Woman of Sin

by Debra Diaz

  “Oh, I don’t think there is any danger to you.” Pilate seemed amused. “I assume you have bodyguards?”

  “Yes, of course, but what are they against so many? Look at what happened to my husband.”

  “But those were rebels who attacked your husband, because of his position.”

  Megara fell silent. Pilate said, “Come now, it’s not as bad as all that. You must have made some friends here.”

  “Well, there is Herodias,” she said reluctantly.

  “Great Jove, I’d advise you to stay away from that woman! My wife despises her. And Herodias knows it, so it’s not as if I’m telling tales. By the way, Paulus, what is the matter with Herod? We heard he was having some sort of collapse.”

  Megara hastened to explain. “I suppose you mean that preacher, John. Yes, Herod is obsessed with him. He’s been going to Macherus every few weeks to talk to him in prison. What about I’m sure I don’t know, and Herodias is frantic to be rid of him.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of this John. I was surprised it took so long for Herod Antipas to throw him into prison.”

  “There’s another one as well,” Paulus added. “He is connected to John somehow—there has been communication between their camps, so to speak.”

  “Another preacher? Isn’t he afraid of Herodias?”

  “He’s not afraid of anything from what I’ve heard,” Paulus answered. “This Nazarene has openly criticized even the leaders of his own people. He must know he won’t get very far with that. He has gained quite a following, however.”

  “I haven’t heard of this one. What does he do?” Pilate almost flinched with regret at having made this admission; it raised a question of his competence. Well, he’d been overrun with administrative duties…probably there was a report somewhere on his desk.

  “He travels with a band of disciples, and I’ve heard rumors that he heals people, or pretends to. They say he was in Jerusalem earlier this year…I was incapacitated at the time…but he was rather quiet and left abruptly. Last year before my arrival he apparently created some kind of ruckus in the Temple. I would like to have seen it. But he has confined his activities to Galilee for the most part.”

  “Let him stay there, then.” Pilate leaned back musingly, bending his elbows and placing his fingertips together. “Do the Jews think he is their Messiah?”

  “As far as I know he’s made no such claim. If the Jews expect him to lead a revolt against Rome, I think they’re mistaken. My sources say he talks of forgiveness, and loving one’s enemies.”

  “Well, the priests ought to like that. He won’t be stirring things up they can’t control.”

  “Oh, he’s stirring things up. He has referred to them, and to the Pharisees in particular, as a lot of hypocrites—says they’re too unbending, that they strain at gnats and swallow camels.”

  Pilate burst out laughing. “A bit indelicate, but I’ll commend him for that. And what happened to loving his enemies?”

  “I suppose they are an exception. He seems especially harsh toward men in authority who, in his opinion, mislead the people, or cause them to stumble over minute details and traditions they’ve supposedly added to their Law.”

  “Oh, I’m quite familiar with their washings and bathings and fastings, and how they can only walk a certain distance on their Sabbath. They are a ridiculous sight bending over to say their prayers in the middle of the road! But the people love them, eh? They are far more popular than the Sadducees.”

  Megara said hurriedly, “Have you any news from Rome, sir? My father is such a poor correspondent.”

  The prefect didn’t answer, and a look of uneasiness crossed his face. Paulus knew immediately what was on his mind, for he had recently received a letter from a friend in Rome detailing the latest tumult; it involved Sejanus, to whom Pilate owed his governorship. Tiberius had at last grown suspicious of Sejanus’ ambitions, or rather had decided to stop pretending he didn’t know about them. He was apparently sending out signals of his displeasure to the Senate, attempting to ascertain the depth of their loyalty to his “co-ruler”.

  If Sejanus fell there would be a full-scale investigation into his activities…and probably a bloodbath. Any and all of Sejanus’ associates would be suspect, including the governor of Judea. Pilate would no doubt be keeping a much lower profile in the days to come. Anything he did to antagonize the Jews would go against him without Aelius Sejanus to support his actions.

  Pilate recovered and said amicably, “The emperor remains in Capri and the world goes on…I’ve always said that no news from Rome is good news. Won’t you tell me, Megara, the news of Jerusalem.”

  Overcoming her earlier sullenness at being left out of the conversation, Megara launched into more criticism of Herod and praise of Herodias—notwithstanding Pilate’s distaste for the subject, which was almost comically revealed by the subtle twist of his lips.

  * * * *

  On a sweltering day in mid-summer the Nazarene came to Bethany. His arrival brought confusion and excitement as the entire town turned out to see the famed preacher. He was accompanied by his disciples, now numbering twelve; the men were tired and hungry and covered with white dust from the roads. All who could manage to get away from their occupations congregated at Lazarus’ house, where the men would be staying, in the hope of hearing a sermon or witnessing some miracle. It soon became apparent, however, that the Nazarene had not come to preach, but to rest.

  He sought seclusion in Bethany, and peace, but this time it was not to be so. Martha found herself hard put to feed all those who gathered on the courtyard to speak with Jesus and his friends. She, Alysia, and the servants roasted meat, cooked vegetables and baked bread during the entire morning.

  “Where is Mary?” Martha demanded irritably, her red face beaded with perspiration.

  “I don’t know.” Alysia groaned under the weight of a huge pot as she pulled it from a shelf. She ran the back of her head across her damp forehead. “The last time I saw her she was out on the courtyard.”

  Martha made a disgruntled sound. “Yes, as are all my friends, except you, Alysia. You would think they’d realize we need help in here.”

  “They haven’t had the opportunity to hear him speak as we have, Martha.”

  “Mary has, and I’m going to call her at once!”

  The older woman marched outside and halted until she spied Lazarus sitting a short distance away from the Nazarene, who didn’t address the crowd but seemed to be answering individual questions. Next to her brother sat Mary, her young face rapt with attention. In fact, she was so concentrating on what Jesus was saying that she failed to hear her sister’s voice until Martha practically screeched, “Mary!”

  Everyone turned to stare at her, including Mary…who looked scandalized. Martha felt sick with embarrassment. She gave the Nazarene an imploring look. “Don’t you care that Mary sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me!”

  “Martha, Martha,” he said, in a low voice, “don’t trouble yourself so. Mary has found that which is important to her. Let us not take it from her.”

  Thus reproached—however kindly — Martha disappeared into the house where she sniffed ominously but continued preparing the food until it was taken outside and served. After the meal, Alysia joined those who had overflowed the courtyard and now lined the street. The stifling heat of midday had lessened to a pleasant warmth, cooled by a breeze sweeping down the mountain.

  She looked around to see if Nathan had come, but didn’t find him. He had obstinately refused to join her, saying there were repairs to be done around the house. She watched the Nazarene for a while, who was talking and laughing with several children. The children seemed drawn to him; several perched upon his knees, while others sat down at his feet.

  She had a sudden, uncanny feeling that she was being watched, and turned her head to look around. She caught a glimpse of a familiar face before the man nodded at her and turned abruptly to walk away.

  Paulus! The
realization hit her with a shock that left her weak. What was he doing here, and garbed as a Jew? She walked quickly after the retreating figure until she rounded a corner, where they were hidden from the view of the townsfolk.

  He stopped and turned. His hair was longer and tousled and he wore a robe.

  “Paulus!” she cried in amazement. “What are you doing here?”

  He said only, “Alysia,” and seemed to be at a loss for words. It had been almost a year since they had seen each other. She met his gaze and knew she must speak, must say something impersonal.

  “You haven’t answered my question, Paulus. And why are you dressed like this?”

  He made an effort to speak as casually as she. “I couldn’t very well appear here as a legate, could I?”

  “I—suppose not.”

  “Alysia, there is something I must tell you.”

  His tone was serious and she felt a sudden apprehension. “What is it?”

  “Lucius is in Jerusalem.”

  “Lucius!”

  “Yes. He has no way of knowing you are here. I’ve warned Megara to say nothing. But you had better stay out of Jerusalem. And there is something else. A letter arrived at the garrison, a list of fugitives, and your name and description are on it. It was posted for viewing before I knew it had arrived. I destroyed it, but it may have been seen by some of my men.”

  She swallowed, trying to adjust to this unexpected revelation. “Why did Lucius come here?”

  Paulus shrugged. “Who can say what’s in his mind—other than some mischief.”

  “But, we can’t trust Megara not to tell Lucius about me. Would she not put aside any fear of you to see me dead?”

  “Let me worry about Megara. Believe me, she does not want to be entangled with anything to do with you, because it would involve me and therefore her.”

  There was a long pause, and Alysia said, “You could have sent a message, instead of coming yourself.”

  He answered in a low voice, “There are men who are watching the Nazarene; they have been ordered to let me know whenever he enters Judea. Early this afternoon when I heard he was here, I decided to come. I have been wanting to see him for myself.”

  A sense of disappointment struck her, but she said quickly, “Why? What are you going to do about him?”

  “Nothing yet. Nothing…as long as he does not gather weapons or speak against Rome.”

  She shook her head. “He is not going to do that. Besides, he—” She stopped. How was she to tell Paulus what she knew about Jesus, what she had seen? He would never believe her. She still couldn’t believe it herself.

  “Yes?” Paulus asked, searching her eyes.

  “He means no threat to Rome,” she said finally.

  There was another moment of prolonged silence, and then he said, “You know that it was you I came to see.”

  Alysia looked down, alarmed by the violence of her emotions. Happiness flooded over her, but she mustn’t let him see. She retreated a step and looked at his set shoulders. “Thank you for the warning, Paulus. My—husband—would be grateful as well. I must go now.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to distress you. I only wanted you to know that if you ever need me—”

  “Thank you,” she said again, her voice muffled.

  With an effort of sheer will Paulus watched her walk away. He waited for some time, so they wouldn’t appear to have been together, and walked the short distance to the house where he had seen the people assembled. He wasn’t surprised to see that Alysia had disappeared.

  He joined the outer edge of the crowd; several men had gathered in one place and he knew they must be the special apprentices, or disciples, of the Nazarene. One of them, a man as tall as he with thick black hair, turned a little toward Paulus to regard him quizzically. Paulus nodded and drifted further away.

  He remained only long enough to observe the Nazarene and listen to him speak. A group of children sat around his feet, while adults stood behind them. He was talking about something he called “the kingdom of heaven”. The kingdom of heaven was like yeast, he said, when a woman mixes it with flour and it’s worked into the dough. The kingdom of heaven was like a merchant who looks for fine pearls, and when he finds one of great value he sells everything he has in order to buy it.

  Paulus thought of a verse he had read recently, out of the Hebrew Psalms: “I will open my mouth in parables — I will utter things hidden since the creation of the world.”

  He gazed intently into the Nazarene’s face. There was nothing remarkable about his features…large eloquent eyes, thin nose, high cheekbones, except…what was the difference? Then it struck him that he was looking at a face that was completely open, one utterly without guile or deception. An honest face.

  Paulus’ advisors believed that the Nazarene could be dangerous with the large following he had. But whatever his purpose, Paulus decided, it was not to overthrow the government. This “kingdom of heaven” must be some sort of allegory, meant to illustrate his teachings. This man obviously had deep convictions, but he was no fanatic.

  He glanced over the crowd, wondering if Alysia’s husband were present. He didn’t see anyone who resembled the wild-eyed man from the Zealot attack. He didn’t know for certain that it was the same man, for the names were common enough. Paulus had not sought him out, for Alysia’s sake, but he could not ignore the man should he be caught in another offense.

  “Sir, would you like something to eat?” His thoughts were diverted by a motherly-looking Jewish woman, who looked up at him expectantly.

  He smiled and said in Aramaic, “No, thank you. I was about to leave.”

  He saw that he had attracted the attention of a group of young maidens, who blushed and giggled when he caught them staring. As he began the walk back to Jerusalem, he thought his heart was very heavy…to be so empty.

  CHAPTER XIV

  A new restlessness seized Alysia during the remaining summer months that she found impossible to put aside. Then the rainy season began and confined her to her house, as completely as the knowledge of Lucius’ presence in Jerusalem forced her to remain in Bethany. She deeply resented this confinement. It was all she could do to present a pleasant mien when Nathan came home at night…if he came at all. His meetings in other towns had become more and more frequent.

  Her daily chores became tedious and dreaded; small things began to irritate her. Nathan arrived unexpectedly one afternoon to find her crying over a clay pot she had dropped and broken while cleaning the shelves of dishes.

  “This is nothing to cry over,” he said impatiently. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing!”

  He took her by both arms, his face strained. “I want to know what is troubling you!”

  “I don’t know!” She wrenched herself free, walking rapidly into the next room. “Leave me alone!” she sobbed, when he followed her. Nathan whirled and strode irately out of the house. Much later, when he returned, Alysia didn’t speak when she felt him slip into bed beside her.

  * * * *

  It was almost like watching a play, Paulus thought, and he was most interested to see how it would end. He stood on the walkway between battlements, looking down into the outer courtyard of the Temple. The Nazarene was there, surrounded by a crowd of listeners; nearby stood a flock of priests, looking dour and pretending not to listen.

  It was another holiday; this one involved the Jews setting up temporary huts, or booths as they called them, made of palm and pine and myrtle trees…and the entire park on the Mount of Olives was covered with them. People stayed in these huts for a number of days and then offered sacrifices; it was all very peculiar and a great annoyance to the legionaries, whose duties were multiplied every time the Jews had one of their “celebrations”.

  When the Nazarene arrived in the city he had caused quite a sensation, making a scathing verbal attack against the Pharisees and scribes (who were highly venerated and considered authorities on religious law). He openly
accused them of insincerity, of teaching one thing and doing another, of exalting themselves and desiring only the admiration and respect of men.

  “Hypocrites! How can you escape the damnation of hell?” The Nazarene went on to refer to them as “whited sepulchers” and “a generation of vipers.”

  The religious leaders trembled with outrage at this attack launched on the very streets of the Holy City, and by a Nazarene! And the people actually listened to him!

  He must be silenced. Pharisees and Sadducees put aside their conflicting opinions on every issue save this one. Their network of spies had failed to trip him in his words in order to establish a charge of treason, for which Rome would promptly execute him, nor had they succeeded in catching him in a phrase that might be construed as blasphemy. To be more exact, they had heard him blaspheme…with their own ears!…but whenever they tried to take hold of him to arrest him he somehow got away. It was as though he actually disappeared, although that of course was impossible. Obviously Satan temporarily blinded them so that the Nazarene could escape.

  Paulus had been informed of all this by his own spy, an “elder” in the Sanhedrin, a wealthy but weak-minded man named Phineas, who was terrified of the turmoil caused by the Nazarene. Phineas was certain, as were others, that if Rome believed a rebellion was brewing they would destroy the entire nation. He felt it his duty to relay to Paulus all that the Sanhedrin was doing to check the Nazarene’s influence over the people.

  That day there had been a meeting presided over by the High Priest and his father-in-law, Annas. Some said that Annas was the real High Priest and Caiaphas only bore the title, for Annas was still the most influential man among the Jewish leaders…though Rome had deposed him from that office over fifteen years ago, and possibly for that reason.