Buying Your Granddaughter

By Alan Rafferty

‘Buying Your Granddaughter’ is a gripping story of women wrestling power for themselves in First Century Palestine in order to survive at a time when women are traded and sold like chattels.



Tabitha needs a man to save Miriam, her granddaughter, but not just any man. She needs Ezekiel, the man she hates most. Ezekiel sold Tabitha’s maid, Tira, into slavery to another Hebrew tribe and Tira was killed. The Romans are hunting Miriam as her husband was a Zealot in the Judean Revolt. Tabitha plans to have Miriam bought as a slave and supposedly sold to a Gentile so that she can be taken to safety. Ezekiel is the only person short of a real slaver who can believably do this. Can they pull off Tabitha’s audacious plan or will their personal enmity destroy the mission?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Conrad Press
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781839782091

Book preview

Priestley.

1

It was a cold late winter morning in the hill-top town of Sychar in southern Samaria. The Roman Empire had just entered the third year of the reign of the Emperor Vespasian.

Ezekiel awoke in a cold sweat to find his daughter, Rachel, anxiously tending him. ‘Are you all right, father? Has the fever returned?’

Ezekiel was disorientated to start with, wondering where he was. The room was familiar, with its pallet bed with a thin straw mattress on and nothing else. Hardly enough room for his anxious daughter to be kneeling by the bed. It was a small room with a small, high window, as he preferred. He had been used to sleeping in such rooms all his life even though he had been wealthy all his life. His father had been a wealthy merchant but had wanted Ezekiel to get used to what he would have to use when travelling. He now felt more secure in enclosed spaces even if he could afford more luxury. It came back to him. He was at his daughter’s house. This was where he was living now.

The house was a large house, on a single storey with the usual flat roof, as befitted a rich merchant. There the normality stopped. It had a large, enclosed courtyard in which the carts were kept, and a barn housing mules and oxen. The mules were used to pull the smaller carts and oxen to pull the larger ones. A warehouse dominated one corner and a high wall surrounded it. The gate was solid iron with two strong bars to keep it closed.

The house was shared by Ezekiel, Rachel, and Rachel’s children; Alexander who was twenty and Helen who was eighteen. It could have housed more people comfortably, but this was the limit of the household, not counting the servants.

Ezekiel knew what had disorientated him. It was the dream and then seeing Rachel. He had seen Rachel’s mother in his dream. She had died young and Rachel was a carbon copy of her except that Rachel’s eyes were blue, the same colour as his, not her mother’s grey. Many Jews from elite Naphtali families had some Greek features; a legacy of the barely acknowledged intermarriage with the Greek invaders of three centuries back. In Rachel’s case, with her long black Mediterranean hair; pale skin which was almost white; classic nose and wide mouth you could be forgiven for thinking that she was Greek. She was tall and still slim and athletic, despite two children, and looked younger than her thirty-six years.

She took after her mother’s family, as had David, her brother. Apart from the eyes. His blue eyes excepted; Ezekiel carried no mark of his partial Greek heritage. He was short and stocky and of the usual Middle Eastern dark complexion. He had a bend in his nose and heavy eyebrows that made him look like he was always brooding. His face was still a little drawn and sallow from his illness. That, along with the greying hair made him look older than fifty-four.

‘Are you alright, father? Has the fever returned?’ Rachel repeated.

‘I’m all right.’ Ezekiel sat up on the bed, turned sidewards to face Rachel, and stretched out his legs so that from the knee onwards they gently sloped to the floor.

‘Was it one of your dreams then? I thought you didn’t get them anymore.’

‘How do you know about my dreams? Never mind, don’t answer that.’

Rachel and her twin brother, David, had somehow always been able to find out secrets. By the time they were four it had been impossible even to give them surprise birthday presents. It was Pagan to celebrate birthdays but, even as a Jewish merchant, Ezekiel had had to deal with Gentiles. Their children got birthday presents, so his did. He had always indulged them after their mother died giving birth to them. The only thing that he had not given them was his time. He regretted that now, but it was too late to go back and amend.

‘Was it Tira again? I thought she gave you comforting dreams.’

‘Yes, it was Tira, but she was not alone. Your mother was with her, and your grandmother and…’ Ezekiel hesitated. ‘And David.’

‘He is dead then?’

‘It would seem so.’

Rachel sat on Ezekiel’s lap, put her head on his breast and wept. She had not done that since she was a child. Ezekiel put his arms around her, holding his precious daughter tight. It brought back memories. She had always done this, not only when she was upset, but when she sensed that he was troubled. She had had an uncanny knack, even as a quite young child, of knowing when he needed comfort. It was the thing he had missed most when she had left.

After a while, Rachel spoke. ‘I am sorry, father, I know how much you, like me, adored David. It was never likely that he survived.’

‘No, it was never likely. It is a comfort to know that he is with them there though. But that is not what troubles me. Something has happened. They would not tell me what, but I could feel their unease. All they said was, Tabitha needs you. You must go to Tabitha. You must hurry.’

Growing up Rachel had only ever heard Tabitha’s name uttered once. A new servant girl who hadn’t known, had mentioned her. Ezekiel’s reaction had stunned everyone. ‘I despise that woman. If you ever say that name again you will be dismissed without recommendation. Get out of my sight.’ Ezekiel had never spoken to any servant like that before and he never did again. Not whilst Rachel was at home.

After Rachel had arrived in Sychar, over twenty years ago, she had met Tabitha and they had become good friends. Photina, who she was staying with, had explained her father’s reaction.

‘Tabitha’s husband, Jonah, had come back from following Jesus and had started up his business again. Ezekiel lost all the trade in Galilee south of Capernaum. When Jonah died Ezekiel expected Tabitha to sell out to him. She did not. Like me, she carried on, running the business herself. What’s more, she succeeded. Hurt Ezekiel’s pride.’

She also learnt that Tabitha hated her father. Why was one secret that she had never learned. Photina had warned her not to ask or even let on to Tabitha whose daughter she was. It had been a surprise, then, to get an urgent summons six months before from Tabitha. Rachel’s father was in Jerusalem and very ill and needed her.

Rachel had gone, of course. There had been a palpable atmosphere of tension when she arrived. She could have cut it with a knife. She had asked discreetly but no-one knew why. They said that they didn’t think that it was anything to do with trade. Ezekiel and Tabitha had respected each other in that. There was something else. It was strange that Tabitha had insisted on nursing Ezekiel herself, despite whatever it was between them.

Rachel had nursed him until he was well enough to travel, then brought him back to Sychar. They had loaded him onto a cart, covering him with a light blanket and hid him with empty sacks. Ezekiel had become agitated. ‘Am I dying?’

‘No father. The Romans are killing anyone they find with the sickness to stop it spreading. You must stay hidden and still and quiet until we reach Sychar.’

Once in Sychar, she had nursed him completely back to health. He had mentioned Tabitha only once, telling Rachel that he had met her by chance whilst looking for David. A hopeless task but one he had to try. He had then stayed and worked with her in Jerusalem. It wasn’t until later that each realised who the other was. ‘I had despised her.’ was his only comment.

Rachel had noted the regret in his voice and the use of the past tense. She had decided to chance it, ‘She still hates you.’

‘Understandable,’ was the only reply she got.

Rachel broke out of her reverie. ‘I will send Alexander with you. It is not safe; you will need an escort.’

Ezekiel started to protest but quickly realised that Rachel’s mind was made up. As with her mother, it was never possible to dissuade Rachel once she had set her course. Her mother’s name had been Rachel as well, he mused, following the custom of naming the eldest daughter after the mother and the eldest son after the father. He had refused to name his son Ezekiel hoping to prevent his curse passing on to his son.

Ezekiel and Rachel roused everyone else in the house, set the servants to making breakfast, and then went to wash and dress themselves. After breakfast Ezekiel ordered his large merchant’s cart loaded to the brim with provisions. It was a six wheeled, articulated wagon designed to be drawn by oxen. Two thirds were to be in merchant sized quantities and one third in quantities that would normally be sold retail. This raised eyebrows because everyone knew that Tabitha was well supplied with regular deliveries. Ezekiel was pleased that he had thought to bring his merchant’s cart back with him following his trip home to Galilee a month back.

The preparations took into the late afternoon. By that time, it was too late to set off. Rachel wouldn’t let Ezekiel help because of his recent illness, so he was left fretting and thinking all day, just watching whilst extra clothing plus a couple of shovels in case of mud were loaded. In another month there would have been sacks of goods ready to transport but usually one didn’t trade in winter, so all the sacks had to be made up from scratch which is what really took the time.

2

In Jerusalem, Tabitha had also had a restless night. She had no dreams, but a letter that she had received from Mary in Magdala was the stuff of nightmares. Mary’s mother, Mary, had been a follower of Jesus. Mary senior had taken Tabitha in when no-one else would. Tabitha’s granddaughter, Miriam, was now in danger. After the Judean revolt had been put down and Jerusalem sacked, the Romans had rounded up all known Zealots in Judea and their families. Even the families of dead ones. Those that could be were sold into slavery. Those that could not be used were killed. Even though Galilee had not been part of the revolt they had begun rounding up Zealots and their families there.

No-one would have guessed, had they not known, that Miriam was Tabitha’s granddaughter. Tabitha had classic Judean looks whilst Miriam was typically Naphtali. The black curly hair, deep brown, almost black, eyes, slightly wide nose; full lips and darker than usual complexion gave Tabitha distinctive looks. Any Jew looking at her would instantly recognise her Davidic descent. She was late fifties and carried her years well, though with a little extra weight than she had had when younger. A closer inspection would reveal a slightly dropped left shoulder and distortion to one side of her lip. Miriam looked Greek. The only thing that would have made people think was her darker skin colouring.

Miriam’s husband had been a Zealot. Though a Galilean he had been in Jerusalem when Jerusalem was besieged. Nothing had been heard of him since. Miriam was an attractive young woman with an infant daughter. There was no doubt in Tabitha’s mind as to what use her pretty granddaughter would be put to. The infant would be killed. Miriam had fled her home in Capernaum and taken refuge with Mary in Magdala. She was acting as a kitchen slave. As slaves were seldom noticed she would be safe for a while, but not for long. Her presence also put Mary in danger.

Thinking of her granddaughter started Tabitha thinking of Ezekiel. Thinking of Ezekiel led to painful memories. Try as she might, though, she could not dismiss them. It was strange how memories from a few days ago could fade but traumas, even from forty years past, remained as vivid as if they had only just happened.

Jerusalem had been her home then. A small two storey house with the standard flat roof. The ground floor doubled up as workshop during the day and dining area at night. If it was a fine day her father would work out in the small yard, sometimes with a jerry-rigged tarpaulin to keep the sun off. Her father was a carpenter but also an adept woodcarver. His skills were in high demand, particularly for synagogues. He would often be away for weeks on end. His ability made the family wealthier than was the norm for a carpenter. Her brother had followed in his footsteps and, if anything, was even more skilled than her father. When she was twelve her father died when a roof beam that two workmen were putting in place slipped and hit him on the head. Her brother had taken over the business and it continued to thrive.

At fourteen, a rich man called Saul had asked for her in marriage. Tabitha had been surprised because of the disparity in wealth. Her mother had been elated, though. What they lacked in wealth was more than made up for by their status, because of their descent. Besides, her mother contended, Tabitha was a beautiful woman and would grace any man’s home.

Saul, although Judean, did not have Davidic descent. He was the eldest of three brothers and had a good reputation. The middle brother, Isaiah, was thought of as weak, but honest. The youngest, Jacob, reputable people avoided. She had not known why, not then. As her brother was going to Damascus to help build a synagogue there, and the family would be away for at least two years, it was decided that they should marry immediately. Her brother provided what dowry he could, but it would not match what the wife of a rich man would normally expect.

As was customary, she was taken to her husband’s home for the wedding feast. It was a full week’s feast. Not only was that longer than the minimum three days of all the weddings Tabitha had been to before, it was more elaborate. There were professional cantors to sing the canticles and wedding songs, of course. All weddings in Jerusalem used professionals, it was expected. These singers were the best, though. The wine was also the best. Not local wine, vintage Shiraz imported from Parthia and Muscat imported from Arabia. There was also meat. Not just one calf or lamb roasting on the spit but a new one for each day of the feast. After the excitement of the first two days, Tabitha found it becoming tedious. The dowry headdress was heavy, and she was expected to sit still and quiet and look like she was enjoying the feast day after day. She decided that the minimum three-day feast was more than enough.

Tabitha let her mind wander, and her eyes. She saw her mother, brother and family in places of honour. It was obvious that they felt out of place and would have preferred to be placed lower down the tables. There was a kindly man talking to them. She asked the steward who he was.

‘That is your brother-in-law, Isaiah; the middle of the three brothers.’

She watched for a time then moved on. On the other side of the room there was a man glaring at her, a bored woman at his side. Was it glaring? More like leering. He saw her looking and smiled and turned his eyes away. The next time she looked his eyes were on another woman. Over the remaining days of the feast she never saw him talk to anyone. His eyes were always on some woman, though, trying to attract her attention. She wondered why her husband would invite such a man.

At last it was over, and she could get back to normal life, she thought. That was when the full impact of her good fortune hit her. The servants expected her to command them and run the house. She was overwhelmed as she had never been in a household of this size in her life. It had two storeys, as most houses did in Jerusalem. There was a courtyard out back with stairs that led to the flat roof. Most of the servants lived elsewhere in Jerusalem and came in on a daily basis, except Sabbath of course. Tabitha had her own bedroom with a low bed and a down mattress. This was a real luxury. Her parents had always shared a bedroom. Also in the room were an open closet for her clothes; a chair she could use if she wished to sew or do anything else in private and a pallet bed with a straw filled mattress for her maid. A large window with wooden shutters opened on to the courtyard.

Saul was kind and employed a steward and, temporarily, a housekeeper to help her understand what she was to do. On realising that she was not ready yet, he also refrained from lying with her.

With her family having moved to Damascus the only relatives that visited were her husband’s two brothers. Her childhood friends were overawed by the house and stayed away. She would see them at the market occasionally and at the Temple on Sabbath. That was something else that was different. Tabitha’s family had frequented a local synagogue and only gone to the Temple on major feasts. Her new husband was often at the Temple twice a week and always on a Sabbath.

Isaiah was amiable but seldom seen. The youngest brother, Jacob, came around often. He was the man she had noticed eyeing up women at the feast. Jacob made her uncomfortable and seemed to be always trying to get her alone, but being her husband’s brother, she did not want to offend him and so said nothing to her husband.

As she resisted being alone with him, Jacob became more and more pushy and aggressive. Then one day he tried to order her maid from the room. The maid refused to go, and Jacob hit her. The maid screamed in pain. Tabitha moved to protect her, and the brother caught her by her dress. The commotion had alerted the steward and other servants, though. Protesting, and threatening everyone in sight, the brother was ejected from the house by the servants. It took three strong men. Then one of the servant boys was sent to summon her husband.

When he came, Saul was angry. Tabitha thought that he would beat her for what had happened, but he did not. He saw to it that Tabitha’s maid was tended to and instructed the servants to refuse his brother entry to the house permanently. If his brother needed to speak to him on any family matter, the master would go to him. He dismissed the servants and turned to Tabitha. ‘How long has this been going on and why didn’t you tell me?’

‘It has been going on since just after our wedding, but I have never been alone with him. I haven’t, honestly. I was