Chapter 17
At last came the day when we climbed a little knoll and saw the blue water of Galilee below us. Antiope tells me that it was only ten days after we left Banias but it seemed like weeks or even months to me. I was so exhausted by then that I couldn't even feel happy that journey's end was in sight. I just collapsed and sat in the dirt while Antiope went over to a lad guarding a couple of sheep and goats to ask the way to Capernaum.
By the gods, that is a terrible country! The sun blazed down on a dry, yellow land covered with dry grass and black rocks that were too hot to touch and even burned through my clothing when I tried to sit on one. Although it was downhill all the way, when night came we were only halfway down the slope and we stayed in a tiny, one-roomed black stone house on the outskirts of a village that Antiope says was called Chorazin.
"We'll get to Capernaum tomorrow, Madam," she told me. "The gods grant that you find healing there."
I nodded speechlessly, too weary to say a word.
"I've been thinking, Madam," Antiope continued. "We've still got twenty drachma left from the money Publius left us and I've got a bit of money that I've been saving up for my freedom. If I go first and offer it all to this Rabbi Joshua or to one of his disciples, perhaps I can arrange a private interview for you."
I looked at her, hope welling up inside me. "Do you think you could?" I croaked.
Antiope shrugged. "I don't know, Madam, but it's worth trying. I know how much you hate talking about your problem and you certainly don't want to do it in front of a crowd."
"May the gods bless you," I said, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the wall. "You're right. You've no idea how I've been dreading seeing this rabbi."
There was silence for a long moment and then Antiope said, "But Madam, what will we do if he refuses?"
I opened my eyes. "Then I'll just have to be shamed in front of everyone," I said. "I've come too far to go back now."
"Are you talking about Rabbi Yeshua, sisters?" the woman of the house turned from her stove.
"Yes," Antiope answered for me. "Do you know anything about him?"
"I should think so," the woman said, turning back to her cooking. "He's famous all around here. He can certainly heal every sickness, no matter how severe. He's healed lepers with a touch, cast out devils with a word, some even claim that they were healed by his shadow passing over them. The mother of young Issachar, who lives next door, was healed of a three-day fever just by a touch from his hand."
"Can you tell us more?" I asked. "Most people we meet talk more about his teachings."
"No wonder," the woman said, "for he is a great teacher. All our other rabbis teach in the name of their predecessors, quoting the sayings of other sages until your head spins, but Rab Yeshua speaks with no other authority than his own name."
"What sort of things does he say?" Antiope asked.
"Well," the woman stopped stirring the pot for a moment while she thought. "For example, I once heard him say, 'You have heard that the fathers taught "Do not kill", but I say to you, "Do not hate your brother or even call him a fool".'"
She chuckled. "No one batted an eyelid over that, but his next saying caused a few uncomfortable looks."
"What was that?" Antiope prompted.
"He said, 'You have heard that the fathers said, "Do not commit adultery", but I say to you, "Do not even look lustfully on another woman."' You know how it is, sisters. There's some men who just sort of undress you with their eyes and Joseph ben Ruben is one of the worst round here. He was in the crowd that day and you should have seen him squirm!"
Antiope laughed out loud. "I know just what you mean, sister," she said. "Of course, it's worse for us slaves but I can remember back when I was young and free. There was one man that all we girls ran from; we just felt so uncomfortable in his presence, the way he looked at us."
"But what about healing?" I interrupted. "Could he heal me, do you think?"
The woman turned and put her hands on her hips, the spoon she was using for stirring jutting out at an angle.
"Sister, he can heal anybody. They do say that he even raises the dead to life, so a mere illness? Pah." She snapped her fingers to show how easy it was and turned back to her stove.
"But I've been sick twelve years," I whispered.
The woman at the stove shrugged. "Twelve years or twelve days, it makes no difference. Why, there was a woman down in Capernaum who had a hunch back - you know, the kind a woman gets from too many children too close together - and she'd been like that for thirty years or more. She was healed with a word, in front of everybody, just like that."
There was more talk but I didn't hear it, for I closed my eyes again and must have fallen asleep. Antiope woke me when the food was ready and I ate but by then the man of the house had returned and we women kept silent.
