The Missing Madonna - Chapter 4 'Feeling guilty'

I’m feeling a bit more lively now. Nathan was very sympathetic when I told him how little rest I’d had and helped me prepare the food he’d take with him to the field. I often wonder if he still enjoys the outdoor life rather than the softer option of becoming a scribe as his father had planned for him, but he assures me he’s happy this way. I know his father still has a go at him about it nearly every time they meet - he thinks his son is dropping his status to that of my family instead of hauling me up to his. Nathan gets quite angry at this. He says what he is doing is providing well for me and our children (our children! We only have one at present but he thinks any time now we may add to our family) and it is a healthier life than remaining indoors all day and just copying out the parchments. His father says he could become a teacher for the younger boys - he would be able to teach Benjamin when he is older - and I think that would be nice too, but Nathan won’t have it and so I keep quiet.

Ben is awake soon after his father has left and I bathe him and let him suckle a while from me before giving him a little of the more substantial food I’ve prepared. Then it is time for us to go and fetch the day’s water. I can carry two vessels now that Benjamin can walk which means that I don’t have to return in the afternoon for a refill unless I have guests for our evening meal - sometimes my mother and father call and join us. Nathan’s parents only came to our house for a meal once, although we regularly are invited to join them in their home. It’s a slow business to get to the well though, because Ben is interested in everything and we never go quite in a straight line! This time he picks up a stick and wants to poke every stone and flower to see what’s underneath. We have to stop outside old widow Sarah’s house to see her chickens - they’re just like ours, I tell him, but to him they are a fresh distraction and he wants to wait until the red combed cockerel emerges from the back yard into view.

We eventually get to the well and find ourselves at the back of a queue of women waiting to draw water. Luckily there are many children playing around and Benjamin dashes off to play with other toddlers and some of the older girls are told to see the younger ones don’t fall over or get into mischief. This frees us women to share the latest gossip, and because there’s not much other news at the moment, Mari and Joseph’s disappearance is still the topic of much speculation, getting wilder by the minute. Apparently there are now at least half a dozen upset men waiting for the implements Joseph had promised to supply. They know I was particularly friendly with Mari so I get pumped for everything that I can remember that might have any significance at all.

I tell them that she has her family in Nazareth in Galilee - they all know that anyway - and that she has a widowed mother and younger siblings and perhaps her mother is ill or her uncle Eli who is a priest at the synagogue there has died because he must be getting to a good age. She had been brought up by this priest apparently after the death of her father and I tell them about the rumour that he was a freedom fighter living in the hills above the Sea of Galilee, one of a band that were taking on the Romans and Herod’s soldiers, and had been killed in an encounter with them. Someone then opines that perhaps Joseph was a secret fighter too and had to escape and I say what nonsense that is, Joseph is the last person to engage in such an enterprise especially with his young wife and toddler to look after.

Then under further questioning I stupidly let out that she thought that Joshua was a special child and that leads to a flurry of questions which I can’t stop. Having already said too much, they won’t stop until they’ve dragged everything from me that Mari ever said, most of which I didn’t believe anyway. They even got me to say that she’d claimed one night that she’d been told that he was the promised Messiah and they’d all been scandalised until I then added that before Joshua was born she’d been a virgin. That was just too much and poor Mari’s name was dragged through the mud. I felt ashamed that I’d let my friend down and was worried what she would say to me if she now returned and found I’d blabbed all her secrets to everyone in the village. Because that was what would happen now - the story would go round like wildfire and get exaggerated (if that was possible).

I tried to say that Mari had only told this to me once and that I didn’t believe her, I thought she was teasing me. She was always saying things like that that seemed odd and I thought she just had a vivid imagination and was a born story-teller. She used to tell Joshua all sorts of wondrous stories - I thought they were complete fiction, just stories to amuse Joshua. I thought they were a bit too complicated and outrageous for such a small child. But I used to listen because she was so enthusiastic and got carried away - it was as if she was really there when she told them. Her eyes used to light up and she would be so happy, then she used to hint at dark things that had happened to her, but she would never tell me what, however much I tried to get her to confide in me.

It didn’t matter how much I protested now, the stories about Mari would fly around the village and when - or if - she came back she’d have a tough time explaining what had really happened and not be the butt of ridicule. Anyway, in the end no-one believed what she’d apparently said about herself, and assumed that their departure must be because of some urgent family misfortune in the north, though why they’d said nothing to anyone was a mystery. It was the general consensus that it must have been at Mari’s instigation because Joseph had no known living relatives and in any case this was his home village. And it was assumed that it was Mari who had pushed Joseph into such a rapid departure without telling anyone - everyone was sure that Joseph would have wanted to stay to finish his commitments. However, many thought that Mari was the stronger character although she was much younger than her husband and that whatever had happened, she would have been behind it.

Someone did mention the visit of strangers to their house a couple of nights before they left, but no-one knew who they were or where they were from and they’d come and gone under nightfall, so it was assumed that they’d been the messengers from Mari’s home village with the news that had caused their sudden departure.

Eventually the interest lapsed and we got on with the tiring job of hauling up the water and carrying it back home. This was the bit I most disliked. The full water pots were heavy and although I tried to balance them using a yoke on each shoulder - one that Joseph had made for me and refused to accept any money for, a gift he said, because of my friendship and welcome to Mari - they dragged and caused my shoulders to ache and Benjamin would keep running off and holding me up when all I wanted was to get home and have a rest before attending to washing clothes and preparing the evening meal. I got quite cross with Ben when he ran off with one of the older girls - I wasn’t pleased with her either because she was encouraging him, and I made a mental note to ask her mother to tell her not to keep playing with the boy when it was time to go.

At least by the time we got back the sun was high in the sky and Benjamin began to look tired after all his exertion and went back to sleep without too much opposition. I took a draught of water to quench my thirst and mopped my brow to remove the sweat and lay down on my mat for a few minutes respite. My unwise babbling to the other women bothered me even more now and I felt a traitor to Mari in letting on so much. After all, it was only once that she had told me about the story of Joshua being the Messiah and that she’d never had intercourse with any man before he was born. Even as I thought about it, I began to wonder if I’d made it up. We’d talked late into the night on one occasion and we were flushed with wine after we’d attended the wedding of a girl in the village and perhaps our heads were spinning a little and I’d misunderstood what she’d said. Afterwards when I’d tried to get her to say more, she’d clammed up and tried to get me off the subject as if she was embarrassed to have ever mentioned it. And now I’d opened it up to everyone. Would she ever forgive me? Could we still be friends? I began to feel sorry for myself. Then I turned and saw Benjamin sleeping so peacefully. At least I had him and Nathan whatever Mari thought. It would be a pity to lose that friendship, but as long as I had my own family, that was what was important. And I turned over and waited for Benjamin to stir…

Meanwhile, back in Jerusalem, Herod was having a disturbed night…