She recognised the boy as the charge of the Marquésia de Lantar. The boy, she said, was a special child and needed care. He could not yet speak despite being near seven years of age. She asked one of the girls to take him back to the Marquésia and as he was being led away, he turned to look at me. What hovered in the space between us at this point was a glimpse of something rare, as old as eternity, and as new as a moment. When I blinked the child was gone and the revelation faded from my heart.
I became aware of Saissa regarding me with a curious eye, and I was struck by the realisation that my nightly dreams were turning into daydreams! Surely, if I did not soon harness my thoughts I might never again wake up!
There was one way to clarify the mystery that was occupying my every waking hour and driving me from sanity. I asked Saissa if she knew a woman called Lea. I told her that she might be a credente or believer or perhaps the child of a perfect. I said I was worried that she was unwell, for I had not seen her for some time. Saissa shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She did not recognise the name, but she would ask among the other women and would let me know.
More nights passed in silence, and I felt deserted and abandoned by my dream vision, that is, until the seventh night.
I had fallen asleep at my parchments and woke with a start. The wind had picked up and was fanning the flames in the hearth to a bright glow. When I adjusted my eyes I saw her, sitting on the bench, as was her custom. And oh, how it pierced my heart’s deep chambers to see her! Tears veiled my eyes and I had to speak to forestall them.
‘You were gone long…’ I said. ‘I went looking for you. No one seems to know you. I am thinking that perhaps you are just a dream.’
She found this amusing, ‘What is a dream? When men are awake, that is when they are truly dreaming. Besides, have you never been with people who do not know you though you are always with them? They do not know you because they are asleep. To be awake to what others cannot see – this is love.’
I do not say that I always understood her. She was a strange creature, full of wisdoms and secrets and riddles, and I did not press her lest she melt away and leave me with an unfinished dream. I decided to ask no more. From now on, I would think of her as an angel…as the evening star!
‘Of what will you speak this night?’ I said, holding my quill tightly, lest she see my hand tremble.
‘I will show you Mary Magdalene, pairé...’
‘That makes sense...since you last spoke of her brother, Lazarus. It is said that she came to France with him on a boat, that she married Jesus and bore him children.’
Her nod was faint, her azure eyes narrowed a little, and I felt deeply scrutinised. ‘That would mean that Jesus did not die on the cross…is that what you believe?’
I told her the truth. I told her that I did not know, but that the tale came from the troubadours, who sang of such things.
‘There are hidden truths buried deep in these tales, pairé, but one must know how to decipher them. Did you know that the name Magdalene is connected to the word Magda? Magda is a high tower that unites the soul with God. In Egypt too there were such women, but they were called brides of Osiris, or Priestesses of Isis.’
I was aghast. ‘Are you implying that Mary Magdalene was a bride of Osiris, the Egyptian God?’
Lea’s smile was wide now, and her teeth were like a flock of sheep, each one whiter than the next.
‘Why is this so strange to you, pairé? In another life, Mary Magdalene had been a priestess, yes, but she came again to be the first bride of Christ. Not in a physical sense – in a spiritual one. You see how misunderstandings arise?’
‘That may be…but what of her travelling to France on a boat? What do you make of that?’
‘Once again, pairé, you must look for the hidden truth; the soul is the woman in every man. In this tale, the soul is not just a woman, however, it is also a vessel, a boat, and it travels upon an ocean of time. In this boat there is a child, the spirit, waiting to be born. These understandings came to France and inspired your troubadours, who sing of a love for a lady, though she is not a woman at all. She is their soul, seeking the spirit.’
I was confused. ‘Oh, Lea…I am a feeble-minded man, all this talk of souls and boats and children and spirits – all of it confounds me!’
‘Do not be too impatient, pairé, soon you will understand, just listen to me again…’
She began to tell how Mary Magdalene had to suffer many things before she could find her way to Christ.
And I wrote it down, as best I could.
‡
From the day she was born, all could see the child was blessed. For not only was she quick of mind and full of mischief, she was also possessed of physical attributes rarely seen wholly together in one parcel.