Woman of Mettle

By Linda Caddick

Is any sacrifice too great for the Kingdom of Light? Marriage and motherhood brings happiness beyond Shana’s expectations. Safe in her small agricultural community, the recent outbreak of persecution against the ‘followers of the Way’ in Jerusalem is distant enough not to affect her, and she is determined to keep it that way. Little does she know she is about to walk through the fire. How much is she prepared to suffer on behalf of another? Things get dangerous when an ambitious young man crosses her path, especially as he holds the key to her future. To survive, she must employ all her feminine wiles. In spite of her imperfect pursuit of the Master, his exceeding grace sustains her in her darkest hour. But when it’s all over, she is yet to find out whether love still remains.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Caddick
• Release date: Feb 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310382987

Linda Caddick

LINDA CADDICK, the daughter of a pioneering farmer in Zimbabwe, spent her school years confined to boarding hostels, but during the holidays wandered freely on the farm, where she developed a lively imagination and a love for nature. Strongly attracted to Cape Town, South Africa, she went to live there at the first opportunity. Her writing skills were developed during many years of producing descriptive editorial for a restaurant publication. After almost 20 years of city life, her dream of living in the country was realised when she and her husband, together with their two small children, bought a run-down caravan park in the Cape Winelands and turned it into a popular resort for church and family outings. Linda’s passion is to write inspirational novels which illustrate the truth of the gospel through true-to-life characters and stories that will appeal to all. www.lindacaddick.com www.Facebook.com/LindaCaddickAuthor [e-mail]

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

SHANA’S BREATH came in shallow gasps, hot beneath her veil. Enthroned like a princess, she clung to the arms of the decorated chair, which reeled and pitched on the shoulders of the young men as they led the parade with jubilant shouts and laughter. Behind the translucent fabric, she remained separate from the festivities, which drifted below her in a dreamlike fusion of colour and blurred movement. Only the rattle of tambourines and lively tune of pipes penetrated the film of unreality and brought an overwhelming awareness that this was her wedding day!

A tingle of emotion wet her eyelashes, causing the silk to adhere to her cheeks, and she quickly withdrew again to the place inside herself where she was only a spectator. The maidens, led by her younger sister, Beth, skipped ahead waving scarves that streamed out behind them in blends of mauves, blues and reds. Rafael was a steadier figure beside her, remote beyond her veil but a reassuring presence.

She peeked down at him nervously. Tall and vital, he walked with a springy, certain step, fully engaged with the proceedings and laughing merrily at his friends cavorting around him. He turned to smile up at her – a full, beaming smile of happiness – the way he'd smiled on his thirteenth birthday when his father gave him his first prayer shawl. She remembered the occasion well, how his joy had saddened her because she sensed their childhood friendship receding as he moved on into manhood, and she, still a girl, was left behind.

But now, with a burst of happiness, she reminded herself again of the fact that she was about to become his wife.

The bridal procession surged down the main street with its haphazard rows of houses and shops on either side, where groups had gathered in the doorways to smile and wave. Shana grew hot under the embroidered layers of her gown, and her hair was damp beneath the tiara of plaited reeds which Beth had entwined with white lilies. The chair rocked like a boat on the waves until, by the time they reached Rafael’s home, she felt dizzy and a little nauseous.

Rafael’s leatherworks shop, which faced onto the street in front of his house, was festooned with ribbons, and a trail of petals lay bruised on the cobbles leading into the courtyard behind. A jolt of trepidation contracted Shana’s stomach as they passed through the entrance, and she had to suppress an irrational urge to leap out of the chair, dash under the sea of waving arms, and flee into the mountains. But her heavy wedding robe and the weight of social constraints pinned her down. Besides, she had Rafael to think of now.

She caught sight of her mother, Milcah, seated like an empress in her new robe, her bosom swelling with pride, and longed to run to her and bury her face into the soft creases of her neck, but she took a deep breath and tried to remember what was expected of her. The friends of the bridegroom set the chair down and ushered her and Rafael beneath a flower adorned canopy for the ceremony. A hush fell as the couple stood facing one another, and the rabbi began to pronounce a blessing in solemn, sing-song tones. Shana trembled with emotion and came close to tears. She lifted her eyes to meet Rafael’s and saw in them such gladness, such tenderness, such wild happiness, that her heart lifted and she smiled tremulously. How handsome he looked with his brown muscled chest showing through the silk wedding garment with its wide crimson sash which emphasised the slimness of his hips, and his honest, clean-cut face smiling down at her.

She had witnessed the gradual moulding of that face since his childhood when it was plump and round until the first faint hollowing of the cheeks had developed into attractive lines on either side of his mouth. His once downy brows had darkened and now almost met over his high-bridged nose. But his eyes still retained their boyish candour. Maturity had shaped him into a magnetic combination of strength and gentleness. He was well loved in the community, and the whole village had turned out to rejoice with him. Most of them had grown fond of Shana too, now that they had forgiven her for once breaking Rafael’s heart, and thankfully, Shana’s cousin Haziel had spared them the embarrassment of his presence and was not there to remind everyone of her betrayal. Rafael, at any rate, had clearly put the matter behind him and was not going to allow anything to spoil his happiness.

To Shana’s delight, she noticed that her dear friends Mary and Abigail had arrived from Jerusalem for the occasion and she responded to their beaming faces with a tense smile beneath her veil.

She turned back to Rafael. Holding her gaze, he took her shaking hand and slipped the ring onto her finger, the same ring he had given her almost two and a half years ago when she had first promised to be his wife. That slim band of gold which had once symbolised all she had lost, now represented all that had been restored. There was a moment of reverent silence as Rafael lifted the front of Shana’s veil to uncover her face and gazed at her, aglow with love. They sipped wine from the same cup to signify their union, and then cheers exploded all around them and handfuls of petals were flung into the air, forming a soft, fragrant shower. The music started up again and celebrations began in earnest just as the sun sank in a reddened haze behind the houses, drawing down a dark indigo sky, spangled with stars.

The wine loosened Shana’s taut apprehension and she began to enjoy herself. She saw her sister smiling at her across the square with generous, glistening eyes and blew her a kiss, mouthing your turn next. A pang of sorrow stabbed her heart. By rights it should have been Beth’s wedding, not hers. Beloved Beth, who had eagerly anticipated her wedding day ever since she was a child and deserved it so much more, must now watch her sister marry the man she herself had loved. Yet Shana knew there was nothing but goodwill and gladness flowing from her loving heart and was grateful their friend Nathan was with her to make her laugh.

Rafael went to help his father to a bench against the wall. The stooped old man hobbled with halting, cautious steps, his big gnarled hands clutching a bent stick, his face oversized above his diminishing body, but his pride in his only son never faltered. Shana’s own father, too, would have been very well pleased with this union. What a pity he had not lived to bestow one of his rare smiles of approval upon her.

Shushana, my beauty, you look magnificent, cried Mary with her usual hyperbole. She swooped upon her, with colourful garments flying out like an exotic bird, and gathered her into her arms. I’m so happy, I could burst. Praise the Lord for such a glorious day as this!

Thank you so much for getting here, said Shana in a muffled voice from within Mary’s embrace. I know it was a hard day’s journey for you and Abigail.

We wouldn’t have missed it for the world. What a wonderful testimony to the Master’s love. He is certainly here too, of course, celebrating with us all. I can just see his ecstatic face beaming down upon you. All his friends in Jerusalem send greetings. Here comes Abigail now to have a share of you before Rafael whisks you away.

Oh Mary, I’m all mixed up, whispered Shana. I have known Rafael for so long and I still find it hard to think of him as . . . anything more than my closest friend.

Darling, our good Lord gave you unimaginable delights to share with your husband. You just go and enjoy yourself and don’t worry about a thing.

Mary flitted away as Abigail took her place, a matronly pillar of wisdom and no-nonsense common sense. She took Shana’s hands, steadying her, and said, You will learn many new things now as a wife, and soon-to-be mother I hope. Some things will be easy and natural and some more difficult in this new phase of life. Always remember that in the kingdom of God, with every hardship there will be joys to more than make up for it. It will be worth every sacrifice you might have to make for your husband’s sake. Live for his blessing and you will be doubly blessed yourself. Our Lord be with you.

A momentary shadow dimmed Shana’s fragile confidence. Abigail’s words seemed to have a prophetic ring she surely did not intend. Hardships, sacrifice? Hadn’t she had endured enough of those already?

Rafael returned and claimed Shana’s hand. It’s time, my love, he said, drawing her away.

Faces everywhere – loving, familiar faces lit up in the blazing torchlight, shining with goodwill – swirled around her as she followed her husband to the bridal chamber, a room set slightly apart from the banquet which Rafael had converted for the occasion. Escorted by the friends of the groom and the maidens, the door was opened and a plethora of gentle hands ushered them in, each bestowing a blessing.

Rafael closed the door behind him, abruptly separating them from the excited clamour just a few feet away, and turned to gaze at his bride with bold admiration. Gone was his former respectful restraint; on the contrary, he seemed so sure of himself that it made her uncomfortable. She backed away and stood against the far wall, glaring at him. The large bed dominating the small room made a blunt statement. She hated that it had to be like this, that the moment you were married you were expected to set about the business of begetting, and it seemed the whole of Israel waited at the door to make sure it was done! She hated being stripped of her spontaneity and volition and expected to submit to what tradition prescribed, while outside the old men made suggestive jokes and the young men laughed.

Suddenly Rafael was no longer a friend but a husband empowered by the iron fist of social order, and with a flutter of panic she realised she had just given him control over her life. He owned her, had even paid for her, and now it was too late, she was his possession.

Rafael smiled across at her, unperturbed. I have a present for you, he said. He took something out of his sash and threw it across to her, saying, Catch!

It was a small white stone. She stared at it blankly until the memories came rushing back: the two of them as children – she taller than he for a short while – the games they used to play at their secret meeting place, the Big Tree, where they went to escape from the other children. A white stone had been their signal to meet at there.

Rafael laughed and eyed the high rectangular window above the bed. You go first, he said.

A rush of wicked glee replaced Shana’s misgivings. She tossed the stone back to him, which signalled agreement, and stepped up onto the bed, waiting for him to hoist her up so that she could flatten herself onto the window ledge and slip through the opening. With a struggle, Rafael wriggled himself through after her, and they crouched together in the shadows behind a spreading shrub from where they could see the activities through the leaves, lit up in a blur of flickering movement. Rafael threw a dark cape around Shana’s shoulders and took her hand as they ran lightly across the field behind the house into the shelter of the forest.

As soon as Shana felt the familiar path beneath her feet and the caress of cool forest air on her cheek, a wild joy took hold of her, and she began to run like a prisoner released. Dark shapes of trees flew past as she ran, as swift as a deer in the dappled moonlight, and once she was a safe distance away, her tinkling laughter escaped on each panting breath. She heard Rafael giving chase close behind her and let out small screams as she weaved between the trees so that he lost the track and fell behind, then caught up with her again.

In full flight, Shana stumbled over a root and pitched to the ground, rolling into the grass in a knotted heap of garments with Rafael sprawled next to her.

Got you! he shouted, scrambling to his feet and scooping her up in his arms. He carried her to the outer edge of the forest where the great old oak, the Big Tree, now lay fallen like a toppled monument to the passing of time. She could hear the thumping of his heart against her ear and breathed the sweet, damp smell of his sweat. Brilliant stars spun above her and sparked between the leaves, intoxicating her with a wonderful madness. He set her down on the massive tree trunk, and she threw off the cape and shook out her hair, which fell in dark, gleaming coils over her shoulders. Rafael stepped back to gaze at her and catch his breath. Cool, fragrant air rose from the undergrowth, causing her white garments to shimmer and swirl around her. She stretched her silvery arms to the sky in an attitude of spontaneous praise, dazzled by moonshine, drenched with love. The luminance of his gaze transformed her into a wondrous being, more beautiful than she had ever been before.

He untied the thongs of her sandals and took one little foot in his hands, raised it to his lips and kissed the slender ankle, first one and then the other. He lifted her hands and placed soft kisses on her wrists and along the inside of her arms, sending thrills through her body. With his fingers threaded through her hair, he gently kissed her temples, eyelids, cheeks, and lingered on her lips. He claimed her with kisses, and her essence flowed towards him.

Come with me, he whispered, and led her to the shepherd’s hut nearby that belonged to his father’s friend. In the moonlight shafting through the door, she saw that he had prepared a bed of hay, strewn with petals from the rockrose bushes.

His love-making was tender and considerate, she did not know it could be like this; how unlike the violent passion of that one night stolen with her cousin Haziel, which had caused so much heartache.

Later, she lay in her husband’s arms, listening to the throaty rumble of his voice as he drowsily thanked God for his bride and the intimacy they could share, and fell asleep in a stupor of contentment. Gone was the pain of her past, the struggles and mistakes, when she had felt so lost, afraid and rejected, for she was no longer alone and now she was safe under the shelter of her husband’s protection. Life was just how she had always wished it could be, and she was very, very happy.

CHAPTER 2

SHANA OPENED HER EYES to a chorus of full-throated birdsong. A cool breeze blew open the door of the hut and let in the thin dawn light. She sat up and drew her hair around her nakedness, strange in Rafael’s presence. He looked so boyish in his sleep, with one arm flung out in careless abandon and the other still around her waist in a slack embrace. The intimacy of their wedding night caused a surge of melting tenderness to flow towards him, together with a delicious sense of belonging which had not been present in their friendship. This was surely the ‘one flesh’ marriage bond spoken of in scripture, which represented the spiritual union between Messiah and his bride, the Church, in the coming age.

Rafael awakened, smiled sleepily and reached out to pluck a straw from her hair. We have guests waiting for us, my beauty; sadly we must hurry back before they discover the bridal chamber empty. Can you imagine? He pulled her into his arms and the rumble of his laughter vibrated in his chest. I would much rather stay here with you, but we’d never be forgiven!

He thrust her aside and began to dress. Quickly now, before they think we’ve run away.

Shana pulled on her gown reluctantly. She too would have preferred to remain here in the quietness of the pastureland, where they could relish their first experience of uninhibited love, but they could not stretch their impropriety any further, and besides, she wanted to see Mary and Abigail before they returned to Jerusalem.

The all-night party revived when she and Rafael turned up just after sunrise, dusty and crumpled as though returning from an early morning walk. Many of the men had slept for a few hours wherever they had found a spot around the courtyard, and the women, who had gone home to sleep, were returning now with baskets of fresh bread, fruit and cakes, together with a trail of revitalised children. Beth and Milcah arrived with Mary and Abigail, bringing some of Shana’s things for her new home.

It was a long morning, and Shana was more than relieved when the last of the villagers finally left, well after noon. Her face ached from smiling, and she had begun to feel fragmented, as she always did after too much jollity. Thankfully, the celebrations did not continue for several days as was customary in the cities, for the peasants had their crops and livestock to attend to.

Rafael left her at the door of his house with her bags and baskets, saying he had some things to sort out at his shop while she settled in. Happy to be alone, Shana stepped inside. This humble stone-walled home was hers now – this her palace and she the queen. She threw off her grubby gown and sandals, released her hair from its restraints and, after taking a wash, dressed more comfortably in a simple robe. Bare-footed, she ambled dreamily around the two small rooms, examining each object in turn and running her hands over the smooth wood of the furniture Rafael had crafted himself. It was a plain, rather bare little house, a bachelor’s abode, filled with essentials but lacking the element of homeliness. A slender water pitcher stood in one corner next to the wash bowl, in front of which hung a shabby curtain draped back with a cord. There were a few small pots on a ledge near the hob – she would need a bigger pot – and some chipped earthenware bowls. An old armchair, which had been passed down by a wealthy relative, stood a little lop-sided next to a stool, and a goatskin mat lay upon the beaten-earth floor.

The second room, the bedchamber, was curtained off with a striped rug hanging from a low beam. Two wooden chests stood side by side at the end of the bed, one of them open with a few garments spilling out, the other brand new – Rafael’s wedding gift to her. She could smell the sweet scent of the freshly carved oak.

Shana picked up a crumpled tunic off the floor to add to a pile for washing and packed her clothes into the chest. Then she began to rearrange the furniture, grouping the few pieces differently and standing back to view the effect. She moved the table nearer the door so it would be closer to the courtyard fire, and looked around for a hook to hang her cloak on but found none.

What are you looking for, my love?

Rafael’s deep voice startled her. He stopped in the doorway and looked around in surprise, perhaps a little irked at the changes. Having lived alone for a long time, he probably had his things just the way he wanted them. He regarded the table with his eyebrows raised.

Oh, I always . . . he began, but quickly gathered her in his arms and covered her face with kisses. She waited for him to release her, because she was eager to go on with her home-making, but he had something more amorous in mind.

It was often like this in those first weeks of marriage. Rafael would pop in during the day with the excuse of fetching something for his shop or come home early in the evening and reach for her, until sometimes when she was busy with her housework and did not want to be disturbed, she would feel a small twinge of dismay when she heard his step outside the door. To her mind, love-making should be left for night time after the chores were done, and there wasn’t the possibility of someone knocking at the door.

Can’t you wait until later? she said to him once when he took the dough from her hands in the middle of her bread-making and began to kiss her neck.

I’ve waited all my life; isn’t that long enough? he laughed as he swung her off her feet and carried her, struggling and giggling, into the bedchamber. But since then, he had obligingly contented himself with watching her from his chair as she went about her business, sometimes tapping his foot impatiently.

It was a happy time as each of them made incremental adjustments in their shared life. He accepted that his morning meal would be later than he was accustomed to, and not always at the same time. He liked routine; she hated it. He was always punctual and she was always late. Conversely, she was tidy, but he created muddles, never putting things down in the same place and forever searching for lost items.

Every evening after dinner, they would sit down together, Rafael in the big armchair and she on the stool, with a lamp burning on a box between them, and he would read to her from scrolls he had copied from the synagogue. He loved the scriptures, especially the writings of the Prophets, and would read out detailed prophecies, penned centuries before, which had now been fulfilled with the birth and death of the promised Messiah. Rafael and his friend Nathan were the leaders of a small community of villagers who followed the Way – the way of Yeshua the Messiah. Rafael's passion for Yeshua amazed Shana, considering he had never met him in the flesh as she had. It bore testimony to how the Lord was able to reveal himself by his Spirit. Shana had been highly privileged to have known the Rabbi Yeshua personally and to have travelled with his entourage. Rafael never got tired of hearing about it.

Try to remember word for word exactly what he said, he asked her. It’s important to write it down for time to come so as to continue his teaching.

I’m certain the Eleven will record it and I would rather trust their memories, said Shana, referring to the Master's group of chosen disciples. But he repeated much of what he taught so some things I will never forget. For example, he often said ‘Deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me.’ None of us knew at the time that he was going to die on a cross, but I still wonder what exactly those words mean for us.

What was it like to follow him in person?

"It certainly wasn’t always easy. At times we couldn’t help thinking he invited trouble rather than avoided it, but none of us dared question his direction – he had the kind of authority . . . that a king has. Anyway we loved him so much