The Missing Madonna, Chapter 22/1 "Racial Tension in Alexandria"

I really think I must talk to Mari about going back to Bethlehem. She won’t be happy about it. We’ve really settled here now and she has made many friends she won’t want to leave. Dora in particular. She’s been such a help to Mari especially when she was so sick when Salome was on the way. It seems hard to believe we’ve been here nearly three years now. Joshua will be five soon, James is chattering away and getting into all sorts of mischief, and Salome has just taken her first steps. But I see some problems ahead and I wonder if we should not try to make our escape back to our home country before worse befalls.

Last night there was a very nasty confrontation between the Jewish and Greek workmen in the Rhakotis area where I work. The Greeks accused some of the Jews of pinching their overtime payments. It was their fault really, the opportunity for additional work on more villas in the south of the area cropped up, and someone told the foreman they didn’t want the extra time, so he gave it to Jews who then worked long hours several days at a stretch. When some Greeks saw our earnings, they got jealous and tried to say we’d cheated them and fights broke out which turned into a brawl. I got away with Philip before a bevy of Roman soldiers waded in and cracked a few heads open.

Unfortunately this has been simmering for sometime. When we first arrived, I was agreeably surprised and thankful when I saw good relations between many races in this very cosmopolitan city, unlike our experience in Pelusium. Life has been difficult but I’ve worked hard and earned enough to look after my family. We did not go short of food or clothing even in the early days for the rabbis at the synagogue and other rich Jews ensured that the newcomers were helped until they were self sufficient. I was loaned money to buy some decent tools and therefore able to join Philip in working in my own trade, even though it was mostly for the hated Romans.

Then last year visiting Jews from Jerusalem brought us the news that at last the tyrant Herod had expired and his son, Archelaus had taken the throne. My immediate thought was to return home, but Mari was pregnant and I didn’t want to subject her to the strains of that long journey unnecessarily. It was different when we came here. I felt we had no option then, our lives were in danger. I still wonder if that was true. I couldn’t risk it though. But now we were not in danger, we had friends and a good livelihood. There was no urgency to return.

Then messages began to filter through of turmoil in Jerusalem. I suppose the usual arguments over succession – these princes seem an ill disciplined lot. I thought it best to stay out of harm’s way until things settled down a bit. I didn’t say any of this to Mari and she seemed quite happy with her lot here. The three children were occupying her pretty well. Joshua in particular was happy here and thriving among other children and often played at the synagogue where one of the rabbis seemed to take a special interest in him and had – even at his young age – begun to teach him about our scriptures and the patriarchs.

So I said nothing, and we progressed another year without too many scares or tribulations. Salome was quite ill when she was only three months old and frankly I thought we were in real danger of losing her. She had such a high fever and cried so much except when Joshua held her. It was very strange, the power that the lad seemed to have over her. He would ask his mother if he could hold her and she would immediately calm down and stare into his face. Mari would then fetch a little water and bathe her while Joshua rocked and sang to her – it was extraordinary. Before you could realise it, Salome would be fast asleep and breathing easily.

So we stayed. I saw that all was not peaceful in the city, but it didn’t affect us. The Romans were everywhere and generally disliked. They threw their weight around but it was mainly the richer Greeks and Jews who resented them most – people who, but for the presence of the Romans, would have been the rulers here. Parts of the city were terrorized from time to time by a rowdy group of youths they called ‘the Mob’. Apparently they were in thrall to some of the merchants and advisers to the rulers who paid them to take out some of their rivals or pay off an old score. It was threatening to get out of hand – there was an incident somewhere in the city almost every day.

Then last week the Mob attacked a Jewish shop – apparently a Greek-speaking Egyptian reckoned he’d been overcharged. I heard during the brawl yesterday someone shout for the Mob to beat up Jewish homes. To cap it all, we found that overnight our synagogue had been disfigured with painted slogans defiling the Jews and telling us to get out of their country. It’s not an emergency yet, but I can see the writing on the wall. I’m going to work this morning, but I shall keep a sharp lookout for brewing trouble and make myself scarce if necessary. I can’t risk being involved and getting injured or arrested and leaving Mari to bring up three young children without support.

Philip and I walk though the city in the early hours amid streams of other workers going through the Sun Gate to the Brucheum and Rhakotis districts. But we are subdued, furtive even. There is tension in the air. Groups of men are watching us. Perhaps it’s just my imagination, perhaps they’re always there and I just don’t notice them. When eventually we reach the building site where we are currently working, there is chaos. Someone during the night has systematically destroyed the work of our last few days. Oaken beams lie strewn about, wooden doors have been wrenched off their hinges and lie splintered on the ground. The supervisor is casting around for someone to blame and we are met with insults, not sympathy. We are instructed to clear the site up and told to repair the damage without pay – in fact we are told that we will get no further pay until we have restored the villas to the state they were before the culprits struck. Who were they? The Romans didn’t care. We were all the same to them. Jews, Greeks, Egyptians, any of us were the criminals and so any and all of us would repair the damage. If not, we were dismissed, as simple as that.

So we slave all day in the heat for no pay. We are too afraid to protest, we know what would happen if we did. We are angry and tired and bad-tempered, but there is nothing we can do about it if we still want paid employment tomorrow. On the way home, Philip and I discuss the situation.

“What are we going to do about it? It could be three or four days without pay before we’re back to where we were. And that’s assuming there’s no more damage. This could go on for weeks unless someone is paid to guard the villas overnight.”

Philip grunts. Then he shakes his head.

“Who knows who did this? What do you think their motive is? Is it someone wanting to get at the Romans and delay more coming here to take over the city or is someone trying to cause mischief?”

Philip has hit on my fear.

“I think someone is deliberately causing strife between the Greeks and Jews. You see, it won’t be long before we’re accused of being behind the damage. Then the Greeks will have a perfect excuse to get us laid off.”

“Will the Romans fall for that one? They’re keen to get the villas finished, there’s still a queue of wealthy immigrants ready to pay good money for these houses.”

“I don’t know. I’m not optimistic. I’m wondering whether we shouldn’t return to Judea while I still have enough savings to cover a lean period while I build my trade back up again.”

“It’s alright for you. You’re near a large city where I’m sure there’s plenty of work. If I went back, what would I do? My brothers were struggling to make a living where they were. I would not be welcome back.”

“Why don’t you come back with us? You could go into partnership with me.”

“That’s generous of you, Joseph. But how do you know there’d be enough work for the two of us? How long have you been away? It must be three years surely. How do you know that no-one’s taken your place?”

“I don’t. That’s a risk I’d have to take. I suppose if I couldn’t make a go of it in Bethlehem, we could always go back to Nazareth up in Galilee where Mari’s family is. When we got betrothed, one of Mari’s relatives gave me contacts and put work my way. There was a lot of new construction work in Sepphoris which was only an hour’s journey distant.”

“There’s a lot of imponderables. It would be a big decision to take. I’m not sure how we would manage now that we have four youngsters. I think Dora would be very sceptical.”

“I’m sure Mari will be too. I’m not going to rush it, but if relationships in the city deteriorate any further, I’m going to give it serious consideration. Why don’t you think about it, Philip?”

We didn’t discuss it any further then. I said nothing to Mari that night, and went back to work the next day. I noticed with relief that a night watchman had been employed and that our previous day’s work was undisturbed. We worked for three more days for nothing. Then there was another attack on the synagogue. A mob of Greeks – rumour blamed the Greeks anyway – came one night and smashed one of the outer walls and smeared pigs’ blood over the courtyard and the walls of the inner sanctum. The synagogue was closed for several days while the mess was cleansed and the synagogue purified. Everyone was angry and there were some in our midst who wanted to retaliate, but no-one was quite sure what target might be most appropriate and nothing happened. People bottled up their anger and quietly seethed.

One evening Mari seemed upset and I asked her what was wrong. Apparently some children had been chased out of the city centre back into the Jewish quarter and one boy had been injured, hit by a stone thrown by a Greek youth. The Romans had ignored a plea for help. Mari knew the boy’s mother and had helped her dress his wounds – a bad cut on his forehead.

“I’m getting nervous about the violence here,” she’d said. “It seems to be increasing every day. When are we going to go back to Judea? I know Herod’s been dead over a year now.”

She’d brought the subject up herself. I’d misjudged her. I thought she’d be loath to leave her friends and the stability we’d enjoyed here. Although, I now realise, this stability is but a veneer, skin-deep. That evening I watched Mari as she went about her domestic duties. I watched how she cared for the children with infinite patience. She’s become a mature woman, in the prime of her life. At eighteen years of age, the strains of childbirth and poverty have not yet coarsened her features. She doesn’t nag or shout at the children as some women do. She listens to them. She seems to treat Joshua as a little man whose opinions are worthy of respect. She is kind and generous to our neighbours and, I discovered, very popular.

I‘m guilty of taking her for granted, underestimating her because she stays here in the community while I venture into the city each day seeing the wider picture, meeting and mingling with the many races in the huge metropolis. And I watch her moulding the lives of our children – is not that of great significance? Some men’s wives are submissive and dumb before their husbands and take out their frustrations in petty jealousies and in the constant scolding of their children. Mari is certainly not that. I treat her as an equal. I value her opinion and I listen to her often, especially on the Sabbath after our meeting in the synagogue. She surprises me often by her comments about what the rabbis have pronounced. She disagrees with them sometimes and when I reflect on what she’s said, I can’t help but think she might be right. But then, of course, she was privileged to have Joel and the other scribes and rabbis in Nazareth teaching her as well as the boys. I know Eli used to think that made her too rebellious. I’m sure she’s not, but she does think for herself and she’s not afraid to voice her opinion.

We don’t often talk about Joshua’s mission. He is a bright boy and despite the attention he gets from rabbi Malthus and the adoration from the other children here and their parents, he’s not spoilt. Mari does talk a lot about him, but she refrains from any claim that he is fulfilling our prophecies, that is apart from an occasional quiet reference to me alone. I watch him playing with James sometimes. James can get very tiresome and sometimes does things deliberately to wind his brother or mother up and I caught him the other day teasing Salome although she is too young to understand much. I suppose it’s normal behaviour for any small boy but I don’t remember Joshua being so awkward or annoying. Perhaps I just forget.

So I broach the subject of going back home to Bethlehem with her tonight. As I said, I’d expected resistance from her. But her comment about the increasing violence in Alexandria had caused me to rethink. She is quite animated.

“You think we should go home? You think it’s time we should be preparing Joshua for his destiny? It keeps coming to me – I keep feeling that the time is drawing near when we should take that step.”

“Are you ready to go, Mari? It’s a long way and we’ve three small children to keep safe and healthy on the way. It’s a risk. You know how we nearly didn’t survive on the way here.”

“But we did survive, Joseph. God looked after us. He’ll look after us again. He’s given us a promise and many signs. You believe it, don’t you?”

“I thought you’d be reluctant to leave here. You’ll be parting from Dora and Martha and all the children. You were sorry to leave Naomi and Anna in Pelusium. I thought this would be much harder for you.”

“It will be a wrench, of course it will be. She’s become such a friend. But I still miss Ruth back in Bethlehem – I wonder if Benjamin has younger brothers and sisters now. And Joshua loved playing with Ben so much – I wonder if we go back whether they will pick up where they left off. And perhaps we can go back to Nazareth, Joseph. I miss my sisters and our Benjamin – he’ll be having his ‘bar-mitzvah’ soon. I worry about my mother. Is Eli still looking after them all?”

“Hold on, Mari,” I say. “We’ve only just begun to talk about going home and you’re ahead of me already. We must think about it. I’ve not decided yet.”