Nineteen

Everyone, it seemed, was as shaken as Matthew. No one said a word. 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, Matthew enjoying the smell of the woods and of meat cooking, the others merely exchanging a word or to, because all were still recovering from the shock of the close encounter with the powers of hell. Their own exorcisms had been a game compared to this; they had not realized in the least what they had been dealing with, since it was all so easy: they had said, "Evil spirit, I command you to leave this person, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth!" and with an occasional shout and sometimes a convulsion or two, the devil left.

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

"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? (Chop) --or rather, not refused their entry." answered Thomas. "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." He was surprised to find himself defending her.

"I wonder if we will see her tomorrow evening," said Andrew.

"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." He remembered how Jesus had respected his own freedom.

"True, 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."

"Fold her?" exclaimed Andrew. "As well fold a cobra!"

"I imagine that is what many discovered (chop)." said Thomas, "once they had done a bit of folding."

"Well, it will be fascinating to see what happens tomorrow," said Matthew, and they departed to where they were going to sleep.

He saw David, about to lie down, look over at him. David seemed to have a different attitude toward Matthew lately, ever since he had returned and told him he had given everything away. He no longer dogged his every footstep, and seemed to be ambivalent about him. He no longer slept beside him, for instance, though he did not seem to have found another person to be his companion. Mostly, he brooded by himself.

At times he spoke to Matthew--who was nearly the only person he spoke to--almost admiringly, and at other times he seemed as though frustrated in some way. Had he been hoping that Matthew would give him a large sum of money, so that he could leave here and start on a life of his own? He did not seem captivated by Jesus, as everyone else was; he acted almost as if he resented being brought back to life. Matthew never raised the subject, knowing it was a sensitive one with him; he waited for David to introduce it, but he never did.

During the next day, nothing much happened except a few miraculous cures (which had become routine by this time), and a couple of analogies by Jesus, comparing the Reign of God to a treasure in a field and a very valuable pearl, and, interestingly, to seeds a farmer planted which grew by themselves without his knowing how. Matthew wondered whether God's reign were growing inside him in this way; he seemed more acclimated to his new life, in spite of occasional bouts of near panic when he realized that he now was a poor man. "But I am living quite well," he kept telling himself; "what have I to fear?" Still, fear he did, because "His death" whispered in his ear in answer.

Toward evening, the group gathered in front of Simon the Pharisee's house, along with the usual small motley crowd of the interested and merely curious, while the Rock and Jesus went inside. Everyone was nervously waiting to see if the woman would come back, and what she would do. "But how will she know where he is?" said James son of Alpheus.

Suddenly, someone saw her running breathless down the hill. "See there! She comes!" he 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, but, clutching a jar which looked like some kind of perfume or ointment, she pushed them 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 came up to Matthew and remarked, but in a subdued tone, "It seems that Andrew was correct. She does wish to have her sins forgiven. 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!"

Matthew was inclined to agree with Thomas. How else would she be able to endure a totally new life? His heart gave a little leap at the prospect of her staying with them where he could look at such a lovely face--and then he realized what he was thinking and blushed with shame.

Once the idea had been brought out, conversation in the little crowd became intense and general, especially among the Twelve and the closer followers of Jesus.

But 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.

Eventually, the door slowly opened, and Mary emerged, looking bewildered and lost. Matthew's heart went out to her. 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 Matthew could see her recoil 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!" said 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 the young man'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, as Matthew watched her attacker 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, whether from the slaps or emotion was not clear. He barely reached the other's shoulders, and looked a trifle ridiculous 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."

At this Andrew's face turned scarlet with in chagrin, but he quickly controlled himself and spoke with measured cadences. "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."

Matthew saw that John realized that he had overstepped another line, but that there was no way he could repair the damage without bringing into the open the cause of Andrew's red face; so he turned away and disappeared into the group.

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." His tone was almost respectful, but Matthew thought, not quite so. "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, Matthew realized to his consternation--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 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?"

"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, 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. And for an instant she looked as if she was responding to him, and then both suddenly looked away. Matthew's face suddenly blazed, and he saw Mary look down with a blush of shame.

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.

Someone jostled against them with an half-audible remark, whose tone was anything but welcoming, and Matthew said, "It is far too crowded here for us--you. Come, let us go apart. Believe me, madame, I am safe."

She smiled, clearly amused that Matthew would think that she felt herself unsafe with him, when she must have known so many ways to be "safe" with men in any situation he could imagine. Suddenly, her face fell in despair, probably at the fact that she had not been transformed, and was still the old Mary. Matthew had had the same experience.

"Come. Or is there some place you wish to go? I can take you there."

"No," she said. She thought a moment, and then added. "No. No place." She paused, thinking of the implications in the fact that there was no longer any place at all for her. Matthew knew that the temptation to kill oneself reared its ugly head at his juncture.

"Come with me, then," he said, and made to take her by the arm again, but stopped before his hand reached her. He turned and began walking away. Mechanically, she followed. He dropped back until they were walking side by side through the wooded shadows in the night, with patches of moonlight dappling the little path. Gradually, they left the others behind.

"Do you have some friend you would like to--" and he caught the look on her face.

"To stay with? No, no friend." So she had not had a single friend either. Matthew understood. He did not feel isolated as long as he hated everyone, and suddenly when that was taken away, he was overwhelmed with loneliness.

"I cannot remember when last I had a friend," she said simply.

"I think I can understand. Until I came here, I was much the same."

She laughed, and looked up at him wondering how such a gentle person could feel as she did. She caught herself. "I am sorry," she said. She obviously did not have much practice in speaking to men as persons and not targets of her seductive arts.

"You needn't apologize," he said. "I came to see you because I did understand, in my own way. Not that I was involved in your type of sin. But, you see, I used to be a tax-collector."

Now it was his turn to laugh as she instinctively shrank from him. "You see? I do know."

"I am sorry. Who am I to--" she could not finish the sentence. There was a pause.

"I understand this also," he said. "Do not be afraid I will take offense; I would have done, a year ago, but few months of him transforms one. An eyeblink with him transforms one. But you know that."

"I hope so, at least," she said.

"But what I meant to say is that each of us has his own decencies. You probably never defrauded anyone, however much you charged for your--" he let it hang for a moment "--and I used to pride myself on the fact that I never went whoring. Of course, I could not afford to, because I could not bear the thought of any of them rejecting me with scorn because of what I was. Most of the virtues we pride ourselves on are vices in disguise."

There was another pause, she lost in thought again. Matthew pondered that he had never even noticed a woman as a woman before, and now here was this incredibly beautiful creature speaking to him as if she actually cared what he had to say. It opened a whole new world to him--a world he was terrified to enter.

"Were you there when I--?"

"Last night?"

"Was it last night? It seems a year ago."

"Yes. It was quite a frightening thing for us, though we have seen a good deal in our travels with him. That is why so many of them are--not friendly. You terrified them, frankly."

"I did not know, even myself, until . . . a day or two ago, I think. I have completely lost any sense of time. They began to--to let me be aware of them, because . . . well, because of something I had done, and--last night, I was there--not to seduce your Master" she added quickly, her face suddenly flaming at the thought--and immediately realized that this was half a lie--"but to make them think that this was why I was beside the cliff; and when I saw him I was going to fling myself over, before they knew and could prevent it." She paused, arrested by the memory.

"Then that was why he called to you to stop."

"I could not move."

He looked away, pensive. "I had a feeling it was something of the sort. I, too, when he called, had decided that the only thing to do was to kill myself. But, as you discovered, it turned out not to be necessary."

She said nothing. Was it not?

"What?" he said. "Do you find yourself not completely transformed? It is a shock, is it not, to find that you are the same person you left behind. I had much difficulty with that also; for months. I still do. I still surprise myself thinking unbidden the old thoughts. But he said, once I had the courage to ask him, that of course this would happen, that it was not intended to be easy and simple; I could be forgiven, but not escape what I had made of myself. But that it was of no consequence. As long as I did not embrace this self I had abandoned, it would accompany me like a scar, and eventually would become a badge of honor.

"I confess I do not understand what he meant. It is still a danger to me. At any moment--but no. If he tells me not to be concerned, I will let him concern himself with it." He thought for a while, remembering what Jesus had said, and how he knew his thoughts; and then added, "I suspect he knows that you and I are together now, and that my coming forward was a step in your healing."

Mary said nothing. Matthew saw that she half believed that he had arranged this, and was somehow watching them even now. He could see the slight smile that seemed to indicate that she felt protected, followed by a frown of resentment. How well he could read what was going on within her!