The Galileans: A Novel of Mary Magdalene by Frank G. Slaughter Read Free Book Online Page B

Alexandrians, Herophilus, and Erasistratus—all had gone beyond the simple concepts of disease as a punishment from God or the effects of possession by demons. And Asclepiades of Bithynia had even dared to state categorically that, since the body was composed of disconnected atoms in constant movement, health was dependent upon the orderly movement of these minute particles, while disease resulted from a standstill of the atoms, or violent clashes between them. His principle of contrario contrariis in treatment had earned him the favor of kings. More than once in his own experience, too, Joseph had felt that the derisive advice of “ Medice, cura te ipsum [Physician, heal thyself],” was more truth than criticism.
    Simon the fisherman improved so rapidly that soon Joseph could find no excuse to hold him in Magdala. As he left the house one morning, having promised that Simon could return to Capernaum following tomorrow’s dressing, Mary came out carrying a lyre. “I am delivering this to the Street of the Dove Sellers,” she said. “May I walk with you?”
    He made way for her beside him, with the mule carrying his equipment following them. “I shall be sorry to see Simon leave tomorrow,” he told her. “For then I shall have no excuse to visit the house of Demetrius.”
    “But you can come to see us whenever you wish.”
    “If I come without being called, people will say I am paying court to you.”
    “No one has ever paid court to me, Joseph,” she said softly, and then her voice grew bitter. “The young men are afraid because their mothers call me Jezebel. Why is it a sin to want to be happy?” she demanded fiercely.
    “My mother does not think you are a Jezebel.”
    “I know.” She put her hand on his, and her fingers were warm and very much alive as they curled about his own. “She is sweet like you, Joseph, and I love her.”
    “I am going before the judges in about two months to become rophe urnan,” he told her.
    “Joseph!” she cried, her eyes shining. “That is wonderful!” Then her face grew sad. “But you will go to Jerusalem then; Magdala will be too small for you.”
    “My mother thinks I should marry and start practicing medicine for myself. She has already picked out the girl.” Mary did not look at him, but he saw her lips soften in a smile.
    “She is a very lovely girl named Mary of Magdala,” he added.
    “Don’t you have anything to say about the matter?” she asked demurely, her eyes twinkling.
    They were crossing a little park and at the moment were screened from view by a clump of trees. Joseph pulled her around to face him. “You know I love you very much, Mary,” he said.
    “As much as Philodemus loved Xantho in the song?”
    “That much and more,” he said quickly.
    “‘Too soon the music ends,’” she sang softly, her eyes shining. “‘Again, again repeat the sad sweet strain.’ But you don’t know me at all, Joseph. I am vain and forgetful.”
    “And very beautiful . . .”
    “Greedy and thoughtless . . .”
    “And lovable . . .”
    She stamped her foot in mock anger. “Will you let me finish? I am telling you that I am not the kind of a wife you deserve. I would embarrass you, and people would talk about me.”
    “What would all that matter when we loved each other?” He drew her close. “Is it because you don’t love me that you argue against me, Mary?”
    “Oh, I do love you, Joseph,” she said then, all in a rush. “I do. I do. But I love Demetrius, too, and he comes first.”
    “Demetrius himself told me he thought you might be happier married to the right man.”
    “He was only trying to protect me.” Suddenly she clung to him and he held her there, asking nothing more, content to savor the sweetness of having her in his arms. When she lifted her face from his chest, he kissed her and found the sweetness of her mouth mixed with the salt of her tears. Finally, she pushed him away and wiped her eyes upon the sleeve of his robe. “We