Twenty-Two

There was no conversation after this encounter. "Legion" was childs' play in comparison. Andrew was stricken with the thought that a demon --a demon! Seven this time and a legion of them just before!--could enter a person, simply, it seemed, if the person was not unwilling to let it happen! He wanted nothing more to do with such beings, ever! And yet he was in the business, so to speak, of confronting them and driving them out of people.

He could not do it!

But of course, he could and he would. He would simply have to trust Jesus, who knew that he wanted to be a good servant of his, but did not really know how. He thought back with amused irony at how confident of himself he had been when he was but a fisherman with Simon; but now that he had begun catching men, he felt like a total blunderer!

And a blunderer who had some sort of spiritual disease, he was convinced, though he could not read the symptoms. He could not see why justice was not really justice, and that was the issue, was it not?

Perhaps he had better discuss it with Jesus himself. But he quailed at getting himself into a disputation with him, as if he were a Judas trying to explain to him why he was wrong. Because justice was justice. How could it not be? And yet . . .

Andrew looked over at Thomas, and saw that his hands were actually shaking, and everyone else seemed as unnerved as he was. After a while, a young man, obviously a slave, came up and spoke quietly with Jesus, who nodded, spoke briefly, and then dismissed him.

"I have been invited to dine at the house of Simon the Pharisee tomorrow evening. I told the slave that I would take with me only the Rock, so as not to burden him. We will therefore stay here by Magdala for the next day or two. And since it is evening already, let us find ourselves a suitable place and eat our evening meal."

They found a pleasant clearing in the woods, not far from a stream in which it was possible to bathe, and the women began unpacking the essentials for the meal, while a couple of the men built and started a fire.

They milled around for a time until all was ready, the air full of the smell of woods and of meat cooking, merely exchanging a word or to, because all were still recovering from the close encounter with the powers of hell. It was definitely not a game, nor anything to be tried without being told to do so from Jesus himself; and even then. . .

Eventually, they sat round the fire to eat, Thomas with Matthew and Andrew. "But can you imagine being that woman!" said Thomas. "With those things inside her!" He shuddered again.

"Did they not say that she knew they were there?" said Andrew. "How could she have borne it?"

"What could she do, once she had invited them in? --or rather, not refused their entry." answered Thomas. That was terrifying. One need not explicitly ask them to come in, thought Andrew. "They obviously had complete control over her until the Master wrested it from them."

"Which she was not too happy about," said Andrew. "She acted as if being under his dominion would be the same thing."

"Well of course she would," put in Matthew. "She was still thinking as the demons thought, even after they had been driven out." Thomas raised an eyebrow and looked at him. He sounded as if he were trying to defend her. Andrew thought, Am I that obvious? "I wonder if we will see her tomorrow evening," he said, and immediately caught himself hoping.

"I suspect we will," said Thomas. "The Master does not do things idly, and it would be a little incongruous for him to drive the devils away only for a day."

"Well," remarked Matthew, "he respects one's freedom, and if she wants to be subject to them again, he would not prevent it." Andrew saw with some amusement that Thomas's hand went to cover his wineskin, evidently in fear that if he wanted to use it, Jesus would not prevent him.

"True," he said, "but he must know what she will in fact decide, even if she does so freely."

"How is that possible?" asked Andrew. "If her choice is free, then it cannot be known beforehand, can it?"

"I would not be too sure of that. I can know now what my choice yesterday was, and that it was free, and my knowledge does not make it less free." "But that was yesterday."

"What I mean is, if you can know the future--and he certainly seems to be able to do, given what he has been saying about being 'surrendered into human hands' and so on, then what you know is what in fact will happen, and that knowledge does not take away from how it happens, any more than my knowledge of the past does."

"I do not see it," said Andrew.

"What sense is there in breaking our heads over such questions?" asked Matthew. "We know not what will happen, and will have to wait and see."

"You will never be a philosopher, Matthew," said Thomas. "But you have a point. But what struck me most about all this was how pure and innocent she looked, and it turns out that she is the infamous Mary of Magdala!"

"One can see how she could seduce people," said Matthew. "Everything about her makes one want to fold her in one's arms and protect her." There it is, thought Andrew, He is smitten with her.

"Fold her?" exclaimed Andrew, partly hoping to warn him--and himself. "As well fold a cobra!"

"I imagine," replied Thomas, "that is what many discovered, once they had done a bit of folding." Apparently Thomas had noticed Matthew also, and was seconding what Andrew said; but he paid no heed--no heed at all. He said, "Well, it will be fascinating to see what happens tomorrow," and they departed to where they were going to sleep.

But events prevented Andrew from seeing Jesus by himself, and the night and the day passed without incident, except that Andrew kept reliving the past two encounters with the powers of hell, and being more frightened by them the more he thought of them. He went more or less blindly with the others when they followed Jesus and the Rock to a house and waited outside as they entered. It was something about an invitation to dinner.

It was evening. The time when the woman would either come for forgiveness or be out of their lives. Andrew wondered if they would see her; she had doubtless considered whether she wanted to be forgiven, now that she had no demons; or whether the demons would surround her with cajolings so that they could enter once again. Jesus had left open that possibility. And if she did want to be forgiven, how would she know where Jesus was? And how would she get in to see him if she did? The sun was setting, so she would have to appear soon if she were to appear at all.

And there whe was, running breathless down the hill. "See there! She comes!" someone cried.

She scrambled, gasping for breath, up to the first man she saw, not one of the Twelve, and clutched at his robe; he shrank away in disgust as he turned and saw her, but she cared nothing. "This prophet--" she panted, "what is his name? Has he arrived yet?"

The man flung her hand from off his garment and turned away, but someone else answered, "He is inside at supper."

"Is she not--?" said another. And another, "She is! That is the one who--"

"Let me by!" she cried. "I must see him!" She struggled against a man who was trying to hold her back. His grip was strong, but her fear and her need were superhuman. She broke free.

"She has a demon still!" he exclaimed, holding his hand. There was shouting and a general running to and fro, some trying to get at her to stop her, others to distance themselves as far as possible.

Andrew raised his voice above the tumult, "Let her by! If the Master wishes to see her, you will not be able to stop her! Let her by!"

There were protests, and a few still reached out at her, and Andrew was about to step up to her to bring her to the door, but, clutching a jar which looked like some kind of perfume or ointment, she pushed everyone aside as a boat pushes flotsam from its way in the water. She pounded on the door with the jar, and then stopped, evidently afraid she would break it and spill the perfume.

The door suddenly opened, and she disappeared inside.

There was a dead silence for a short time, and then murmurs arose, louder and louder. "What has the Prophet to do with such creatures?" "Do you not remember?" "Remember what?" "Yesterday, he said that if she came to him today, he would forgive her sins." "When? Why?" "He drove seven devils out of her yesterday; they said they were seven. It was horrible!"

Thomas said in an undertone to Matthew, "--It will be interesting if she also chooses to join us; it was one thing to accept you, Matthew, and me, but this will strain our tolerance to the limit!"

Simon the Revolutionary heard him, and said, "Join us? That one? Can you imagine the reputation we will have: 'Not only does he consort with tax-collectors and sinners, he has a prostitute in his midst! And not only a prostitute, but Mary of Magdala!'"

Thomas turned round to face him and said, "Well, you had best prepare yourself. All the signs indicate that that is exactly what is going to happen."

"Nonsense!"

But it did look that way. Jesus was evidently collecting the flotsam and jetsam of humanity to transform them into holy ones following him. Holy ones! Incredible! But then . . .Well, in that case, he was certainly showing that anyone could be a holy one. Here he had a drunk, and a tax-collector, of all people, and now a notorious prostitute and corrupter of the finest in Judea and Galilee. How she would be transformed into the demure creature she seemed to be would broadcast to the world that anyone, no matter what he had done, was welcome in the company of Jesus, if he was willing to change his attitude.

Andrew thought, "I am willing! I am simply not able!" And he all but heard Jesus answer, "Of course you are not. Why are you worried? I am able, and that is enough. Fear not."

He would have to hear that from Jesus's mouth to even begin to believe it.

The door remained closed for an inordinate length of time, and gradually the conversation died down to an occasional remark now and then, none of it favorable either to Mary or to Jesus, for admitting her. The consensus seemed to be that driving out devils was all well and good, and perhaps even forgiving sins (though there was less agreement on how just this was), but it was generally agreed that there were proprieties, after all, and a person was known by the company he kept. But of course, that also meant that Mary would from now on be known by the company she kept. God grant that this company would receive her!

And Andrew pictured her among them, reformed, and he burned with desire.

But of course, if he gave in to the desire, then she would relapse into her old self, and the last state, as Jesus had said in a story about casting out demons, would be worse than the first!

Eventually, the door slowly opened, and Mary emerged, looking bewildered and lost. Matthew looked at her with pity; and Andrew looked at Matthew--as a rival. She certainly was seductive, perhaps especially now, since she presumably had repented of her evil ways. Now she not only looked innocent, but she was doubtless free--whatever that meant, though Matthew would know--of all the evil she had committed.

As the door closed behind her someone said, "Behold! She has been driven from his sight! As I told you!" Another chimed in, "I knew that we should not have let her by!"

There was an ominous movement of the small group toward her, with cries to the effect, "Let us show her what one does to those who defile the Master's presence!" when the door opened again, and a slave put out his head saying, "The Master wishes this woman to have a safe escort to wherever she chooses to go." He looked at her in disgust for an instant, and disappeared inside.

"Safe escort!" "As if she were a princess!" "It cannot be!" "Look at her! We know who she is!" "She is the worst of her lot!" They came no closer, but neither did anyone step forward to help her through them. and they formed a wall in front of her. She glanced off to her right, thinking to get round them, and saw a small group of women, with faces, if anything, ten times more menacing.

She bridled at the taunts, which kept coming from all sides, and was about make an insolent reply, but thought better of it. She bit her tongue and then after a long pause said, "You are right. I am a disgrace to womanhood. No one knows how much of one, except one man. And he forgave me. So please, let me pass; I must--" And she stopped, at a loss as to what she was to do. She stood there, closed her eyes, and teetered slightly.

A man came up to her and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "You see, madame, it is not quite so simple." She opened her eyes and looked into his huge brown face sneering not a palm-breadth in front of her. The hand transferred itself to her chin and forced her to look at him, and she recoiled at the stench of his breath. "You think you can go to him as to a magician and be forgiven for what you have done, and all is erased. You can now go back to leading men into--"

"Leave her alone!" cried John, coming up behind him and with surprising strength spinning him round. "The Master said 'Safe escort,' and safe escort she shall have! If he forgave her, who are you to persecute her?"

"Who am I?" he spat out. "I am one who knows right from wrong!"

"You call yourself his student--"

"I call myself the student of no man who allows whores to go unpunished!" He swung his free hand and landed a resounding slap on John's cheek. The crowd erupted in noises on both sides, while John fell back a step in surprise and pain, holding his face, while the man said, "You call yourself his student, now, do you not? Very well, then turn me the other cheek!"

"I turn you my fist, you lobster! You pig's dropping!--" And suddenly, he checked himself, his face flaming, and stood up to the brownbeard, presenting his cheek. He said in a quiet voice, but full of suppressed passion, "Very well. But if you touch her, it will be a different story."

"It will, will it?" said the man, slapping him once again, now with the back of his hand. "You thought I would not do it, did you not? Now we will see what--"

"That will be enough!" said Andrew, in almost a conversational tone, one which took for granted that it would be obeyed. He towered over the man. "You, sir, whoever you are, if you do not choose to follow a man who would forgive whores, then I suggest you leave this group; our Master would not be to your liking. John, you are too hot-headed."

"What was I to do? Stand there? No one else made a move!"

"We were here," said Andrew calmly, though inwardly he was quaking, not least as he was confronting John, whom he loved as a brother. Her attacker was backing away as inconspicuously as he could. "Some of us do not move as quickly as you, but we would have managed to see that no harm was done, without the necessity of making a fuss."

"And who put you over us, if I may ask?" said John, his face still red, both from the slaps and anger now at Andrew. Andrew was afraid this would happen, but he could not see any way to avoid it. John stood there with his head tilted back, talking as if to his chest, he was so close. "I did not hear the Master call you Andrew Rock."

He could not have stunned Andrew more if he had administered the two slaps he received from the brownbeard. His face turned as red as John's after he had been struck, and he started to make a fist, but simply closed and opened his hand in pain.

John stood there, quite as shocked as Andrew, and Andrew, seeing this, fought to control himself, and managed to say, with a calmness that surprised even him, "If you wish the opinion of Simon Rock, you have only to go in and ask him," he said. "Now let us all stop being silly. We give a fine example of what his students are if we continue thus."

Mary was standing there, evidently pondering what had happened, and Andrew said, "I think that there will be no more trouble; I am sure that no one will bother you now, madame." He could not completely keep the desire our of his voice, as well as the disdain at himself for having it, and his anguish at John's opinion of him. Fortunately, by some miracle, it was not obvious, and--he hoped--he sounded respectful. "You may go."

"Thank you," she answered, in a small, uncertain voice, looking around still like a kitten whose mother has been taken from her. She seemed to think she had to leave--she had not exactly been welcomed, to say the least--but did not think she dared to return to her house, which implied her former way of life. She started off tentatively, then stopped after taking three steps, looked about with a bewildered expression, and turned to walk in a different direction--anywhere, nowhere, but not there--when an anguished Matthew could bear it no longer, and said in a kindly voice, "May I assist you?"

She looked at him with terror, and he laughed. "Please excuse me," he said. "I find it rather amusing now to think that anyone is afraid of me. That is, any longer. I mean, afraid in the way you seem to be. I do not seem to be expressing myself well--Andrew, would you assure her she has nothing to fear from me?"

So Matthew has fallen into the pit, thought Andrew, who was still teetering on its edge. "He is harmless enough, madame; fear not." he said, with an amused smile on his face. Mary seemed not to hear him, or not to understand. But she looked over again at Matthew with no sign of fear.

"Let us leave this mob," he said. "You are overwrought." He took her hand (Took her hand!) and as she looked up into his jet-black eyes, he thought how incredibly beautiful and vulnerable she was, and had to fight an almost overwhelming urge to put his arms about her. Andrew watched with amusement. And for an instant she looked as if she was responding to him, and then both suddenly looked away. Matthew's face blazed, and he saw Mary look down with a blush of shame. (Of shame! Or perhaps this was the technique.)

They stood there, too embarrassed to move or speak, for what seemed hours, when finally Matthew managed to blurt out, "Forgive me." She looked up at his hot cheeks in astonishment, evidently thinking that she was the one that needed to be forgiven, as if she had trying to seduce him.

"It seems I cannot express myself very. . .that is, I am aware that you have had a very trying. . .I myself have had my own sins forgiven, and . . . it is anything but a pleasant. . . but of course in your case. . .I ordinarily know how to speak to a person, but at the moment am . . . at any rate, I have realized that you have been through some . . ." He knew that she was looking at him and understanding not a word he was saying--which, under the circumstances, was all to the good--so he continued to fill in the space "very unsettling . . . experiences in these days," he was saying, "and it . . . must be very difficult to get your bearings. Please do not think I am trying to take advantage of your . . . confusion."

She answered, once again casting her eyes to the ground. "Yes, it is . . . difficult" and immediately bit her lip, as if wondering if she was again acting like the seductress.

If it was playacting, it was superbly done, thought Andrew, half-wishing he was in Matthew's place, and half-rejoicing that he was not. And the interesting thing was that Matthew did not seem to realize that he was head-over-heels in love with her already.

Should he tell him? No. He would not believe him, and Mary, who seemed not to regard him as a victim (unless she was deeply into her former wiles, which was unlikely given what she had been through), but rather as a kindly old man who had for some reason taken pity on her. She did seem to check herself every time she responded seductively--which, of course, made her five times more seductive.

Andrew knew that if he stepped in and she was a tenth of her former self, he could take over from Matthew in an eyeblink; but in the first place, she was probably not a tenth of her former self--at least, not deliberately--and secondly, if she were, he was lost, completely lost, and he knew it.

And desperately wanted it.

He made his way to the clearing where they were to eat. Matthew and Mary had wandered off, perhaps to some place she could go, though Andrew had his doubts about this. He was convinced that she was a new addition to the group, which excited him and worried him immensely. Well, he presumed with Jesus there, they were all safe.

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