The Missing Madonna - Chapter 3 "Dreams and Morbid Thoughts"

It’s stupid. Ben’s asleep now and I’m in bed beside my sleeping husband. I’m tired and I should have dropped straight off to sleep myself, but now I can’t. I’m lying here on my sleeping mat, I’m hot and now my mind is too active and thoughts are whirring round my head. I feel guilty now that I should be so happy, leaving my mother alone to look after poor Ishmael. I used to carry him around, acting as his poor crippled legs, and when he was with me he could play and join in with the other children. Now he can only leave the house when my mother takes him out and she hasn’t the time. The other children laugh at his twisted legs and I could hit them, but I have Ben to look after now and he takes all my time and energy.

When I told my parents that Nathan wanted to marry me, my mother laughed and asked me who would look after Ishmael then. I don’t think she thought I was serious and she certainly hadn’t bargained on me being ready to leave home so soon. When she saw I meant it, I could tell that she was worried about how they’d manage. How would she be able to keep up her sewing if she was having to cope with Ishmael’s needs every few minutes? She said as much reminding me that we all needed her income as well as that of my father’s market stall if we were to have proper meals and clothes. My father raised his voice for the first time I ever remember and rebuked her, saying that if what I said was really true and Nathan was seeking me as his wife, that this was an opportunity that should be seized. I’d be unlikely to receive a better offer than this. It was a golden chance to raise the family up in the world, to be related to a family from the synagogue. He thought it was doomed to failure, he warned me, Nathan’s parents would never allow it, but he would not stand in my way.

And so it became public. Nathan let it be known among his friends that he was seeking me as a wife and of course this became common knowledge immediately putting his parents under great pressure to agree. They could continue to argue that I was of the wrong tribe, my parents were not Levites as they were, and that Nathan should maintain the purity of their family line. But these days those traditions were already breaking down, especially in the growing city of Jerusalem. I know Nathan’s father wanted him to become a scribe in the Temple there, and marrying out of the line would jeopardise his chances, but Nathan had already confided to me that he had no wish for a scribe’s role. It was boring and he wanted to remain in the fresh air undertaking honest toil and growing crops and herding sheep and goats like most of the other boys who were learning alongside him at the synagogue.

Zechariah and his wife Martha had been strongly opposed to the marriage when Nathan first told them of his wish. It took nearly three months of arguing before they began to realise that Nathan was not going to back down. At last they caved in and sent for my father and decided to make the best of it. They told him that they were willing to consider a betrothal only on the grounds of the friendship Zechariah and my father had formed over many years of meeting daily at the market stall. So I was betrothed immediately after I became of age and we were married a year later. Zechariah and Martha pretended to be pleased and told everyone that we had known each other since we were both tiny children. We'd always been intended for each other despite the difference in our families’ status.

Martha made it her business to instruct me in my wifely duties in no uncertain way and told me clearly that my first priority was to produce a son for Nathan and a grandson for them. It was clear to me that only that would establish my status as their son’s wife. When they found that Nathan had eventually made me pregnant they were delighted. However, I know my own mother was very worried on my behalf because I was still only fourteen and small and she was concerned that I would find it difficult to give birth.

It is true that I suffered a lot during the later stages of my pregnancy becoming very tired and struggling to carry out all my duties, especially the fetching of water. Nathan was most considerate and even fetched water after dark so that he would not be ridiculed – he didn’t want his mother especially to have any reason to criticise me. The birth itself was agony – I never believed anything could be so painful despite everything my mother told me. The labour went on for hours – they say it often is with the first child – but eventually dear Benjamin came into the world and when they put him in my arms and told me that he was a healthy boy, I was so relieved and proud. Martha even kissed me and told me that I was a good wife to her son!

My mother had been with me throughout the labour assisting the midwife, although she found it difficult looking after Ishmael at the same time. The midwife got cross when he kept getting in the way, falling over when he tried to stand and look closely at what was happening, although at that stage there was little to see. In the end he was banished to squat in the corner and threatened with dire punishment if he moved again before the baby appeared. At one stage my mother cried and said that she had expected it to be my older sister, Rhoda, that she’d have been helping first in childbirth. But just when she was reaching marriageable age and my father was beginning negotiations to find her a suitable husband, she’d fallen sick with a virulent fever and had succumbed within a couple of days. When she said this I cried a little too, because I remembered how shocked and frightened I’d been when Rhoda was taken so ill. She’d looked after me when I was little and I couldn’t believe I’d never see her again. And seeing my mother and father crying, that was strange and unnerving. I’d never seen a grown-up cry before and it made me very confused and added to my own grief.

All these thoughts were whirling through my mind and I suppose at some stage they merged with my dreams in sleep. I remember struggling and screaming and clinging to my sister as her body lay wrapped in a white cloth, but I’m sure this never really happened. My mother told me later that she was worried that I’d never allowed myself to grieve properly for my sister’s death; that I’d bottled it up and that my face had just clouded over whenever her name was mentioned; that I’d never cried but just seemed withdrawn.

Then we were in the meleé in Jerusalem and we were being tossed around by the soldiers, they had my sister and were throwing her in the air, then they grabbed me and tossed me to the sky and I was falling, falling… then I was awake again. I remembered the fear. It must somehow have been about the time I was in Jerusalem with my father and I saw the riot I don’t know what caused it – but I saw the soldiers come and saw them slash at people with their swords and I saw one man with his arm bleeding and another screaming, blood pouring down his face. My father grabbed me and pushed us through the throng and I remember bouncing in his arms as he ran out of the city and didn’t put me down until we were outside the city wall and on the road back to Bethlehem. I’m sure my sister wasn’t with us, so I’ve no idea why she was in my dream.

I’m not sure why I’ve woken up - whether it was my dream or whether Benjamin stirred and alerted me - I’d better get up and look. Ah, he’s alright I think. He seems to be sleeping peacefully now. I don’t know what time it is. It’s pitch dark and I can’t hear any movements outside. I must try to sleep again or I’ll be tired all tomorrow.

The dream has disturbed me. As I lie down again, the events of that horrific day - it must be over seven years ago now because I was only eight or nine then - come flooding back to me. The sheer panic I felt as we got surrounded by soldiers and the crowds trying to escape from them trampling each other, people falling over and getting crushed, while my father lifted me up and tried to escape from the throng. And the noise - the cracks of the soldiers’ whips, the screams and bloodcurdling shrieks of people the swords had slashed, the total confusion. I’ve never really understood what it was all about. I’ve only been into Jerusalem twice since - I’m scared to, in case I get caught in a riot again. Father tried to tell me that it was an exceptional event, that he’d been to Jerusalem many times and although there were always Roman soldiers about, that was the only time he’d seen crowd violence.

Then other bad things came into my mind - I don’t know why I’m feeling so morbid with my gorgeous son and husband both sleeping so peacefully beside me. I remember the time that I was ill - I must have been about seven years old I think - and they thought I was going to die. I remember my mother holding my wrist and squeezing it so tightly that it hurt and when they thought I was asleep, I heard her talking to my father and saying that she was frightened that they were losing me and he must rush and find another physician straight away.

And then, just before I got married, when I had to rescue Ishmael from a group of soldiers. He’d been attracted by their uniforms and one of them was on horseback and he’d gone too close to have a look. One of the soldiers yelled at him to get out of the way and because of his legs he wasn’t quick enough and one soldier picked him up and flung him into a ditch and was going to strike him when I yelled and rushed to stop him, putting myself between the soldier and the boy. I remember shouting that he was a cripple and how dare he hit him and afterwards when the soldiers had gone, I trembled all over and nearly fainted. Miriam’s father brought us both home and told my mother how brave I’d been and mother was so polite to him, then scolded both of us when he’d gone for being so foolish and warned us to stay away from soldiers.

And then my thought roamed to the time of the great famine when it was so difficult to buy bread and everyone was hungry, how worried my mother and father were and how thin we all got. I can remember crying a lot because the hunger pain was so bad and Rhoda telling me not be such a baby, we were all suffering just the same and no-one else was crying. That time I heard my father say that at least it was the one time we were thankful for the Romans being there, as they’d arranged relief supplies from their country far away across the sea where apparently they had grain to spare. That was the only time I ever heard him say anything good about the Romans, although he didn’t usually say much out loud like some of our neighbours did, always complaining about what they were doing in Jerusalem and also about our King Herod who wouldn’t stand up for us but was too much a friend of the Romans.

I don’t know how much longer I was thinking like this, whether I finally got to sleep, for before I realised it, I heard movements and saw the beams of light shafting into the room and watched Nathan as he slipped from his cover and began to dress ready for the fields. It’s my duty to get up and prepare something for him to eat before he goes out. I feel sleepy still and hope that Benjamin does not wake until Nathan’s away so I can concentrate on my husband first. Ah well, at least it’s daylight now and I can banish all those dark thoughts from my mind. I wonder if there’s any news of Mari and Joseph yet. Perhaps someone at the well this morning will have found out something…