Miriamne the Magdala-The First Chapter in the Yeshua and Miri Novel Series

By JB Richards

"The Yeshua and Miri Novel Series is a historical-fiction novel series that follows Jesus and Mary Magdalene during the so called "missing years" and throughout their lives. The introductory novel, "Miriamne the Magdala", explores the deeply personal relationship between twelve year old Miriamne and her long lost cousin Yeshua bar Joseph. Their tale begins with an unexpected reunion of two Jewish Houses and goes on to explain how a family brought together by a seeming circumstance is ultimately tied together by Destiny. When a family tragedy strikes, and Yeshua and Miri are placed in a dangerous situation, heavenly forces intervene and a divine legacy that must be kept secret to all but their closest family members is revealed.

From the time of his familys return from Egypt to Nazareth, Yeshua has grown up shunned and reviled by the townsfolk of his step-father Josephs home village. Questions surrounding the authenticity of his parentage along with the strange and unpredictable supernatural powers that seem to control Yeshua have the people of the tiny backwater town suspicious and frightened.

When Yeshuas mother, Mary, sends a letter to her dearest cousin pleading for help for her gravely ill husband, Miriamnes mother, Salome, instantly responds. Soon, Salome and her husband, Micah along with their three children: Martha, Miriamne, and Lazarus set out for Nazareth on a mission of mercy. During the familys stay, an old but avid argument causes major upset, especially for young Yeshua who loses control of His staggering powers. As a result of the calamity, the angry townsfolk pounce on the opportunity to band together with their rabbi and the Elders Council to banish Yeshua from Nazarethforever.

Once Yeshua is forced to relocate from his familys home to his cousins huge country estate near Sepphoris, the developing friendship between him and Miriamne flourishes. But just when things seem so hopeful, a sudden turn of events causes Yeshua to choose between taking His own action to avoid a terrible tragedy and His obligation to obey His Heavenly Fathers wishes.

When an astonished Miriamne learns of Yeshuas true identity and His Mission on this earth, she must then decide whether to continue her relationship with Him or risk losing Him to His Fate. The pressure reaches a breaking point when Miriamnes wealthy uncle, Joseph bar Abram, and his Caravaneers arrive for a family visit, and Yeshua is presented with a rare opportunity that will take Him far, far away from her . . . quite possibly forever. It is then that Yeshua must make a life-altering decisionwhether to follow His heart or fulfill His Destiny.

"The Yeshua and Miri Novel Series" sequentially includes the following five novels:
"Miriamne the Magdala" released in April, 2015
* "Yeshua the Christ"
* "Thomas the Twin"
* "Mark the Scribe"
* "Princess Sarah"

* Publication dates to be announced.

Related Subjects

Jesus Christ
Mary Magdalene
Gnostic Gospels
General Christianity
Fiction Subjects

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503548404

JB Richards

JB Richards graduated with Honors from Notre Dame College in Manchester, New Hampshire. She holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in Psychology and History. She is a lifelong resident of Manchester, New Hampshire, where she resides with her husband Daniel and son Matthew.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Marketplace

Do try to keep up, Miri! Martha whined as she yanked the shoulder of my tunic. I had just bent down to tie the loose straps on my right sandal. Honestly … You are forever lagging behind! she huffed.

I never seem to tie my straps the right way. No matter how tightly I cinch the laces, they always come undone!

Frustrated with her bullying attitude, I looked up at her and sneered. The combination of brilliant sunlight and fine dust blowing up from the column-lined street was irritating her hazel eyes, and she resembled an irritated old Abyssinian cat as she crossed her arms and looked down her nose at me. Naturally, I stretched out the time I needed to accomplish my task, determined to show my elder sister that, despite her insistent claims, I was most certainly was not hers to control!

Oh, do hurry, Miri! She placed her hands squarely on her hips. There is too much to see and do here, and I do not feel like lollygagging about just so you can keep adjusting your wardrobe. Honestly … You are forever lagging behind!

I am going as fast as I can, Martha, I impatiently replied, doubling the length of time it would have taken to tie my laces had she not pestered me in the first place. Would you rather I rush and let my laces come loose again?

Martha stopped tapping her foot. "I would rather you be done!"

Oh, just let me be, I begged as I rolled my eyes at her then tied a double-bow knot to keep my straps from unraveling again. You need not miss anything on my account. Why not go ahead without me?

That ought to keep her off my back!

My sister, Martha Mary bat Micah, was prone to fussing and fuming at even the tiniest disruption to her pampered, self-important life. I was only two years younger than Martha, but ever since she turned fifteen years of age I had become her very own Personal Project. In her eyes, I was her charge, her pupil, her protégé, her puppet, her lackey, her slave. She was always hovering over me and bossing me about—criticizing the way I did things and advising me on how to live my life. My poor mother constantly scolded her for being too overbearing and spiteful, and this upset Martha to no end since she felt she was simply being a good role model and doing everything for me that an elder sister should.

Truth be told—there were times I actually enjoyed testing my elder sister, but there were days when my younger brother Lazarus and I would hide from her for hours on end just to avoid being lined up and critiqued in the same manner my father, the Commander, used to line up his troops for inspection! In public my sister’s hounding was becoming much more difficult to tolerate. Why, one time Martha was so obsessed over my appearance, she snatched my rehala—my veil—right off my head!

It happened during a lavish banquet the Commander and my mother were hosting for their dear friends Roman Centurion Crassus Draco Cyprianus, familiarly known as Draco—the Dragon—and his esteemed wife Guilia Lorenza Ephesius. The couple had recently been to Rome where the Centurion had been awarded the Gold Crown by Octavian—the Emperor of the Roman Empire. This prestigious award was given to Centurions and Principales who had killed an enemy—or enemies—in single-handed combat then held their ground to the end of the battle. For the Dragon, the honor had been a long time in coming—nearly a decade—and the Commander was delighted to host a banquet in honor of his comrade’s achievement.

At our home in Bethany, an auspicious suburb of Jerusalem, we all stood in line—the Commander, Ima, Martha, and me—awaiting the arrival of Draco and his wife and greeting our guests as they entered the Banquet Hall.

Why did you wear that shabby old rehala? Martha asked as she jabbed me in my ribs. There is a loose thread hanging from its tip!

Well, there is little I can do about it now, I told her as I reached up to tuck the long thread underneath my veil.

Apparently, my solution to the problem was not enough to satisfy my neurotic sister. After greeting only a few more guests, the thread happened to come loose again, and she insisted I excuse myself to go fetch another veil.

Preferably a blue one, she snootily added, criticizing my choice in trying to match my veil to my pink-and-burgundy silk robe.

When I chose to ignore her, and stayed to greet the next guest, Martha promptly stripped me of my veil—right then and there—in front of Guilia Lorenza, Draco, Ima, the Commander, and all our other esteemed guests!

I was simply mortified!

You cow! I hissed at her as I ran from the room covering my exposed orange tresses with my hands. Needless to say … I did not leave my bedchamber for the remainder of the evening.

From that moment on—I promised myself—I would never again let Martha get the better of me. And while I was making pledges to myself, I decided to dedicate my entire life to irking my nemesis each and every time I got the opportunity to do so! Certainly I was never outwardly mean to her, and I never, ever thought about doing her any sort of physical harm. But I did take a certain amount of satisfaction out of making Martha’s life just a little bit more miserable whenever the opportunity presented itself by using a much more subtle means of revenge—something that went beyond her basic perception … something innocuous … something irritating … something that I alone could savor. The Commander called it passive aggression—using an indirect resistance to the demands of another in order to avoid a direct confrontation—like taking a little more time to tie my laces.

Come along, girls! Ima called back to us over her shoulder. She was standing at the first pillar of the Colonnade—the expansive column-lined, cobblestone-paved Main Mall that ran through the center of the newly renovated city of Sepphoris. The Marketplace has been open since early morning, and I am afraid we may be missing out on the freshest produce!

Coming, Ima! Martha and I sang out in unison.

Martha hated it when I happened to say the same thing as her at the same time, and she swung her head around and wrinkled her nose at me as she made a snorting sound.

Old nag! I returned her smug look with one of my own … Basically, I stuck my tongue out at her.

She-Goat, Martha cussed.

Cow, I responded as nonchalantly as I could.

Humph!

I smiled to myself, knowing that she could not think of a better retort.

Oh no! Ima gasped. For a moment, I prepared to be reprimanded by my mother for engaging in such lowly behavior in public. Instead, she swiveled her head around as she jealously eyed two heavily veiled young women shuffling away from a vegetable cart occupying the nearest alcove. The two girls appeared to be only slightly older than Martha and me, and they were carrying baskets filled with fresh young greens and fragrant herbs. There goes my produce!

Shalom, the two young women said to Ima as they passed us by with a respectful bows of their heads.

Shalom, Ima responded with a smile and a quick nod. She continued smiling at them long after they moved on, and Martha and I both knew she was imagining herself in the very uncharitable position of stealing their baskets of goods right out from under their pretty little noses. Sure enough, when Ima turned back toward us, and her eyes met ours, she seemed to know what we were thinking. Her cheeks turned a bright cherry red as she placed one hand over her heart and whispered to us, Imagine what the rabbi would say if I accosted them simply to swipe their greens!

The three of us broke down in a fit of giggles as we pictured Ima before Rabbi Hanani, the eldest of the three rabbis who served the good citizens of Sepphoris, struggling to explain how such a wealthy and noble woman—not to mention a mother of three children—had turned into a coldhearted thief over a bunch of mustard greens and a few handfuls of fresh basil!

In the midst of our laughing, I happened to notice another pair of eyes watching the women as they made their way up the wide-columned avenue. Our escort—Cousin Joshua—was tracking the two lovelies with a firm and steady eye.

Joshua bar Zamir was a distant cousin of my father’s. He was a bonded servant—part of the Household Staff—at our estate. As usual, he had been assigned to accompany us to the Marketplace and then escort us safely back home. Joshua, however, seldom remained with us as we shopped, preferring to give us our space while he kept watch from a distance. It was an amicable agreement between him and Ima; Joshua had the freedom to converse with the other young men from the surrounding towns—and perhaps sneak away for a goblet or two of local wine or a tankard of sekhar in the Tavern, while Ima took her time strolling about the endless carts, shops, and displays lining the Colonnade. As long as we were all reunited when the time came to head back home to the Khaveelah—the Villa, all was well with the world, and the Commander knew no different.

Shalom, Mistresses!

The two young women gave Joshua a quick sidelong glance and batted their lashes at him as they passed by. In turn, he gave the pair of veiled beauties a respectful bow of his head before he lifted his eyes and winked at them.

Tee-hee! Tee-hee-hee!

The two young women broke out tittering. Fluttering their skirts like two silly geese ruffling their feathers, they quickly whispered something to each other before they flocked together and hid themselves away in a large brown tent at the other end of the Colonnade.

When Joshua turned around and saw that my attention was on him, he gave me a rakish smile and a quick wink before he hurried off in their direction.

I shook my head and chuckled under my breath. Like a rooster chasing after hens!

Meanwhile, back at the vegetable cart, a plump old woman dressed in a rose-colored tunic and blue woolen tzaif—a shawl—tended to a display of baskets, crates, and jars holding all manner of freshly picked early-spring herbs, seasonal vegetables, fruits, and berries.

Shalom, Mistress, the old woman said as she came around to the front of her cart and greeted my mother.

Shalom, Ima responded. Such a lovely day for shopping, is it not?

The old woman nodded amicably before the two of them started a conversation on the weather which somehow led Ima into a commentary on the quality of the old woman’s produce.

I cannot believe the variety of herbs and vegetables you have here. The recent rains and warm nights have certainly helped things grow much earlier than usual!

With every remark Ima made on the brightness of the greenery, and the freshness of the produce, the old woman’s face lit up more and more. Every item you see here was picked fresh this morning, Mistress, the old woman announced as she brushed her dewy hands on the front of her apron. Ima pawed through the baskets of fresh herbs that were sorted into bundles and bound with bits of twine. We have dill, rosemary, chives, thyme, and sage, the old woman explained. May I help you find something special for your supper pot? Or perhaps you would prefer some lavender to make a lovely sachet to scent your clothes. Ima’s attention was immediately seized when the old woman selected a large bunch of lavender sprigs and pushed them under her nose. Just breathe in this wonderful aroma, Mistress!

Ima inhaled deeply. It certainly is delightful, she replied with a grin. How much?

The old woman looked at her thoughtfully before she replied, "I have very much enjoyed talking with you, Mistress. You take that bundle with my thanks. It is not often that I meet a noblewoman such as yourself who bothers to compliment one—such as myself. I am grateful that you hold me in such high regard, and speak to me as an equal, Mistress Salome. May HaShem—the Lord—bless your House."

Ah! You remember me, Leah?!

Everyone in Galilee knows of Commander Micah bar Abram and his lovely wife Mistress Salome, Old Leah remarked. We would be fools indeed if we did not recognize one of our own countrymen when we see them.

Ima bowed her head and lowered her eyes for a moment—a gesture of gratitude. "Toda lach—thank you. You are most kind, Leah. I am happy to be back home."

I welcome you here then, Mistress Salome! Old Leah peered over Ima’s shoulder and pointed her finger at the three of us. I see that you brought your children along with you today. She studied Martha and me with admiration. Your husband must be so proud of these fine and graceful young beauties. She then turned her gaze to my brother and clasped her hands together over her heart as she gushed, And of course, this must be the Commander’s son, Master Lazarus!"

Hearing his name, Laz took only a moment to grace Leah with a quick glance before he unceremoniously smacked himself on his cheek trying to hit a stray fly. I could almost hear Martha in my mind as she looked upon him in horror …

Ugh! You silly oaf!

I simply chuckled to myself as I thought, How genteel are we?!

If I may be so bold, Mistress Salome? The old woman waited for Ima to give her a permissive nod. Your son is the spitting image of the Commander when he was a boy: a fair and strapping young lad!

Ima’s cheeks turned pink again. May I tell you a secret, Leah? Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she discretely raised her hand up beside her mouth. The old woman leaned forward over the herb basket separating them, and when she was within earshot, Ima whispered to her, I am afraid young Master Lazarus inherited the Commander’s wicked disposition as well!

Ah ha ha ha!

The old woman laughed, and as she rocked back on her heels, her beady grey eyes disappeared into the soft folds of her cheeks. "It is a Mitzvah—a Blessing—that the Commander has had plenty of experience training young men to be self-disciplined and adroit."

Just between you and me, my friend … Ima cocked a discretionary brow, and Leah moved closer, Micah will have his hands full training that one—she pointed to my brother—just as his own father had such a difficult time getting him to behave properly!

Old Leah and Ima paused to look at Lazarus for a moment. He was stomping about, trying to eradicate an unfortunate group of ants that had wandered his way. The two women glanced at each other and simultaneously broke in a fit of giggles.

Oh my goodness, Ima said, wiping her eyes with the tip of her veil. I have not laughed like that in quite a while.

I am happy that I was able to bring some cheer into your day, Mistress Salome. I know these past few months have been difficult for you and the Commander. It cannot be easy to uproot your lives and move your family away from a city with the splendor of Jerusalem to a humdrum place like Galilee.

Ima looked at each one of us in turn before she responded, "Truly, it has been difficult for the children to adjust to country life, but we are determined to make a home for ourselves here. As Hekatontarchus of the Hyperatai—Commander of the Holy Temple Guard—Micah was averse to taking an early retirement, but he understood the need to continue his father’s legacy. So many people depend on us for their subsistence now that Abram is gone, and we will not shirk our duties or disappoint them. She nodded once decisively before she added, Bethany was the home we took when Micah joined the Temple Guard, but the Khaveelah—the Villa—is his ancestral home, and now, it is our home. The welcomes and well-wishes of our neighbors are a Mitvah to us, and we are honored whenever our friends and neighbors wish us well."

Very well stated, Mistress Salome, Leah said as she wiped a tear from her eye. Very well stated indeed! Mazel Tov—may HaShem’s blessings be upon you!

You are most gracious, Leah, Ima said as she held the corded bundle of lavender up for Leah to see. "Toda lach—thank you—for your kind gift. I will tuck this in a vase next to my pillow, and when I lay my head down to say my prayers this evening, I will think of your kindness and generosity."

Welcome home, Mistress Salome, Leah said with a sniffle. "Bevakasha—please—pass along my blessings to the Commander as well."

I certainly will, Leah … Shalom.

Shalom, Mistress Salome.

Just as Ima turned to leave the old woman, I noticed a glint of light coming from a highly polished stoneware bowl perched neatly in the center of the cart. I was certain that the bowl was a new addition to the old woman’s wares, for it had not been there before. The contents would have struck me immediately.

Well, will you look at that? I thought to myself in amazement. My favorite fruit!

My mouth watered as I fixed my gaze on a lovely grouping of ripe yellow pears artfully arranged—all stem side up—in the center of the bowl. They were fat and juicy and had my mouth yearning for their honey-sweet taste.

But how did they come to be here so early in the season?

I was stymied, but I had no time to ponder the issue further, for Ima was already chomping at the bit, urging the three of us to push forward into the Main Mall.

Oh dear, so much of the better produce has already been selected, she fretted to herself. She stood up on tiptoes to eye some plump, overripe early-tomatoes on a cart that was only two stalls away. I promised Haggah that I would find a decent selection of vegetables for tonight’s supper.

It was not at all unusual to have more than one produce cart at the Marketplace, and Ima perused the Mall in a single frantic glance for another one.

The Colonnade’s Main Mall was very crowded, for the Marketplace was not only open to merchants and tradesmen who came from such faraway places as Greece, Persia, and Syria; it hosted a greater number of local villagers from surrounding towns such as Cana, Nain, and Nazareth who made a very good living selling all kinds of farm goods and homemade crafts. With a steady influx of wealthy nobles and politicos popping in and out of King Herod’s expansive new palace, and Roman soldiers traveling through the area either on their way to their new posts or back home to Italia, enough money could be made to support the local population of tradesmen and their families. Why, a farmer who was lucky enough to have reaped some extra crops, or a craftsman who was clever with his hands, could grow quite wealthy bartering or selling their goods at the Marketplace!

Hoping to expand her shopping options, Ima was spinning around in circles as she looked for her next target. Just as I opened my mouth to suggest we move forward toward another cart with a better selection of tomatoes, her gaze settled on a large ivory tent with bright and colorful woven goods lining the walls. It was a Weavers’ Tent, and it sat at the far end of the Colonnade.

Girls, we must make a stop there later, Ima intently remarked as she pointed toward the ivory tent. Martha and I rolled our eyes and groaned, for we knew our mother would probably have to stop at every single cart and stall along the way.

It is going to be a very long day, I thought to myself as I checked my sandal strap again to make sure it was still securely tied.

When I stood up straight, Martha whispered in my ear, We are probably going to have to take lunch here, and you know the food here is inferior for it is —made by peasants.

What is wrong with that? I asked her.

Martha tsk’d at me in annoyance before she responded, Peasants do not wash their hands, Miri! As my eyes opened wide in disbelief at her audacity, Martha wrinkled her nose in disgust. How very vulgar!

Ima took no notice of us, for she was much too wrapped up in the visions of new clothes and blankets dancing before her eyes. As if she needed a more valid reason to visit the Weavers’ Tent, she remarked, I would like to look for some new shawls and veils for you girls. Goodness knows your old ones are fraying beyond belief!

I took a moment to check the ends of my veil, just to make certain there were no frayed ends hanging down. Noting my concern, Martha laughed at me under her breath as Ima prodded us along.

Come along, girls, we have so many pretty things to look at! Ima hardly looked down as she leaned over to grasp our little brother’s hand. When she tried to pull Lazarus up, however, he remained rooted to the ground. Come along, Little One, Ima beckoned him with another slight tug on his hand.

But Laz was too occupied—crouched down on the ground and completely inattentive to everything except the happenings in his own little world. He was the King of the Ants, poking and prodding the scurrying insects with an old twig he had scavenged from somewhere along the roadside. When one of the tiny black creatures dared to wander up his royal scepter, he shot a missile of spittle that sent the poor little ant hurtling back down onto the pavement. Fascinated, Laz watched the beleaguered creature trying to right itself and escape the pond of sticky fluid, but its six lanky legs wriggled in vain as the ooze kept the diminutive soldier glued in place.

Lazarus, leave that poor creature alone! Ima cried. And stop spitting! It is a disgusting habit and I simply will not have it!

Veni, vidi, vici! Laz the Unmerciful shouted at the ant. I came, I saw, I conquered!

"Oh clap your hands all you people!

Shout triumph to the Lord!

Oh, clap your hands all you people!

Sing praises to the Lord …"

Lazarus froze in place as he spotted a tall lanky boy—about my age, or perhaps a year younger—standing opposite the vegetable cart. He was singing to himself in a beautiful clear voice as he leaned against one of four dried-out cedar posts supporting a faded rose-colored tarp. Under the makeshift tent, an exhibit of exquisite stoneware vessels and carvings were displayed for sale. Another young man—about twenty years of age or so, and as handsome as King David himself—was sitting at a polishing wheel, finishing off an intricate scroll pattern on a white stoneware bowl. The man was vigorously striking the pedal of his grindstone as he kept time with the boy’s tuneful psalm.

"Sing praises to our Lord the King!

Sing praises to the Lord!

God reigns over all you people!

Sing praises to our King …"

The youth promptly halted his singing when he noticed that he had just gained an audience, but the man at the grinding wheel merely continued his labor.

Shalom, the boy said as he gave Laz a dazzling smile. He noticed Lazarus staring at the item he was holding in his hand, and he held it out to show him what it was. There, in the center of his palm, was a white marble dove he had been polishing with an old chamois cloth.

Oooh! Lazarus cooed, transfixed by the beautiful stone bird.

With Ima’s attention drawn away by some passing shoppers who stopped to greet her, Laz absently started toward the boy. But the boy quickly raised his dark brows and held up his index finger, motioning for my brother to stay his position. He quickly shoved one end of the chamois cloth into the frayed rope belt around his waist as he kept his sparkling eyes affixed to the carving in his hand and petted the little bird on its head as though it was alive. Lazarus was completely taken by the boy’s performance as he raised his open palm up to his mouth and whispered something to the little stone bird. With that fanciful gesture, the boy garnered my attention as well. Laz and I were enchanted as we watched him lift the stone bird high into the air and whirl it around in a wide circle over his head. By the time he landed the little bird on his shoulder, Laz was already laughing out loud at his silly antics.

When the boy covered up the little dove with his hands, Laz’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. The boy mimicked his deflated expression before he suddenly opened up his hands … and for an instant … just an instant, I was flabbergasted …

Did I just see feathered wings fluttering?!

I blinked my eyes in confusion as the boy clasped his hands over the dove. When he uncovered the little creature again, I gasped. It had changed back to stone!

Wait … What just happened?!

Lazarus and I were simply astonished, and the two of us stood there with our mouths hanging open, wondering if we had really seen what we had seen … wondering if the little stone creature really had come to life before our very eyes!

We hardly had time to ponder the question further, when Ima woke us from our trance. Lazarus, come with me, she beckoned as she tugged on the shoulder of my brother’s tunic. When Lazarus ignored her and kept his place, she followed his line of sight to the boy with the little stone dove. Whatever are you looking at, Son?!

Gasp!

The moment Ima’s eyes rested on the boy standing in front of the Mason’s Tent, she dropped her market-basket on the ground.

Yeshua bar Joseph! Praise HaShem! Is that you?!

Shalom, Mistress Salome, the boy said as he dropped his chin shyly and looked up at my mother through his long dark lashes. Welcome to Sepphoris!

Martha and I saw our mother’s eyes well up with tears as she began to laugh and sob all at the same time. The boy’s dimpled face lit up with yet another dazzling smile, and when he ran over to Ima, she spread her arms out wide.

Oh, Yeshua, it is you! Ima cried as she closed her arms around the boy, squeezing his slim frame so tightly against her bosom, I feared he would either snap in two or pass out from lack of air! It is so good to see you, Dear, she said as she dabbed her tears with the tip of her veil. She took the boy’s face between her hands and peered into his soft amber gold eyes. I cannot believe that you are actually standing here before me, Yeshua! She anxiously peeked around his shoulder to search the Marketplace. But where is your mother? Certainly, you are not here alone!

Overcome with curiosity about this young stranger, I quickly came to Ima’s side, leaving Martha and her gawking face standing by the wayside. While Ima and the boy spoke together, I noticed Lazarus’s longing eyes pinned to the head of the little stone dove peeping out from between the fingers of the stranger’s right fist.

How does this boy know my mother? I wondered to myself as I considered his manner and dress. Truly, it shocked me to see Ima address a commoner of the Marketplace so familiarly, let alone embrace him so heartily … especially in front of the elite of Sepphoris!

This boy … this Yeshua appeared to be a Mason’s apprentice. The man working under the rose-colored canopy was not old enough to be the boy’s father, and so I reasoned that he was probably an orphan—, bonded to the other young man to learn a trade. Certainly this boy was no more than twelve or thirteen years old—a perfect age for a novice apprentice—and he was wearing the telltale goatskin apron of a tekton—a common stone worker. His clothes were severely worn and appeared to have been passed down by several generations of older boys, for his light grey wool tunic had been mended many times over—spotted here and there with stains that had been scrubbed but never completely removed. As for his personal hygiene … Well … The boy was entirely covered in stone dust from head to toe. Even the true color of his curly black mane was subdued by a fine grey dust of what I assumed to be limestone or chalk!

When Ima finally released the boy from her grasp, his tunic and apron were left in such disarray he was forced to shift his modest clothing back into their proper place. After taking a moment to catch his breath, the boy raised his soulful eyes to Ima’s, but his face fell flat and his eyes went wide when he saw that much of the thick layer of dust permeating his own clothes had been transferred onto my mother’s costly garments. Her expensive lily white linen tunic from Egypt, and her beautiful Persian pink silk veil, both costly gifts from my paternal grandparents—Saba Abram and Savta Esther—may they rest in peace—were as good as ruined!

Slih’a! Yeshua gasped. Forgive me! His eyes fell to the ground as his cheeks flushed red, and his bottom lip disappeared into his mouth. I had never seen such a sorrowful expression, and I felt his embarrassment as he juggled the little stone bird from hand-to-hand, wiping the dust from his palms onto his apron.

Ima graciously ignored the dust on her clothing as she reached out and cupped the boy’s chin in her hand. For too long, I have yearned to be reunited with you and your family, Yeshua. There is absolutely nothing to forgive, for I am simply overjoyed that I am able to look at your sweet face and hold you in my arms once again.

Toda lach, the boy replied with a somewhat shy and crooked grin. Thank you.

Ima promptly placed her hands on the boy’s narrow shoulders, and she pulled herself up on tiptoes to plant a kiss atop the mass of dusty curls crowning his head. The boy’s face lit up with a smile that rivaled the light of a thousand noonday suns.

My arms will never be closed to you, Yeshua bar Joseph—nor to any of your brothers and sisters. You are my dear, dear family, and I am overjoyed to see you standing here before me. Ima’s eyes filled with mischief as she cast him a sidelong glance and teased, "Ani ohevet otcha, Yeshua—I love you, Yeshua—even with half the desert’s sand coating your skin!"

Family?! Did Ima just say, ‘family’?!

The boy chuckled modestly. His expression was one of gratitude as he leaned on his left leg and placed one sandaled foot atop the other. Feeling at ease once again, he relaxed and his arms fell loose at his sides as he held fast to the little stone bird cradled his left hand.

My mother will be very pleased to see that you have come here to Sepphoris, Doda Salome.

Doda Salome?!

I gasped in astonishment.

How can Ima be this boy’s aunt?!

Just who is this boy, this Yeshua bar Joseph?!

CHAPTER 2

Yeshua bar Joseph

Yeshua bar Joseph …

Could this possibly be the son of Ima’s long-lost cousin from Nazareth … Mary bat Joachim and her husband, Joseph bar Jacob?

For as long as I could recall, not one person in my immediate family had ever spoken of Ima’s cousins from Nazareth, and so I knew very little about them.

Ima’s grandparents, Mattathias bar Levi and Sarah bat Aaron, had died many, many years ago—long before I was born. The couple had three girls: Elizabeth, Anne, and Ruth. Ruth was Ima’s mother.

Both Savta Ruth and Saba Levi—my maternal grandmother and grandfather—had died only a decade ago, and there were still rumors circulating that they had been killed during an uprising in Galilee—when the old city of Sepphoris was sacked and looted. My sister Martha remembered our maternal grandparents but only vaguely, and I knew almost nothing of them except for a few precious stories Ima had told us about her childhood in Nazareth.

My great-aunt Elizabeth, on the other hand, I knew well—along with her son, John bar Zechariah. They were both from Cana. The year before last, Doda Elizabeth and my cousin John came to stay at our home in Bethany. Since John’s father had died when he was an infant, Doda Elizabeth had asked my father—the Commander—to sponsor her son at his Bar Mitzvah. She had arranged for one of the rabbis at the synagogue in Bethany to perform the ceremony, but the Commander insisted that John’s Bar Mitzvah take place at the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. As the retired Hekatontarchus of the Hyperatai, Abba was given great consideration by the High Priest, Annas, who personally presided over the rite. Doda Elizabeth had been so proud that day, and it was a shock to our family when only a few months later we received word from young John that his mother had died. Ima had written to John, asking him to come to Bethany to be with our family, but John never wrote back. The last we heard, he had gone to eastern Judea, where he was taken in as an initiate by a Jewish religious sect known as the Essenes.

Although I was aware that Ima had another aunt named Anne, who was married to a man named Joachim bar Samuel from Nazareth, I had never really given her much thought. I had met neither her nor her family, and up until today, I had no idea that any kindred of Ima’s, other than my cousin John, still lived in this world.

At first glance, one might have confused this Yeshua with a common beggar boy, for he was so very thin, and his clothes were so dusty. If I had not noticed him standing under the Mason’s Tent, I would have assumed he was just another poor orphan seeking alms from the patrons of the Marketplace. Certainly, this scrawny and hapless boy was not the type of person who would be related to our family!

Then again … upon closer examination, I found something quite intriguing and recognizable in the features of this boy’s gentle face …

Abba, Martha, and Lazarus were each clearly descended from our Savta Esther’s line with their strong Hellenistic features: their fair skin, their wheat-colored hair, and their sparkling hazel eyes. I, on the other hand—with my sun-kissed skin tone, brown eyes, and high cheekbones—had always been likened to my mother’s side of the family. And despite the unusual hue of my persimmon-colored, thick, wavy hair, I found the truth of that comparison standing before me in the form of this young peasant boy. Aside from the curly mane of jet-black hair that crowned his head, Yeshua’s sun-bronzed skin, light chestnut-colored eyes, high cheekbones, and two vertical dimples placed exactly in the center of each rounded cheek, were all distinguishing attributes that had been passed down to me from my mother’s line.

If you like, I can take you to Ima right now, Doda Salome, the boy offered happily. She is working here at the Marketplace today.

Ima pointed her chin toward Martha, Lazarus, and me. Well, Yeshua, your cousins here will certainly want to meet their Doda Mary. It has been quite a few years since we have all been together, and a family reunion is long overdue.

We stared at the boy as he offered each of us in turn a polite dip of his head.

I had to admit, Ima seemed a bit anxious over seeing her cousin after so many years apart, for she was nervously primping and preening herself in preparation for her presentation to Doda Mary. She made certain her hair was appropriately tucked under her veil—although there was not a single strand sticking out in the first place, and she licked her lips and pinched her cheeks to bring out their rosy color—even though she blushed brightly every time Yeshua gave her a reassuring smile. But when she smoothed out the front of her beloved white-and-pink silk robe, she suddenly recalled just how dirty her clothes had become due to the greeting she and Yeshua had so avidly shared.

Oh dear! Ima gasped as she tried in vain to brush away the sooty patches of grey stone dust. At first, she was clearly upset, but when she glanced at Yeshua and saw the guilty look on his face, she threw her hands up in surrender and began to laugh. Perhaps I can convince your mother that I have been working as hard as you have been, Yeshua, Ima joked. She playfully tried to pinch our cousin’s cheek, but he was too quick and agile for her. When he ducked his head down and threw up his hands to fend her off, Ima grabbed his wrist instead, and that was when she spotted the charming little stone bird held fast within his grasp. Ah, Yeshua, I see that you have been a good apprentice to your father, she remarked as she tried to examine the sculpture inside Yeshua’s fist. May I?

Yes, may we th-ee the little bird? Lazarus asked excitedly. Speaking in his characteristic lisp, he added,. Bev-ah-kath-thah?!

Of course, Yeshua replied as he steadied himself. He unwound his fingers in order to allow us a good look at the exquisite marble carving perched in the center of his palm.

Gasp!

Martha could not believe her eyes. Ima, this is an idol! she hissed. It is an item forbidden to be crafted by the Halakhah. How is it that a Jew may own such a thing and not be held accountable by HaShem?

Ima gave Yeshua a reassuring look as she calmly replied, Know this, Martha—whatever Yeshua deigns to craft is good, and whatever He chooses to make with His hands should be looked at as HaShem’s own work.

HaShem’s own work?! What does she mean by that?!

Martha thought no better than I. But, Ima—

Hush, Martha, Ima interrupted, do not be rude.

Although Martha’s eyes pleaded with our mother for an explanation, Ima ignored her and said nothing further on the subject. It was most confusing, for we knew that it was wrong for a Jew to carve statues of living things, and I pondered on why Ima would allow Yeshua such leeway. But she had spoken, and we were bound to obey. Besides … seeing Martha put back in her place was a good enough reason for me to accept such a thing—at least for the meantime.

Laz stood up on tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the stone dove, and again, he cooed, Oooh!

Indeed, the intricately detailed stone sculpture was quite extraordinary! The hand-carved white marble dove had been perfectly polished to a high luster and the proportions of the little bird’s body were perfect. Its breast and back were featureless—as smooth as glass—and the eyes, wings, and tail were carved in a bas-relief style so that they stuck out from the dove’s head and body just as they would on a real live bird. Tiny cuts carved into the marble gave the impression of feathers on the wings, feet hidden under the breast, nostrils imbedded into the beak, and eyeballs that could actually see. Had I not known better, I would have believed the boy had actually captured the little dove and had somehow turned it to stone!

Truly, this is a work of art, Yeshua, Ima marveled. Your father must be proud to have such a gifted stone carver among his sons.

Yeshua’s eyes sparkled with pride as he responded, Toda lach, Doda Salome. Bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet, it was obvious to all of us that our cousin could hardly contain his pride.

Bev-ah-kath-thah, Yeth-oo-ah … could I hold the little bird? Laz asked as he stood beside Yeshua, squirming excitedly. Bev-ah-kath-thah, bev-ah-kath-thah, bev-ah-kath-thah … May I?

Lazarus, hush, said Ima as she quickly reminding him of his manners with a stern look. As expected, Lazarus responded with a curt sniff and a dreadful pout. Do you not remember what Ima told you before we left home, Child? Laz cocked his head to the side and looked up at her uncertainly. She furrowed her brows sternly and pointed her index finger at him, wagging it up and down to punctuate each uttered word. "You-may–look, Lazarus, but–do-not–touch!"

With his bottom lip protruding as far out as it could go, Laz clasped his two hands tightly behind his back as he turned his longing gaze back to the little bird roosting in Yeshua’s palm.

Yeshua seemed touched at how much Lazarus was taken with the precious figurine, and he spoke up. Doda Salome, would you mind very much if I gave this pet to your son to look after for me?

Lazarus’s melancholy mood disappeared as he gave Ima a hungry look. At first, she shook her head, but a scarcely hidden smile told us all that she was having second thoughts about allowing him to accept Yeshua’s kind gift.

We did not realize it at the time, but Yeshua noticed Ima’s ambiguity as well, and seized the opportunity to sway her over to his side. With his charming manner and gift for imagination, he held our attention as he worked his magic to ensure Lazarus would end up with his little pet bird.

Hear me now, my friends and neighbors, gather ’round to hear my tale! Yeshua stood tall and waved his free hand up in the air as he called out to the crowd milling about the stalls and carts around us. . Come … Come, now! Hear my woes.

A group of curious people shuffled over to us as Yeshua began his tale …

Every day, I must attend to my duties here at the Marketplace, and alas, I am much too busy to take care of a fledgling dove chick! Yeshua issued forth a dismayed sigh before he went on. Surely, I cannot take time from my labors and allow my family to go hungry!

Some of the people in the crowd nodded while others pointed at Yeshua and spoke softly to one another. I had a feeling I knew what Yeshua was up to, and I leaned down to whisper in my brother’s ear, Do not fret, Lazarus, Ima may yet take Yeshua’s offer to heart.

Laz looked up at me with renewed hope, and he grinned wide as I gave him a reassuring pat on the top of his tawny head. When I turned my attention back to Yeshua, I noticed that he was ogling me with a fixed stare. Unnerved, I quickly looked away from him and pretended to be interested in … well … anything else but him.

Yeshua chuckled to himself under his breath before he continued his pitch.

Let those of you who love animals hear me now! he called out. You see, this little bird here loves to sing and hop about, but I am afraid I simply do not have the time to either teach him to fly or keep him properly entertained.

A few people chuckled—seeing the absurdity of training a rock—while still others called out suggestions on how best to help the little dove.

One man jokingly called out, Give the bird to a farmer who can release him in his fields!

Another cried, Better yet, give the dove to an orchard keeper to keep the flies and moths away!

One man’s wife jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. He looked like a dullard as he stared at her blankly. A moment later, he yelled, Give it to Herod to bring him bad luck!

Yeshua furrowed his brows and muttered to himself, Bad luck?! He seemed to take no fear in admonishing the dullard. Sir!

The man’s wife struck the fool on his head with a bunch of mustard greens.

I stifled my laughter as Yeshua pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, eliciting more than a few laughs. He must have decided to ignore the lout, for suddenly he wailed, Oh, what am I to do for my little friend? What am I to do?!

As a few more shoppers slowed their pace to see what was happening, other lingered to heed Yeshua’s intentionally overdramatic performance. He peeked through his fingers and waited for just the right moment before he lowered his hand from his face and looked around at everyone.I can see that you are all fine, upstanding, hardworking, and righteous people, he said, as he avoided looking at the man with the mustard greens still stuck in his hair. However, I doubt that any one of you has the time to care for a baby bird such as this. Yeshua put his hand up as some of the people began to grumble against his assumption. Now, now, he assured everyone, it will take hours and hours, each and every day, for months on end, to give this little dove-chick the proper attention it needs and to make sure it grows up big and strong.

As Yeshua paused to make his point, the crowd appeared to be completely taken in by his little drama. Even I found myself thoroughly invested in his little scheme!

Ha! He has them! He actually has them!

"Alas, it pains me that I am unable to find someone—anyone—who would be willing to open their heart to this poor little orphaned dove. My little friend here deserves a good home, a place where he can be safe and sound before he learns to fly up into the heavens."

Yeshua rounded his shoulders into a slump as he slowly shook his head and stared at the marble statue. His audience followed suit so that everyone was now fixated on the little stone dove perched on his palm—no one more so than my little brother, Lazarus.

I must find someone to properly care for my tiny friend, Yeshua declared woefully. But who can I trust? He raised his eyes up to the Heavens and cried, Oh, HaShem … Who can I trust?!

Yeshua paused and put his hand to his ear, like he was listening for a sign from El Elyon—the Most High, and the crowd watched him with interest, wondering what would happen next.

Hear me, HaShem! Yeshua cried. "I am humbled by Your greatness. Bevakasha, I beg of You … find me someone who will love and treasure this beloved little bird as much as I do. If it be Your wish bring me someone who loves to play, someone who loves to run and jump, someone who can teach my little dove to sing psalms in Your honor, someone who will show him how to fly high up to the sky where he may soar in the glory of Your blessed gaze."

By now, quite a large crowd had gathered all around us, and everyone’s eyes were on Yeshua and the little dove. The people were no less enchanted by his marvelous tale as they were spellbound by his heartfelt plea to the Divine.

Yeshua took a much-needed breath before he settled his sparkling amber gold eyes on Lazarus. He crouched down and asked, "Do you know anyone who might be willing to care for my little pet, Master Lazarus?"

Lazarus’s chubby-cheeked face was glowing with excitement and anticipation. He had already reached the point where he could no longer contain his enthusiasm, and he began to jump up and down in place.

Oh, Ima! Bev-ah-kath-thah, bev-ah-kath-tha, bev-ah-kath-thah … May I help Yeth-oo-ah take care of his bird? he cried out, pulling at Ima’s sleeve between hops. I can do it, Ima! I can do everything that Yeth-oo-ah expects me to do! I can even ask Abba to help me teach Yeth-oo-ah’s little bird to fly!

By the expression on Laz’s face, we could all see that his head was already filling up with makeshift plans and boyhood dreams.

Ima blushed as she tucked her tongue in her cheek and shook her head. However, the pressure of denying Lazarus and Yeshua’s happiness in front of such a large crowd of people was too much for her to bear, and she finally surrendered to the absurd. I suppose we can give it a try, Lazarus.

The entire multitude cheered.

Well played, Yeshua, Ima whispered as she reached out and held our cousin by the scruff of his neck. Well played.

Toda lach, Doda, Yeshua responded with a duck of his head and a mischievous grin. My brother’s expression was one of rapture as he hopped up and down excitedly, waiting for Yeshua to crouch down before him and present him with his prize.

Yeshua extended his right hand, and slowly, one by one, each of his fingers peeled back to reveal the little marble dove. Alright, Lazarus bar Micah, this little dove will belong to you now, he remarked as his eyes tracked Laz’s excited hops. There was no hesitation on Lazarus’s part as he made a grab for the bird, but Yeshua quickly covered up the statuette between his two hands. Wait just one moment, he warned as he held up his index finger. Before I give my precious little friend to you, there is something you must do first.

Anything, Yeth-oo-ah, anything! Laz replied as the frantic pace of his jumping increased. What must I do? Oh, what must I do?!

Well, Laz … this dove is a very small and timid animal, and you must be absolutely calm and gentle when you are holding him.

Ye-th, yeth! Laz gasped as he kept up his hopping. I promise to be calm and gentle, Yeth-oo-ah … calm and gentle!

Yeshua’s brows rose up high as he watched Lazarus jump higher and higher. Finally, Martha rolled her eyes and let loose an exasperated puff of air as she tapped Yeshua on his shoulder and noted dryly, You had better explain it to him, or he will just keep going until he lifts off into the sky.

That was when Yeshua reached out and placed his hand firmly atop my brother’s head, holding him down to earth. Stop jumping, Laz, he said in a fatherly tone. You cannot hop up and down like this when you are holding my dove, or he will be too frightened to stay with you.

With that said, Lazarus realized he had better calm down, or he might lose the opportunity to gain his new pet.

Poor boy, I thought as he stood as straight as a reed, he dares not move a muscle!

The prospect of losing his new pet as a result of his own hyperactivity, however, did not dissuade my brother from asking any questions. Um, Yeth-oo-ah?

Yes?

"Once the dove is mine, what happens if he does get frightened?"

That is a very good question, Laz, and I have seen this happen a few times myself, either when I was too anxious or too upset, Yeshua explained as Lazarus listened intently. If that happens, the dove will tuck his head under his wing and go to sleep—Yeshua paused, and he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper so that only the people who were close to my brother could hear him as he explained—"and he may not reawaken for a very, very long time."

No! Lazarus gasped as his eyes went wide in shock and his mouth fell slack.

Yeshua tried to hide his laughter as he reassured Laz there was a solution. It is alright, Lazarus, because now you have been warned, and now you know to remain calm whenever you hold your little dove.

Lazarus furrowed his brows for a moment as he considered Yeshua’s words. He soon came up with another query. But, Yeth-oo-ah, what about when I am teaching him to fly? Surely, I cannot hold still if I am teaching him to fly!

A pensive expression crossed Yeshua’s face as he paused to consider Laz’s problem. "Hmm … I suppose you will have to move about some as you train your new pet to fly. He tucked his lower lip into his mouth and furrowed his brows for a moment before he placed a supportive hand on Lazarus’s shoulder. I think it would be fine to run around with your little dove as much as you like, as long as you let him know ahead of time that you are about to give him a flying lesson!"

Wonderful! Lazarus cried out. He turned to Ima and said, See, Ima? Now I know what to do, and what not to do!

There was a hint of a smile teasing Ima’s dark eyes, and Yeshua seized the opportunity to move the conversation along before she could change her mind about Lazarus acquiring the responsibility of a new pet. Do you have any more questions, Lazarus? he asked as he held up the dove for everyone to see.

Laz rolled his eyes up to the sky and put his index finger to his temple. He thought for a brief moment before he shook his head. No.

Good boy, Yeshua remarked as he shifted his position and steadied himself on one knee. He held the stone dove securely in his fist as he leaned closer to Lazarus. "Now hold out your hand so your little bird can hop into your palm … And remember, Lazarus—you must remain calm."

With his eyes as wide as two full moons, Laz held his hand out to Yeshua, palm side up, and he nodded his understanding. Yeshua then placed his index finger on his lips as he slowly turned to address the crowd.

Hush now. This is a very important moment. Everyone must remain completely still.

Many laughed, but the people who had gathered around us complied, and one by one, Yeshua cautiously unwound his fingers to reveal the little stone dove.

Now shall we see if my little bird will accept his new master?

Lazarus inhaled deeply and held his breath as Yeshua caused his little bird to skip onto his open hand. But the dove perched only for an instant before it hopped back to its current master!

Gasp!

The people around us simultaneously reacted to the disappointment—none more so than my devastated little brother.

What happened, Yeth-oo-ah?! he cried out. What did I do wrong?!

Seeing the pain on Laz’s face caused my temper to flare. What terrible game is this? How dare this Galilean peasant torment my brother?!

Yeshua’s eyes met mine for only an instant, but I had the curious sensation that he had heard my thoughts. A moment later, I suddenly understood that—to Yeshua—this was all a show … one that everyone could be involved in! Sure enough, I looked up and saw that all around us, everyday folks, nobles of the upper class, and even a few of the King’s guardsmen were muttering and grumbling among themselves. Many more pleaded with Yeshua to release the bird to Lazarus.

He is building their suspense, and thus their support! How ingenious!

Ignoring a few catcalls, and one or two crude comments, Yeshua reached out and cupped Laz’s cheek with his free hand. He explained in a gentle tone, This was not your fault, Lazarus. Do you remember when I told you that this little bird is rather skittish? The crowd went still again as Lazarus solemnly nodded his head. Well, that is why he jumped back to me. He just needs a little time to get used to you, and he needs to be reassured that you will always keep him safe.

Oh I will, Yeth-oo-ah! I will!

Yeshua paused to assess Lazarus’s resolve.

One woman in the crowd vouched for Lazarus’s honor. The boy is kind and gentle, she cried out. Anyone can see that! Give him the dove!

Martha tittered as she leaned over to whisper in my ear, If they only they knew Laz, like we know Laz.

I tried hard not to giggle as Yeshua continued the transfer of ownership.

Let us try again then—shall we? he asked.

Lazarus nodded, and once again, Yeshua proceeded to perch the stone dove in the center of Laz’s hand, but then to everyone’s amazement, the little statuette pulled back again.

This time, everyone laughed.

Yeshua was making a great show of the whole situation, turning it into a folly, a wonderful game that my brother and the crowd would remember. We all hung on a string, wondering which hop would finally result in the little dove’s acceptance of his new master, and with the laughter growing louder and louder, more and more people came over to us to see what was going on.

Through all the merriment, however, Yeshua was aware that the crowd was growing in number, and with high-spirited Galilean peasants in such close proximity to nobles and guards from King Herod’s palace, he knew the situation he caused could quickly escalate and wind up out of control. Even Ima had noticed the crowd’s growth, and her expression became anxious as she placed a protective hand on Laz’s shoulder.

It was time to put an end to the show.

Are you ready, Laz?

Yeth, Laz responded as he stood as still as a statue.

Yeshua made one more skip back and forth, and to everyone’s delight—on the very next try—the little bird finally touched down in the center of Lazarus’s palm.

Did he choose me? Laz asked anxiously. He dared not move as he repeated his question. Did he choose me?

In a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, Yeshua proclaimed the result. Alphun has accepted his new master!

Alphun? What kind of a strange name is that?!

Cheers rose from the crowd, and people congratulated Lazarus on his new acquisition while others thanked Yeshua and commended him for putting on such a wonderful play.

As people resumed their shopping, Lazarus sucked in a deep, deep breath. It took more than a few moments before he finally dared to stroke the skittish creature’s sleek marble breast. Did you hear what Yeth-oo-ah said, Alphun? he cooed softly. You belong to me now!

I could not help but laugh when Laz held the marble dove up to his ear and listened for a response.

Did Alphun say anything to you, Lazarus? Yeshua asked in amusement.

Alphun said to give you his thanks for giving him such a wonderful home, and for finding him such a good master.

Yeshua tipped his head to the bird as he said, Toda raba, Alphun … I shall miss you.

Right on cue, Lazarus brought the stone dove up to his ear again, and a wide grin came upon his face as he listened to the little bird’s whispers. Afterward, he suddenly gripped the dove tightly in his hand and lunged at Yeshua, throwing both arms around his thin waist.

Toda lecha, Yeth-oo-ah! Toda lecha!

It was