I sat upon my camel next to Saba, and for a few minutes I felt a terrible pity for these young children.
Except for the aged, there were no men that I could see. Others who saw us watched for only a few moments before ducking from sight.
“Come!”
I turned to see that Judah had returned and was eagerly tugging at his camel by its rope.
“What is it?”
“Did I not say it? He is from here! Yeshua ben Joseph. His father is now passed, but his mother, Miriam, lives at the end of the village near the spring. She will know.”
Miriam. I knew the name, also called Mary among some. It meant “star of the sea.” I could only imagine what Judah, the stargazer, might make of this.
“How can anyone of royalty come from this village?” Saba said. “This old man said that your Yeshua is a man of high standing?”
“Not in such words.”
“Then how?”
Judah glanced back at the old man, who frowned at us. “He says Yeshua is a mystic who has left his family to be with his followers, because no one will pay him mind in Nazareth.”
Saba’s brow arched. “And this brings you courage?”
Judah dismissively flipped his hand. “What do they know? Don’t you see? My elders spoke of his mother. When I tell her this, she will remember. Then we will know this is the same child. You must trust, Saba!”
Saba grunted but made no objection.
Most of the houses adjoined others in walled courtyards and had thatched roofs. High windows prevented any from seeing inside the homes while still allowing for ventilation. I would have preferred the open tents of the Bedu.
It took us only minutes to travel that dusty path to the western edge of the village, then a short way up another path to the far corner.
When we came to the house of Miriam, mother of Yeshua, Judah told us to remain by the road while he inquired. He hurried to the wooden door and called out. A woman’s voice answered and when Judah explained that he was a Jew from the desert who’d come to find Yeshua, she was silent.
“Miriam? It is I, Judah ben Malchus, who searches for the one who will liberate the Jews. I beg you hear me.”
The door then opened and a woman peered out cautiously, then stepped into the sunlight. She was dressed in a simple, dirtied tunic and a brown mantle, which she held closed with one hand.
The woman was slight and fair, but it was her eyes that struck me, for they stared at me upon my camel, not at Judah. I saw a woman who bore the weight of the world on her shoulders, and yet those eyes understood all of that world. A woman of sorrow and grace at once.
“You are Miriam?” Judah asked.
Only after watching me for a long moment did she turn to Judah.
“I am.”
“Then you must know that I am of the Kokobanu tribe from the east, the great Bedu who read the stars. Our wisest elders came many years ago and offered gifts to you and your son, I am certain. Do you remember?”
Miriam did not need to respond because her face had paled and I knew at once that Judah had found the mother of his king.
He did not wait for her to speak, but immediately stepped back and went to one knee in a bow. “It is my honor to stand before you.”
“No, you must not.” She glanced down the street, but no one was in sight.
“Among the Kokobanu, you are blessed among all women, for you are the mother of the one who will…”
Before he could finish, she stepped behind the wall of the courtyard, leaving him on his knee. He glanced back at me, then quickly stood and followed, vanishing from our sight for the moment.
I turned to Saba, who wore a curious look. “He was right. What do you make of it?”
He didn’t quickly respond. At the very least, this woman and her son were those Judah’s elders had found. But as far as I was aware, Miriam might be wary of Judah and his tribe of stargazers, for such men put their trust in what is not of the earth.
Yet I knew that Judah was a sane man.
“It isn’t good for him to be alone with a woman in this land,” Saba said, glancing down the street.
But it was she who’d drawn him aside, I thought. And none had seen him enter the courtyard.
The moment held the quality of a dream. I had come to avenge my son’s death by begging favor in Herod’s royal court, and yet here I was beside a house made of mud and dung as Judah paid homage to the mother of his king.
Saba was right to ask how a king might come from such a home.
I do not know what Judah spoke, nor Miriam, only that when he strode from the courtyard, his eyes were on me and aflame with hope.
“She will speak to you,” he said, taking the lead rope and tugging my camel down to its knees.
“Me?”
“I’ve told her who you are. She would speak to you in the house.”