Chapter 12

The old woman stopped Mary before she could continue. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Mary was a bit confused by the woman’s quick change from wanting her to continue with the story, to wanting to stop. But Mary agreeded, not wanting to be impolite. It then occurred to Mary that maybe the woman wanted her to leave. “Maybe I should go and look for the others. I don’t know where my brothers are. I’ve stayed long enough.” Mary stammered through her words. “Oh no, dear. You can’t leave yet, you’re not prepared. I’ll go get some water for you to wash with and then I’ll braid your hair.” Before Mary could protest, the old woman laboriously got up and went into another room. Mary wondered what the woman meant by not being prepared. She got up from the mat and stretched her aching limbs. She looked at her arms and legs and realized for the first time, how dirty she was. She began to try and rub the dirt off her body but found that only a good scrubing would work. The sun began to set outside the small window and Mary was astonished at the lateness of the day. Had she been talking for that long? Before she could manage another thought, the old woman walked back in the room with a large bowl of water and a cloth. Mary immediately went to help the woman as the bowl was large and water was sloshing over the edge of the bowl from the sharp movements of the woman. “Thank you dear.” The woman said. “Now you wash up while I go and fix us our evening meal.” She looked at Mary and saw a look of concern. “I insist!” As the woman began to walk away, Mary spoke up. “I don’t know your name.” The old woman never looked back or slowed her stride, she just raised a hand in wave and said, “What’s in a name?” “I’d like to know who to thank, Mary shot back with a bit of hesitation.” “Thank the God of heaven!” she shouted from out of sight. A sudden grip of fear struck Mary as she thought this all a trap of the Romans or the High Priest. The trust she had for the woman, just a few moments ago was wavering with the refusal of the womans name. As Mary stood, frozen, still holding the bowl of water, the woman came from around the corner and looked at her intently. “I am neither a friend of the Romans or the High Priest. I want to help you, not harm you. My name is Miriam. But if you don’t trust me, you are welcome to go.” Miriam moved closer into view of Mary and turned slightly to show her profile. “As you can see, I have little chance of chasing you down.” Miriam smiled and returned to her meal preparations. Mary sat hard on the mat, spilling water on her lap. She smiled at Miriams comment and began to wash her face.