Martha Read online

  He gently put her away from him. “You tempt me, beloved, but I cannot treat you as a street woman. When we come together, it will be as man and wife.” He touched her cheek again. “Until I return . . .”

  “Until you return,” she whispered as he left her standing forlornly among the trees.

  Walking back, she alternated between euphoria and panic. Her heart was saying yes and her mind gave all the practical reasons why it would not work. How could she abandon her home and all she’d known? Would Mary somehow elect to go with her or stay with Lazarus? Also, Lazarus was about to be married. Shua was a sweet girl, but she was young. How could she take over the responsibilities of their household?

  Martha slipped quietly through the gate and closed it behind her. She quickly began to put together their supper, avoiding Mary’s eyes. Guilt filled her heart and in her frustration she snapped at her sister.

  “Mary, must you move so slowly? Bring the platters for the table.”

  At the sharp tone of voice, Mary gave her a questioning look, but said nothing. Martha was instantly contrite. She alternated between clattering the cooking pots to long moments staring off into space. More than once she caught Mary looking at her with raised eyebrows. From time to time she also caught Lazarus watching her, his brows knit in concern. She missed his cheerful attitude and would almost welcome one of his pranks, but he was silent.

  Even Nathan, who did not come to the house as often as he had done when Ephraim lived, passed her in the village with a look of pity on his face. Did he suspect something? Had she been seen with Thaddeus? In her anxiety to meet him, had she been careless and not watched to see if anyone from their village was near?

  Her questions were answered one night when Mary was asleep. Lazarus came to her out in the courtyard as she sat looking up at the stars.

  “They will not give you the answer you seek, Martha.”

  She turned, startled. “What do you mean?”

  He sat down beside her. “You are my sister and I love you. It is my duty to protect you, even from yourself.” His eyes flashed. “It is known that you are meeting a Roman soldier in the olive grove.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. “The village knows?”

  He shook his head. “I thought you were acting strangely and followed you this last Sabbath. When I saw who you were meeting, I was afraid for you.” He folded his arms. “Nathan also knows. I wanted to talk to someone. I didn’t know what to do.”

  She gasped. “How could you share this, with Nathan of all people?”

  “He is a friend. Who else can I speak of this with? Someone needed to stop this dangerous liaison. Martha—a Roman soldier, how could you shame our family in this way?”

  It was the first time Lazarus’s anger had been directed at her and she was taken back.

  “Actually, you were not as careful as you thought. Nathan already knew.”

  Nathan knew. Who else knew? Was she now the topic of village gossip? Martha felt her face flame.

  “Nathan was on his way back from the city and saw you running into the grove. He thought there was something wrong and was concerned for you. He followed to see if he could be of help. Unfortunately he saw you with the captain. We have kept it to ourselves, hoping you would come to your senses.”

  He flung his hands in the air. “You must end this, Martha. I have never known you to be so foolish. Tell me, has anything happened between you?”

  She knew what he was asking. “No, he has been respectful, Lazarus, and kind. We only talk.” She blushed in the darkness, thinking of the last time when she had shamelessly leaned on Thaddeus’s chest.

  She sighed deeply. In a way she was glad Lazarus knew. She had desperately wanted to talk with him about it. Nathan was another matter.

  Lazarus took her by the shoulders. “You must stop this foolishness now, Martha. It is wrong and you know it. What will happen to your reputation should anyone else find out?”

  She hated the pleading note in her words. “Lazarus, he has asked me to marry him. He has a villa on the island of Cyprus and can offer me a home . . . and children. His mother was Jewish and he is a Godfearer. We would raise our children in our faith.”

  Surely Lazarus understood what that meant to her. He was silent, dropping his hands to his sides. She held her breath, waiting for his response.

  “You would leave your family and village behind?”

  “Oh, Lazarus, I am so torn. I love him.” She began to weep, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

  It was the first time Lazarus had seen her so vulnerable, and knowing what he could have said, she was surprised at his next words.

  “You have given up much to care for Mary and me, to tend the home for our father. I think I can see how this would happen. I know you want to be married and there is no hope for that in our village for you now.” He paused, choosing his words. “You are a good woman, Martha, and a good sister. You must do what you feel is right.” He sighed. “While I do not approve of this relationship, I will not renounce you as my sister for your choice.”

  “Thank you for your kind words, Lazarus. It is more than I hoped for.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot think that this will be what you want it to be. Have you told him you would go with him?”

  “No. He had to leave on a mission and I promised him an answer when he returns.”

  He stood. “I see. Then I pray that you will bring him the answer that is right—for both of you.” He turned and, shaking his head, went to his pallet.

  Martha stood in the moonlight for a long time, praying, and finally she too walked toward the house. She lay down wearily on her pallet and stared at the ceiling. How could she bring sorrow on her family? At least her father was gone now; she couldn’t have borne his disappointment in her. She frowned. How many times had Nathan seen her when she thought no one was watching? How many times had he followed her? She knew with certainty that she was not going to stop meeting Thaddeus, but she must be more careful—especially when she knew who to watch for.

  11

  Nathan’s wife, Rhoda, was dead. She finally succumbed after years of struggling with an unexplained illness. Unlike the family of Ephraim, Nathan buried his wife quietly, with only Martha’s family and a few close neighbors in attendance.

  He kept to himself during the time of mourning and silently accepted food from his friends. Lazarus went several times to talk with him. A few weeks later, Martha was standing by her gate when she turned to see Nathan walking toward her. He was pulling a small cart loaded with goods.

  She eyed the cart. “Good morning, Nathan. Are you traveling?”

  “I will say goodbye. I am sorry about the death of your father. He was a man of honor.”

  Martha looked at him in astonishment. “You are leaving Bethany?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m taking some things of my wife’s to the home of relatives in Capernaum as was her final wish. I’m not sure when I will return.”

  Martha sensed he wanted to say more. There was an awkward silence, and then she said, “I wish you a good journey, Nathan, and thank you for the kindness to my father. He valued you as a friend.”

  The dark eyes studied her briefly but were unreadable. Finally he just nodded his head solemnly, then suddenly his face became stern and his eyes bore into hers. “May all you do in the days to come honor his name,” he said sternly, and turning away, strode quickly down the road, leaving her staring after him. She knew what he meant, and she didn’t know if she was angry or frightened.

  She closed the gate more firmly than necessary and, grabbing the broom, began sweeping the courtyard with a vengeance.

  The weeks dragged by and still there was no word from Thaddeus. She went to the olive grove on the Sabbath, but she waited alone. She wondered how far his band of soldiers would have to travel seeking this Barabbas.

  It was in the middle of the fifth week, just after their evening meal, when there was a firm knocking on the gate. Lazarus rose, and with a g
lance of apprehension at his sisters, went slowly to open it. Martha moved protectively toward Mary and her heart pounded. Who would knock so loudly? Could it be soldiers? What had they done?

  A Roman soldier did indeed stand at the gate, but he was alone. It was obvious he was uncomfortable and tried to cover the awkwardness with a gruff manner.

  “I am Marcus, in the service of Captain Flavious. I seek a woman called Martha at this house. Is she here?”

  Martha hurried to the gate, her fear giving way to gladness. Thaddeus must have sent her word of some kind.

  “I am Martha. Do you have news for me?”

  The soldier seemed startled at her quiet presence, giving her the idea that he’d expected another type of woman. Finally he nodded and pulled something from his pouch. “I have come on behalf of Captain Flavious. We were engaged in battle against a group of rebels and he was severely wounded.”

  Martha stared at him and fear began to well up in her heart. “Captain Flavious, he is recovering?”

  Seeing her stricken face, the soldier’s gruffness softened. “I promised him I would come here to tell you in person. The battle was hard, and just as we were gaining on Barabbas and his band, one of their arrows found its mark and the captain suffered a mortal wound. He seemed to be recovering, but then his condition became worse. There was an . . . infection. He died of his wounds, two days ago. I’m sorry.” The soldier took a scroll out of his tunic along with something wrapped in a soft cloth.

  “He told me the words to say that he could not . . .” The young man struggled with his emotions for a brief moment. “He was the finest soldier I ever knew.” He held out the scroll and cloth, and when she slowly took them, he turned abruptly and walked away, leaving Martha staring down at the scroll. She slowly unwrapped the cloth and found a gold medallion that shimmered in the palm of her hand.

  Mary came and put her arm around Martha, who stood numbly, unable even to cry.

  Lazarus gently took the scroll from her and unrolled it. She would want to hear the words and Martha could not read. The captain must have known Lazarus would be the one to read it, for to their surprise and relief, it was written in Hebrew.

  My beloved,

  I have little time. I thank our God for you and that I have known love once again in my life. Whatever you would have decided I knew I could live with, for I carry you in my heart. May you keep this medallion, a gift from my father to remember me by. I go to our God.

  Farewell, my love,

  Thaddeus

  When he’d read the last word, Lazarus carefully rolled up the scroll and put it back in her hand. Mary led her across the courtyard and eased her down on a bench by the house. She sat, clutching the scroll and medallion, as Mary stroked her hair and Lazarus knelt in front of her.

  “I am so sorry, Martha. Forgive me for the harsh words I spoke to you. You had decided, hadn’t you?”

  She nodded her head slowly. “I could not let him go.”

  Mary looked at Lazarus with a puzzled expression. “Is this the Roman soldier who saved our father’s life?”

  “Yes,” he murmured quietly.

  Suddenly Mary’s face lit with understanding. “I wondered about those Sabbath afternoons.”

  Martha’s voice came out in a cracked whisper. “I would like to be alone for a while.”

  Mary hugged her and went into the house. Lazarus stood and gave his sister a sorrowful smile. “You know, for what it is worth, I wanted you to be happy.”

  Then he too went to his bed.

  Martha sat still for a long time, reliving the moments in the olive grove with Thaddeus, the sweet words, his strong arms around her, the thoughts of his villa in Cyprus. Yes, she had decided to marry him, for she didn’t want to live without him. Now it didn’t matter. He was gone and love went with him. She knew she couldn’t grieve for Thaddeus openly, but with her father’s recent death, no one would question her grief. The tears flowed freely now and she didn’t wipe them away.

  She fell to her knees with her arms around herself, rocking back and forth. Anguished cries rose up in her throat and she longed to cry aloud. Finally she stuffed her gathered cloak against her mouth and moaned softly. “Thaddeus, Thaddeus, my dear love,” she whispered as her body shook with grief. She stayed that way for a long time until she slid forward and lay uncaring on the cold, packed earth.

  “Oh God Who Sees, take me also. If not together in life, let me join him in death. I don’t want to live without him.”

  She awoke sometime later, chilled to the bone. She opened her hand and looked at the medallion for a long moment and then clutched it to her heart. His hands had held this. It had been about his neck.

  She looked up at the night sky. Had the God Who Sees kept her from making a mistake? Would it have worked out the way she dreamed? Could she have left Mary and Lazarus and gone off to Cyprus with Thaddeus? Now she would never know.

  She forced herself to get up and, wiping her face on her cloak, walked unsteadily toward the house. As she entered, she was relieved to find her brother and sister still asleep. She looked about for a place to keep her treasures and her eyes fell on the small chest. She opened it quietly, and down in a corner, under her mother’s wedding dress, she placed the scroll and medallion and then closed the lid.

  Martha felt sure no one else in their village knew of her meetings with Thaddeus but Lazarus and Nathan. They would keep her secret, Lazarus because he was her brother and loved her, and Nathan because her father had been his friend. He would not bring shame on Ephraim’s family.

  As she slowly sank down on her pallet, there was a movement from Mary, and Martha turned to find her sister awake.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s all right, Martha, I could not sleep. You wanted to be alone, so I did not disturb you.” Mary rose and came to her sister. She knelt down and put her arms around her. “Oh, Martha, I’m so sorry.”

  The two sisters held each other for a long time as a bird’s sweet song from the sycamore tree wafted through the shadows, heralding a new day that was to come.

  12

  Lazarus slammed the gate and stood in the courtyard, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  Martha saw the look on his face and hurried over. “My brother, whatever has happened? You look terrible.”

  “There will be no wedding.”

  She stepped back in shock. “No wedding? What has changed your mind?”

  His shoulders sagged. “Tekoa, the nephew of Shaul and Helah, who is visiting from Bethlehem.”

  She shook her head, trying to understand. “What does Tekoa have to do with the wedding?”

  “I saw Shua with him in the grove of sycamore trees. They were standing close together. It was the look on Shua’s face—she has never gazed at me like that.”

  “You think she cares for him? But she is betrothed to you, Lazarus. If she has behaved improperly, that is a serious matter for the Elders.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, there must be another way.”

  Just then there was a loud knocking at the gate and Martha opened it to find Shua and her father, Neziah. He still wore his leather potter’s apron and there was dried clay on his hands.

  “My daughter has been weeping ever since she came home and she will not tell me why.” He pulled the frightened girl into the courtyard and glared at Lazarus. “What have you done?”

  Lazarus looked at her sadly. “Will you tell him?”

  “I meant no harm,” Shua stammered.

  Lazarus sighed. “She was in the grove with Tekoa.”

  Neziah turned to his daughter. “What were you doing in the grove with him?” He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her.

  “I . . . I have been meeting Tekoa, the nephew of Shaul and Helah, in the grove. Lazarus saw us together.”

  Martha put her arm around Shua. “You must tell us, Shua. Have you and Tekoa done anything that would bring shame on your family?”

  Shua sni
ffed and wiped her eyes on her shawl. “We have not done anything wrong. We’ve only talked. He has not even touched me.” She began weeping again, pleading with Lazarus. “You must believe me.”

  Neziah’s eyes flashed. “You have shamed yourself and our family. You should not even be alone with another man. You are betrothed.” He raised his arm as if to strike her and Lazarus stepped forward.

  “No. I do not believe she has done anything wrong.” He searched the stricken girl’s face. “Is it Tekoa your heart has chosen instead of me, Shua?”

  She looked up at him hesitantly and, seeing the compassion in his face, nodded her head.

  Lazarus’s shoulders slumped and he stood looking down at the ground a long moment. Then he turned to Neziah. “The matter is done. Let us resolve this in a quiet way. I will go into Jerusalem and procure a bill of divorcement for Shua. I will say I chose not to be married at this time. You can pretend anger and say you will seek a more suitable husband. Then you can travel to Bethlehem and make arrangements with Tekoa’s parents.” Lazarus thought a moment. “Tekoa should return home immediately so there is no chance of scandal. I will suggest that to him quietly tomorrow.”

  Neziah stood for a long moment, looking at Lazarus and then his daughter. Finally he shook his head slowly. “You would save our family from shame. I have no words. You are an honorable man, Lazarus. I will not forget.” He gave Lazarus a sad smile. “You would have made a fine son-in-law. May the God Who Sees bless you for your kindness.”

  Shua was looking up at Lazarus, her eyes wide. “You would do that for me, Lazarus?”

  He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps God has something else in mind for me, Shua. We will leave it in his hands.”

  Neziah turned to his daughter. “Let us return home. You will not leave our house until I travel to Bethlehem and the arrangements are made. If you see Tekoa again before this matter is attended to, I will not be responsible for the outcome. Do you understand?”