Read Online Mary of Nazareth by Marek Halter - Free Book Online

search for us everywhere. Do you think they’d ever think of looking for us here? Of course not! They’re much too stupid.”
    Miriam was sure he was right. But she wasn’t here to applaud him, although Barabbas did not seem to care about that.
    â€œI know you’re clever,” she said coldly. “That’s why I came to see you, even though everyone in Nazareth thinks you’re no better than a common bandit.”
    The laughter died down. Barabbas smoothed his beard and shook his head, as if attempting to restrain his temper. “The people of Nazareth are cowards,” he muttered. “All except your father, from what I hear.”
    â€œThat’s why my father is in Herod’s prison, Barabbas. We’re wasting time with this idle chatter.”
    She was afraid the harshness of her tone would make him angry. His companions lowered their eyes. Behind the group of women, Obadiah had gotten to his feet, a stuffed loaf in his hand, a frown on his face.
    Barabbas hesitated. He looked them all up and down. Then he said, with surprising calm, “If your father has your character, then I’m starting to understand what happened!”
    He pointed to one of the recesses in the painted walls surrounding the pool. It had been furnished as a kind of bedchamber. There was a straw mat covered with sheepskins, two chests, and a lamp. A silver pitcher and goblets stood on a large brass table framed by two wooden stools with bronze embellishments. Other furniture and luxury objects, doubtless stolen from rich merchants, had been placed around the recess.
    In spite of her impatience and nervousness, Miriam noticed Barabbas’s pride as he filled a glass with fermented milk mixed with honey and handed it to her.
    â€œNow tell me everything,” he said, making himself comfortable.

    M IRIAM spoke for a long time. She wanted Barabbas to understand how it had come about that her father, the gentlest and kindest of men, had killed a soldier and wounded a tax collector.
    When she had finished, Barabbas whistled through his teeth. “There’s no doubt they’re going to crucify your father. Killing a soldier and sticking a spear in a tax collector’s stomach…They won’t go easy on him.” He ran his fingers through his beard, in a mechanical gesture that made him seem older than he was. “And, of course, you want me to attack the fortress of Tarichea.”
    â€œMy father mustn’t die on the cross. We have to stop them.”
    â€œEasier said than done, my girl. You’re more likely to die with him than save him.” His words were ironic, but his face betrayed his discomfort.
    â€œSo be it, then,” Miriam replied. “Let them kill me with him. At least I won’t have bowed my head to injustice.”
    She had never before spoken so vehemently or so categorically. But she realized that she was telling the truth. If she had to risk death to defend her father, she would not hesitate.
    Barabbas realized that, which made his own discomfort all the more intense.
    â€œCourage isn’t enough,” he said. “The fortress isn’t a field of beans you can just walk in and out of! You’re fooling yourself. You can’t get him out of there.”
    Miriam stiffened, and she pursed her lips.
    Barabbas shook his head. “No one can do it,” he insisted, striking his chest. “Not even me.”
    He hammered out these last words and looked her up and down with all the pride of a young rebel. She sustained his gaze, icy-faced.
    Barabbas was the first to turn away his eyes. He snorted, got up nervously from his stool, and walked to the edge of the pool. Some of his companions must have heard what Miriam had said, and everyone was looking at him. He turned, his face hard, his fists clenched, his whole body taut with the strength that had made him a feared leader.
    â€œWhat you ask is impossible!” he cried fiercely.