CHAPTER ELEVEN
SOMETHING IN me shifted in my short time with Miriam there in that desolate town of Nazareth, but I did not know what. Perhaps it was only the fact that Miriam, mother to a boy who’d been rejected in his home, had embraced my mission.
But in expressing concern for her son’s safety, she’d sown worry in me for my own. I found myself overwhelmed as we approached the city of Sepphoris, that city looming on the hill so close to Nazareth, yet I kept my thoughts to myself.
When Judah asked me what Miriam had spoken to me, I told him that she’d consoled me for my loss and asked that we make no mention of her or Yeshua to Herod. And yet both Judah and Saba could tell I had been deeply affected by my encounter with her.
“So now you know, Maviah,” Judah said as we left Nazareth. “The stars tell us only the truth.”
I could not deny it. “Yes.”
“And you, Saba. There can be no doubt.”
“Your stars have spoken,” Saba said. “What they mean, no one can know.”
“What more is there to know? For out of Bethlehem will come a ruler who will shepherd Israel, as it is written. Now we know that Yeshua is this ruler, even as my elders have seen. Rome will fall.”
“And what is a ruler? In the east, a man seeks to rule his own heart, not a land or a people.”
“In the east, perhaps, but you are in Israel. Here it is the land and God’s chosen people.” He turned to Saba. “At the least, you now know that the stars have conspired to give us a sign.”
Saba finally nodded. “What I know even more is that Rami is in need of Rome, and I serve Rami. As do you. And we serve Maviah, who is now the voice of Rami.”
“Yes,” Judah said, settling with his attention fixed forward once again. “Of this too there can be no doubt.”
We made camp in a shallow, dry wadi just before the city, for it was too late to make any entrance to Herod’s palace that day.
That night we spoke little, each enslaved by his own thoughts. But the voices in my head kept sleep from me, so I finally rose and walked around an outcropping of rock near the bedded camels.
The night was silent and lit only by starlight, without a moon. No creature stirred and still my mind would not join the calm.
When I reflected on Miriam’s kindness I fell further into the hopelessness of my predicament. Like Miriam, I too was only a woman. Like her and her son, I too was an outcast.
And Miriam, though mother of Judah’s mystical king, was afraid of Herod. As was I, and for the same reason as she. As she herself had made plain, Herod was ruthless and could not be trusted. I became certain that I would fail miserably in the task set before me.
Who was I to walk into Sepphoris to request the Roman armies for my father’s sake? The notion now struck me as preposterous.
Dread shadowed me.
Who are you, Maviah, to sway a king?
Who are you to seek vengeance against the vast Thamud?
Who are you but a slave still, no more free than upon your first breath?
My father and Judah and Saba had all made a terrible mistake in entrusting me with the dagger of Varus, for in my hand it was only a worthless relic, sure to draw little more than a chuckle from Herod.
I was pacing on the sand with my arms crossed, mired in an unprecedented fear, when a voice spoke.
“They are like you,” it said.
I turned to find Judah staring up at the stars.
“No thought can remove them from the sky.” He looked at me with a smile.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, disturbed by his appearance.
“I saw that you were unsettled,” he said, coming closer.
“Of course I’m unsettled. This entire mission is absurd.”
“And yet it’s the only way. You will rise like the sun.”
“What do you expect from me?” I snapped at him. “I am only a woman!”
His smile softened. “I expect nothing more from you,” he said.
“Nothing more?” I could have told him that he might take this nothing and choke on it, because it was a lie. Instead I only grunted and turned away to avoid heaping my frustration on him.
“Maviah… what Rami has asked of you… it’s far too much for any common woman. But you—”
“Stop it!” I turned, face hot.
“Stop it?”
“Stop it! Do not ply me with your silver tongue.”
He blinked and I knew immediately that I had hurt him. But I only crossed my arms again and turned away. Judah as much as my father had placed the weight of the world upon my shoulders.
For a long while, he said nothing. Then I heard his feet on the sand. I felt his hand take mine.
I turned and saw that Judah was on his knee, face lifted, tears brimming in the dim light.
“I beg your forgiveness,” he said, voice strained. “If I have harmed but one hair on your head, I stand condemned. I see you only as the brightest star in the heavens. I worship you as that queen. If my tongue hurts you with even a whisper, you must cut it out, so that I would be as silent as your father now.”
The boldness of his approach took me off guard and I glanced into the night, expecting to be seen, but we were alone.
“I beg you, Maviah. Do not cast me away.”
How could a man speak in such subservience to me? I was unaccustomed to such extravagant praise. My first instinct was to pull away.
But the sincerity in his eyes stilled me. Judah truly did see me as one who had great power, if not over the world, then over his world. It was then that I first realized the true nature of his heart. I had known we shared affection, but this… this was far more.
Judah was not only drawn to me.
He loved me.
“How could I cast you away?” I said quietly.
He pulled my hand closer and gently placed a kiss on my fingers.
“Then I remain your humble servant. For you I would lay down my life.”
For the second time in that same day, overwhelming emotion swallowed me and tears sprang to my eyes. I did not feel worthy of such words. I did not know what to make of them. Instead of gratitude, fear rose into my throat.
And yet how could I refuse the love of such a man, who had never spoken a word of anger to me? How much had I hurt him by raising my voice?
I dropped to my knees in that sand and I threw my arms around his neck, so that his beard pressed against my cheek.
“No, Judah,” I wept. “It is I who serve you.” I kissed his cheek and his hair. “Please forgive me. Forgive me, I beg you.”
“Maviah.” His arms were around me. In both Bedu and Jewish ways, we had crossed those lines called forbidden, but neither of us cared. “You are the—”
Without forethought, I kissed his mouth, silencing what was sure to be yet another utterance of my majesty, not because I objected but because I was carried away with affection for him.
For a long moment, we lost ourselves in that kiss, drinking like thirsty souls who’d stumbled upon a well in the most desolate sands. And then I withdrew, breathing hard.
I stared into his eyes and he into mine, stunned.
“Forgive me, I—”
He silenced me with another kiss. I had known that Judah was a zealous man, but I had not felt his great passion until then.
He pulled away, held my face in his hands, and spoke gently. “I will not forgive what is freely given. Nor must you.”
“No,” I said. “Do not forgive me.”
“Nor you me.”
“I won’t.”
“Then it’s settled.” Judah released me and sat back, grinning like a boy who has discovered his first secret. “Now tell me what concerns you so deeply.”
So I sat beside him, staring into the night, and I told him my deepest fears. That I was too common to win the favor of a king, that I was too weak to avenge my son’s death, that now the Kalb and my father relied on the very slave girl they themselves had saddled with shame.
When I finished he remained quiet for a long time, arms on his knees, gazing at the stars on the horizon.
“In Arabia and in Palestine both, they say that a man is more honorable than a woman,” he finally said. “But this I know is a lie. In truth, all of man is first born of woman, then, when grown, slave to woman. Think of Yeshua. Born of a woman whose love and nurturing make the way for him to be king.”
“Yes, but—”
“Think of Herod, then. Would even a king not give away his kingdom for a woman? You underestimate your true power, as a woman. So who says a woman is born with less honor than a man?”
I could not properly appreciate his words just then. I thought them prompted by affection. And yet they pulled at me, deep within.
“Even the gods recognize the power of a woman,” he said. “Is not your god Isis?”
“I no longer serve a god.”
“But do men not bow to Isis? Do they not beg Al-Uzza for her good fortune?”
“You believe in neither,” I said.
“True, but what do I know? Sometimes I don’t believe in my God, though he be one. And for this I beg his forgiveness in sacrifice, only hoping for his mercy. But what good is any god, be he man or woman, if he cannot give his people bread?”
“None.”
“In Israel the king has also been called the son of God, appointed by the divine to rule. And now even as Israel begs her son of God to restore her land and the bread of that land, so the desert begs her daughter of God to restore her honor. Is this not true?”
“I don’t think I can give it to them.”
“But you will, Maviah. You will see and then you will believe.”
“And if I don’t?”
He shrugged. “Then it was not meant to be. And this too is life. I only ask that you begin to see what I see in you. Tomorrow you will stand before the king, Herod, who will only see you as you see yourself. And then he will offer you his favor.”
I remained silent, wondering if I could see myself with such favor.
“Herod is a man,” Judah said very quietly. “There is no one to win his favor like a woman such as you.”
I felt myself blush in the darkness.
“I have no interest in appealing to the man in him.”
“And yet Saba is right—you come for your people, and so you will do what you must.”
“This doesn’t bother you?”
He responded slowly.
“It isn’t my right to speak on this matter.”
This was true.
“I would, however, advise against marriage,” he said, with a hint of mirth. “His wife, Phasaelis, is the daughter of Aretas and surely filled with as much pride as her father.”
Phasaelis. I had given little thought to Herod’s wife, for surely she wouldn’t have a voice in Herod’s court. If so… she was the daughter of Aretas, whom I sought to betray even as he’d betrayed my father. It was his endorsement of the Thamud that had led to my son’s death.
“Could she present a difficulty? Surely this wife won’t be party to his decisions.”
Judah’s brow arched. “Do women not turn the heads of kings as I said?”
“Then I can only pray that this Herod isn’t such a weak king.”
“No, Maviah. We will pray that he is. Do you not intend to turn his head as well?”
I saw the challenge and for a moment felt loath to embrace it. But then I let my fear go, because this was the path before me, regardless of where it led. What other choice did I have now?
“I will do what I must do.”
“And you will do it as a queen.”
I put my hand on his head and ran my fingers through his hair. It was strange to feel so honored by a man. There in the desert, I truly was Judah’s queen.
“Enough about kings and queens,” I said. “Tell me about the stars, Judah.”