The Galileans: A Novel of Mary Magdalene Read Online Free PDF Page A

arms, she was snatched away by a Greek named Demetrius, wearing the uniform of a Roman tribune.
    In the morning Joseph decided to go to the house of Demetrius himself and see what was the relationship between Mary of Magdala and the maker of lyres, even if he had to pretend interest in buying one of the instruments for which he had no possible use. He was spared the pain of pretending, however, for, oddly enough, one of the Nabatean musicians came while he was at the morning meal, with the request that he wait upon Demetrius in the Street of the Greeks.
    While the messenger waited outside, Joseph bustled about, dipping a fresh supply of lean and slender leeches from the tank where he kept them, and renewing his supply of medicine. When he stopped to brush his robe carefully and comb his short beard, his mother asked curiously, “What has happened, Joseph? Why are you preening so?”
    “I go to the house of a Greek named Demetrius.”
    “You did not make such a fuss as this when you were first called to the procurator himself. Is there a girl at this house?”
    Joseph’s blush confirmed his mother’s suspicions. “Who is it?” she asked slyly. “And how soon can I expect the visit of the marriage broker?”
    The question brought Joseph up short. He could not consider marriage before he realized his cherished dream of completing his studies at Alexandria, even if he thought of Mary of Magdala in that way. Which, he quickly assured himself, he did not.
    “You are doing very well indeed for an apprentice physician,” his mother continued with pretended innocence. “Just yesterday Alexander Lysimachus assured me that already you know more about healing than most of the physicians of Galilee.”
    Joseph easily understood her strategy. If he became interested in a girl, he might give up the wild idea of going to Alexandria. So he did not doubt that his mother would welcome the visit of the marriage broker, if it meant that he would settle here in Galilee, or even Jerusalem. “Why should I want a wife when you take such good care of me?” he said fondly as he kissed her on the forehead. And gathering up his leeches, he was out of the door before she could question him further.
    The home of the maker of lyres was fairly large, although not pretentious. Most of the Greeks on this street were artisans, silversmiths, or tailors, and lived well, but the sounds that poured from the house of Demetrius were foreign to such staid occupations. From the back came the uncertain plinking of a lyre, as if a student were practicing, and behind the musical sounds was the steady obbligato of hammers tapping on wood as workmen put together resonant frames and sounding boards upon which strings were stretched.
    Mary was nowhere to be seen when the Nabatean escorted Joseph through the house into the garden. It was enclosed on three sides by the inner walls of the house, while the fourth side was the edge of a cliff. And since the roof of the house below it on the hillside was well beneath the level of the shelf forming the garden, one had a sudden impression of stepping out upon a stage suspended between the blue of the sky and the amethyst green of the lake far below. It was easy to believe that Mary of Magdala lived here, for the flowers were gay and riotous with color, like herself.
    “Come over here, young man.” The speaker was a plump Greek about sixty years of age, sitting on a bench close to the edge of the cliff. He held a large cithara which he had apparently been tuning, for a delicately carved set of ivory pipes lay on the bench beside him. The Greek’s eyes were deep-set in his round face and lit with intelligence and amusement, as if the owner saw only merriment in the world. Joseph felt an instinctive liking for the fat man, in spite of his soiled robe and the aromatic smell of wine that he exuded. “I was told that Demetrius wished to see me,” he said politely.
    “I am Demetrius.”
    “But Mary said she lived