The Bride of Cana Read online

  The Bride of Cana

  Michèle McGrath

  The Bride of Cana

  “Judah, you cannot leave us!” Leah could feel her fingers dig into the rough wood so hard that they made small grooves in the surface.

  Judah looked up at her and then quickly away, as he carried on tying up his few possessions. “Leah, I must.”

  “But how will we survive without you? Jesse is so small and he is sickly.”

  “You will survive,” Judah said in the deep voice she had always loved since the day that she met him. “You are strong and healthy. All my land and possessions I leave to you and the boy. He only has the summer flux, as you well know.”

  “Both of us have been needed to work the land and, even so, we are not rich...”

  “Leah, enough! I am going. It is decided.”

  “By you, not by me.”

  “The priests in the Temple will help if you are in need.”

  “They will not!” Leah thrust herself forward until she stood directly in front of her husband, forcing him to look at her. “Do you think they will give aid to the wife and child of a man who has followed the false prophet?”

  “The Master is not a false prophet! I thought you believed in him too.”

  “He’s your kin, not mine.”

  “So? What does that matter? Kin or not, I believe in him.”

  Her eyes dropped and she bit her lip. She did believe. Of course she did, but she could not follow the Master into the desert, not with a child like Jesse.

  “Judah, don’t go. Please don’t leave us. It will be the end of all our dreams.” She spread her arms out to him, as she made her last appeal. Tears ran unheeded down her face. He stepped close to her and wiped them away with loving fingers, just as he had always done.

  “Don’t weep. Dreams don’t end, only change. We have been blessed in our happiness, but this was ordained from the beginning. Didn’t the Master work the first of his wonders at our own wedding?”

  For a second, Leah could taste the fine wine on her lips; wine that had once been water.

  “Mary warned you that this day would come.”

  “She did,” Leah whispered. The beautiful face of the older woman had suddenly become drawn and still, as all her happiness faded. “But I never believed her.”

  “She did not lie to you.”

  “Her words cast a shadow over me on that day. I tried to forget them but now they are coming true.”

  “Yes. The Master has called me and I must go.” He dropped a kiss on her head, picked up his bundle and turned towards the door.

  “Haven’t you been contented here with us?” Leah could feel her voice rise into a wail. He turned back to her, but he held himself stiffly and she could feel his reluctance.

  “I have told you so, many times.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “I have been happy with you since the day that we met,” he said carefully. “With you I have found love and Jesse has made our union complete. I have been the most fortunate of men and I hoped never to leave you until the day death parted us.”

  “Yet you would leave us now to starve or to beg on the streets. What sort of love is that?” She almost spat at him.

  He dropped his bundle on the bench and took her face gently in both his hands. For a long moment, before he kissed her, he looked deep into her eyes and, for the first time, she recognised the anguish in his.

  “I love you, but I also love my God and the Master and I must do as they tell me or be damned forever. The Master said, ‘Follow me and I will make you fishers of men’.”

  “He said that to others, not to you. You are no fisherman.”

  “His words were meant for all men.” There was a stern coldness in his voice now. He rarely used such a tone to her. She knew then that his mind was made up and could not be changed. “Would you have me ignore his call?”

  Leah’s eyes faltered before his certainty. She owed him the truth after all their years together. “No. Not if you are sure. But let us come with you. There is nothing here for us if you go.”

  Judah sighed. “I don’t know where we are going and it is summer. The sun is hot. How long do you think Jesse would survive on the road in this heat?” It was the one argument that would stop her and he could see her face change. She would never risk their precious child, the only one she had been able to bear; the son who was always so frail. For a second he wished with all his heart he could take them with him. The Master had not forbidden it, but the journey would be harsh and he knew he could not bear to see them suffer. He picked up his bundle, cast his scarf over his head and went out into the searing glare of the sun.

  “When will I see you again?” She was leaning against the doorpost, as if all her strength had deserted her. His heart lurched.

  “In the quiet of the evening I will be with you, in memories and in dreams.”

  “It is not enough!”

  “It is never enough, but it is all I can give you. Goodbye, my love. May the months and the years be kind to you both.”

  “God go with you on your road, wherever it may lead you,” she managed to choke out the words that had become traditional between them whenever they parted, knowing it might be the last time she would ever say them to him.

  “Has he gone then?” Hannah came out of the house, drying her hands.

  Leah had strength only to nod. Her cousin wrapped her arms around her, holding her while they stood watching Judah walk down the road. He did not turn back.

  “Don’t despair,” Hanna said softly, “It need not be forever. There is always talk wherever the Master goes; we will know where they both are and, when the weather is cooler, you can go to him. By then, too, perhaps the little one will be well enough for the journey.”

  “Perhaps,” Leah whispered but it was too soon to hope again.

  The summer passed. Another summer and a winter came and went. Judah did not send for his family. She heard wonderful tales of the Master, how he had healed the sick, made the blind see and raised people who were seemingly dead. She heard tales of his friends who were always at his side and sometimes she heard Judah’s name mentioned. So she knew that he still lived. It was a bleak comfort to her in those days. It kept her alive when Jesse died, the winter after his father had left him. Not all Hannah’s skill as a healer could save the boy. It had been so cold, he never stopped shivering. One icy morning he did not wake up. She wanted to die then, but Hannah would not let her. Hannah refused to go back to her home and had stayed on, until Leah achieved a fragile peace. She lived , growing whiter and thinner, almost withdrawn from the world.

  Then everything changed and it was Hannah who brought the word that changed it.

  “The Master is on his way to Jerusalem.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “A man has come from Bethphage and he heard it there. The Master is going to Bethany and then into the city.”

  “What is that to me?”

  “If you go there, you can meet him.”

  “The Master?”

  “No, silly one, Judah.”

  “Why should I go to him? He does not want me.” Leah’s voice was listless as it always was now.

  “It’s over two years since you’ve seen him. How do you know he won’t want you? Here you are, dying slowly before my eyes. If you do nothing, you won’t live through next winter. I’m sure of it. In Jerusalem you may find Judah and become strong again. Isn’t it worth taking the chance? There are some travellers going that way and I will come with you.”

  It took Hannah some time to persuade her, but she succeeded in the end. Next day the two women joined the group which was setting off for Jerusalem. They were days travelling and sometimes, in the cold wind and the dust, Ha
nnah wondered if they would ever get there at all. Leah proved stronger than she had feared. The change had done her good. By the time they reached Jerusalem her step was firmer and her eyes were clear. Yet it was with a feeling of deep thankfulness that Hannah saw the white walls of the city and the towering domes of the temple at last.

  “Do you know where the Master is lodging?” Hannah asked at the gate as they entered. The guard waved a hand. “That way or, at least, he was yesterday.”

  Footsore and staggering with tiredness, the two women climbed through the narrow winding streets. All around them, in the shops and market places, they heard talk of the Master, of the way he had entered the city in triumph, riding on the back of a colt, all around him cheering. ‘King of the Jews’ the people were calling him.

  “Did you hear that?” Hannah clutched at Leah’s arm.

  “God protect him,” Leah whispered with terror in her voice, “and all those who are with him.”

  It took them some time to find where the Master was lodging and, when they got there, they found that he was not there.

  “The Master has gone out and his friends went with him,” they were told, “but his mother is here with the other women.”

  “Leah!” Mary’s arms closed around her, holding her close. Leah breathed in the fragrance of her hair and suddenly, startlingly, remembered their embrace on her wedding day. “I am so glad you have come to be with me at this time.” Leah could feel her arms trembling.

  “What is it? What has happened?” she exclaimed in alarm, but Mary only shook her head and moved away.

  “Nothing so far, but we don’t know what is coming,” the other Mary answered, beckoning Leah aside, “and we are all afraid. Come with me now and let me make you comfortable.”

  Once she had bathed and eaten, Leah was so tired that, as she sat down to lace her sandals, her head drooped and she fell asleep. She was roused by voices and the sound of women weeping.

  “What is it?” she gasped and then stopped. Hannah held up her hand to silence her. Both of them listened intently.

  “What’s happened?” she repeated, when everything grew still again.

  “A messenger came, just as I was about to wake you. It must be bad news but I don’t like to intrude. They are your husband’s kin, not mine.”

  “I will go.” Leah rose and hurried down the stairs into the inner room. Mary was sitting in a corner, her face covered in her hands and her shoulders were shaking. Instinctively Leah started forwards towards her, but the other Mary stood in her way.

  “Let her weep. Tomorrow she will have to be strong, but tonight there is no one to see her, but those she loves.”

  “Why is she crying? Why will she have to be strong tomorrow?”

  “The Master is taken.”

  “Taken? Where? What about his friends?” Leah could hear the fear in her voice.

  “He has been taken to the Praetorium.”

  “All of them? Peter? Judah?”

  “Only the Master. At least I think so.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “He is to be tried, or so they say.”

  “What for? He has done nothing wrong.”

  “Blasphemy.”

  “Dear God preserve him from such a charge as that.”

  The night was the longest that Leah had ever spent in her life, longer than even the night after Jesse had died. No one slept. Gradually weeping gave way to a dry eyed terror that was afraid of the dawn. A sudden knock on the door made them cringe, until they knew who had come.

  “John! It is only John,” someone said as the young man made his way over to Mary and knelt before her. He whispered something so softly only she could hear. Then she rose and went from the room. When she reappeared, her mantle was wrapped tightly around her, but, in spite of its warmth, she could not disguise the tremors that were running through her whole body. Her eyes swept round the room. They looked glazed as if they could not see.

  “Come,” was all she said, but everyone followed her as she made her way out of the house and through the streets to the Praetorium in the centre of the city.

  The square outside was huge, crowded and so noisy that Leah felt her ears hurting from the clamour. Although she tried hard to stay near to Mary, it was not long before they were separated. Hannah, too, was lost in the crowd and she could not see her anywhere. Leah tried to move forwards, but she was hemmed in and all she gained was curses from the people around her. She had no choice but to stand still. It was then that she saw the Master, far away, standing next to another man, both of them robed in the imperial purple. That could not be right. Leah strained her ears to hear what was being said. A ripple of sound started at the front of the crowd and grew.

  “Not him but Barabbas!”

  “What are they saying?” she touched the arm of the man next to her to gain his attention.

  “Pilate is offering to release a prisoner and Barabbas has been chosen.”

  “Who is Barabbas?”

  “A rogue. The other fellow must have done something terrible indeed to be worse than him.” The man laughed and Leah was too terrified to contradict him. She felt herself grow faint and she hoped that she would not fall. If she did, she would be trampled to death. Then she felt a clutch on her arm and the man said, “Here, are you all right?”

  “Yes. It’s hot with so many people here. What will happen to him, the other man?”

  “He’ll be crucified.”

  “Crucified?”

  “Nailed to a cross and left to hang there till he’s dead.” There was a certain glee in the man’s tone and she felt sick. “Where are you from, if you don’t know that’s how the Romans kill their prisoners?”

  “From far away. We don’t crucify people there.”

  “You’re fortunate...” he started to say but she wasn’t listening. Blindly she pushed her way away from him, back through the crowd who parted before her, as they moved into the place she had left. Her senses were reeling and she had no idea of the direction in which she was going. Eventually, when the crowd thinned, she found a wall and sat on it with her head between her knees. Gradually her stomach settled and she could see once again. She was some way from the square but people were streaming past her, lining the street on both sides, as if for some spectacle. At first, she did not care what was happening until she heard a groaning and a scraping of wood over stone. She looked up and saw pieces of wood moving slowly above the heads of the crowd. People were standing on the wall where she was sitting and she climbed up beside them. Then she could see it all.

  Three men were walking painfully along the street, each of them carrying a huge cross of wood, which was scraping along the stony ground. The first man had blood streaming down his face, where his skin had been pierced by thorns wrapped around his forehead. She almost fell when she recognised him, Mary’s son, and a guest at her wedding, the Master himself. He looked up and, for a second, their eyes met. She swayed, feeling the impact of his mind and then his gaze fell. Suddenly there was movement on the other side of the street. A woman darted out from the crowd. Leah recognised her. A look, a kiss, then John put his arm around Mary and led her away. Leah choked. She knew what it felt like to lose a son. Somehow she was down from the wall, following the crosses as they moved through the streets behind the backs of the crowd. They passed out of the gate and climbed a small hill. The crowd was smaller now; not everyone wanted to be at the ending. Leah was walking unseeingly, thinking of nothing, hoping for nothing, when suddenly hands caught her and swung her round.

  “Leah!” It was his voice she recognised and it was as if she was seeing a stranger. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to look for you.”

  “Where’s Jesse?”

  “Dead, long ago.” Dimly she heard his cry of anguish. Once she would have tried to comfort him, but his pain no longer affected her. Gently she pulled herself away from his grasp.

  “Leah, what’s happened to you? Stay with me, talk to me. Te
ll me about Jesse. I need you.”

  She turned towards him. For a long minute she stared at him as if she had never seen him before. He looked aged and tired. Tears were running unchecked down his cheeks. His face was the face of a stranger. In that instant Leah knew that she could never be again the woman he had left. Those dreams had truly ended. Gently she withdrew her hand from his.

  “I needed you once. Others need me now.”

  The bride of Cana walked away, up the hill. Silently she took her place with the others beneath the cross, behind the beloved disciple, the other Mary, Joanna, and Mary, the mother of Jesus.

  This story also appears in the anthology Bible Women

  Copyright © 2011 by Michèle McGrath

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the author.

  Most characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Some are real.

  My books are fiction set in history.

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  About Michèle McGrath

  Award winning author, Michele McGrath, was born on the beautiful Isle of Man in the middle of the Irish Sea. She has lived in California, Liverpool, France and Lancashire before returning home. Living in Paris and Grenoble taught her to make a mean ratatouille and she learned the hula in Hawaii.

  Michele is a qualified swimming teacher and manager, writing self help books on these subjects. Although she writes in many genres, her real loves are historical romance and fantasy. She has won numerous writing competitions, had second places and been short-listed many times. She has had tens of thousands of sales and downloads.