Free Poisoned Honey: A Story of Mary Magdalene by Beatrice Gormley Page A

Tiberias, as well as for Herod’s troops.”
    “Sardines,” I repeated.
    My mother ignored that remark. “You’re not the only one who needs to marry, you know. Chloe will be of age in a year or so, and she’ll have no chance for a good match if our business fails. And even more important, your brother needs to marry well.”
    Ah yes, I thought. Alexandros, even more important.
    “If you’re betrothed to Eleazar,” Imma explained, “thenEleazar’s cousin Thomas—Thomas the Elder; you’ve seen him in the synagogue—will allow Alexandros to marry
his
daughter Sarah. That’ll be an excellent connection for our family. Of course, the girl’s only twelve, but they can be betrothed now, and we’ll have her come to live with us until she’s of age.”
    As my mother talked, I realized that there was something much more at stake than whether I liked Alexandros’s choice of a husband for me. “Imma, all this doesn’t matter. What I really need is time to seek a sign—to meditate on the meaning of the prophet Miryam’s words to me.”
    Imma sighed and pressed her lips together. “Back to what you imagined in the
mikvah?
Don’t you see it’s time to give up on that?” She put her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes. I was surprised to realize that we were now the same height. “You
must
do your part, Mari! I’m afraid your father-may he rest in peace, the good man—indulged you.”
    “My father was a righteous man!” I retorted. “He would not force me to marry against my will.” Desperately I wished for Miryam to appear to my mother, right then. Why didn’t the prophet help me if she expected me to follow such a hard path? I exclaimed, “I will not do it. Hang a millstone around my neck and throw me into the lake if you like—I will not marry Eleazar bar Yohannes.”
    “Selfish, selfish daughter!” My mother tightened her grip on my shoulders, as if to shake me. Then, throwing up her hands, she walked away.
    Imma must have told Chloe what I’d said, because a little while later my sister came and sat down beside me. “I don’t blame you, Mari,” she said. “It would be better for the whole family to starve than for you to marry unwillingly.”
    I glanced sideways at her. Was she being sarcastic? No, my sister didn’t know how to be sarcastic. “No one is going to starve,” I said uncomfortably. Did Chloe realize that her own marriage depended on mine? If she did, she didn’t mention it.
    At least my grandmother would understand my point of view, I thought, even if she had no influence over my uncle and brother. I went to Safta and told her about meeting Miryam in the
mikvah
. I thought it would bring my vision back afresh, but to my dismay, it now sounded to my ears like something I’d made up.
    Safta listened with a wondering smile. “What a marvelous story, my dear! I must remember that one. I never thought of meeting Miryam in the
mikvah
, but yes—it makes perfect sense.”
    “But what about the mission Miryam spoke of?” I pleaded. “Shouldn’t I try to understand what she meant?”
    “Oh yes … let’s think about this together,” agreed my grandmother. “A ‘steep, rocky way,’ Miryam said to you? Requiring ‘great courage’? Do you know what that reminds me of, Mari dear? It makes me think of the story of Queen Esther.”
    By the end of the day, I felt confused and miserable. As I lighted the lamps, Alexandros appeared at my side. Of course, Imma had told him my answer, too, and he wouldn’t be as sympathetic as Chloe or Safta. I returned his greeting, but I kept my eyes on the lamp wicks.
    “Mari,” said Alexandros. “I don’t know what to do.” His tone of voice was reasonable, and I turned to look at him. “When Abba was dying,” he went on, “he told me to take care of the family. And I promised him, as was my duty. But now I can’t fulfill my promise.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked. “Abba left you the sardine business. Aren’t there