, making comfortable beds for us to sleep in. We were thankful for the stillness of land beneath our feet. Since we did not speak their language, we signaled to one another with hand gestures and facial expressions, so our conversations were animated and friendly, in spite of the awkwardness.
Within days, Uncle Joseph had arranged caravans for us. Gathering our possessions we proceeded onward towards the forest beside River Lot, two day’s ride from where we had landed. My uncle’s close friend, Arviragus, who after baptism became known as Caractacus, met us on route, to guide us to our new home in Redhae, which was an ancient land, green and hilly.
My discerning uncle, had the bright idea of sending a boat to Persia as a decoy, with a small entourage posing as the family of the risen King of Jews. They set about spreading word of Jesu’s reappearance. This would ensure, at least for now, our safety.
Hundreds of cavernous grottos were set deep inside the looming mountains. They were said to have housed the earliest humans on earth, who lived here thousands of years before, with only a myriad of wall paintings and artifacts left behind as testimonies of their lives.
The Jewish communities had settled here more than seven-hundred years before. There were five groups—the Zealots, the Sadducees, the Pharisees, the Essenes, and the Samaritans.
The Pharisees were eager to separate themselves from the non-Jewish Romans and pagans. They were fanatical and observed all the laws of the Torah—believing in life after death and in Heaven and Hell. They clutched to the idea that at the end of time, they would be returned to life, to enter a Kingdom which would descend to earth with the coming of their anointed Messiah.
The Zealots were a radical group who had broken away from the Pharisees because, to them, independence from Rome was more important than strict observance of any laws. Like the Maccabees, they were at times aggressive, and even violent when they felt the need to be. They led many rebellions against Roman rule and as a consequence were very much a feared clan. Most of them believed John to be their Messiah and savior.
The Sadducees were also anxious to continue their line from John. They were on a hunt to search us out, with the intention of claiming Sarah-Tamar from us, to lay cla
im to her Messianic bloodline line. For it was their belief, that her father, John, was the anointed savior. Fortunately for us, this group lived furthest away from our little commune.
The Essenes were peaceful people, attuned to the natural world. They believed in the sacredness in all of life, and preferred to remove themselves from the other Jewish sectors, as they were uninterested in debates and disputes.
Then there were the Samaritans, who were a large community of conservative, mainly peaceful people, living outside of the cities like the Essenes. These were people of great faith, believing in one God, one prophet, and one holy scripture—namely the Torah and the five books of Moses. They, much like the Pharisees, believed a prophet like Moses would appear at the end of time. Their form of Judaic tradition was generally frowned upon by most Jews, yet their following was vast.
The Samaritans claimed their worship as the true religion of the Israelites. Prior to Babylonian exile, this tribe of people were preserved by those who had remained in Judea. The Samaritans were opposed to modern-day Judaism, which they asserted, was a related, yet altered, albeit amended religion belonging to the Jews who thereafter returned to Judea from exile hundreds of years later.
Ancestrally the Samaritans claimed their descent from the heirs of the lost tribes. Persecuted and frowned upon by their adversaries, Jesu felt great love for their people, knowing them to be true to the faith. He was drawn to be with them and preach among them, yet only small groups of Samaritans came to hear from Jesu, as most remained hostile, believing him to be a Messianic pretender.
The chief priest of the Essene community, Simeon, met us in Redhae, and the Essene villagers came with him out of curiosity, to see the strange new arrivals to their region.
“Can any of you heal?” Simeon asked flatly, signaling with his eyes to the group of men surrounding my uncle.