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Authors: Naomi Alderman
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suddenly impatient.
“Jerusalem, yes, very well. A good place to find new followers, but then what? Will you wander like this forever? Like a tent-dweller,
with no place to find rest?”
“God will show me. God Himself and no other.”
She frowned.
“You should come back to Galilee. We have fine pastures, the fishing is good. Bring your people there. Settle. Be a great
man in Galilee. Yes!”
“It is not mine to decide. I follow the will only of God.”
And this enraged her. Thinking of all she had done for him and how he was as stupid as a stone.
“Grow up,” she said. “The will of God is all very well, but we must also plan for ourselves. Be a man.”
“Like my father?”
“I will bring your father!” She could not control herself now, she took any weapon to throw at him. “He will come here with
your brothers and they will bring you back home and stop all this nonsense!”
Yehoshuah looked at her benignly. She felt afraid of him. What a foolishness, to be afraid of her own small boy.
“I love my father,” he said.
“That is not what you used to say,” she snapped back.
“I have learned a great many things,” he said.
“And you have not learned to send for your mother, or send her word that you are well, or write to her, or give her the honored
place at your table.”
He drew her to him and kissed her on the top of her head. “Ima,” he said, “you will see such things, you will be amazed.”
But he would not come home.
“Gidon is my grandson,” she says.
The tax collector knows her, and all her children and grand-children. He does not believe her. She can see his disbelief in
his face. She will have to try harder.
“He is my grandson, son of my son Yehoshuah, who died. He got him on a whore in Yaffo many years ago and I did not know it
till last year, when he came”—here she makes her voice waver like an old, grieving woman—“when he came and found me and told
me signs and I saw in his face that he must be that child.”
The tax collector laughs. He mutters something to the soldiers and they chuckle too. The mood has changed again. She does
not know what they are joking about. That she has taken in the son of a whore, who could be any man’s? That she boasts of
it? That she has been deceived by an obvious fraudster looking for an easy home and meals provided? Perhaps among all this
they will not notice another lie.
“He came last year, you say? About when?”
“In the summer,” she says quickly, “between the Feast of Seven Weeks and New Year.”
Around the square, there are looks from one to another, another to a third. It is a hard thing she is asking of them. If none
of them contradict her, they will all be accomplices. If Rome finds out they have lied, the whole village will burn.
The tax collector looks at them suspiciously, waiting to see if any will break. No one speaks.
“Well,” he chuckles, “if you have a whore’s son in your home, don’t let us detain you! Perhaps you find him as skillful as
his mother!” He chuckles to himself, then, evidently disappointed by the lack of laughter from the crowd, translates his joke
for the soldiers, who are as amused by it as he.
No one speaks to her after the soldiers leave. Rahav and Amala and Batchamsa are all there, but they do not embrace her or
comfort her. Their looks are wary.
At last, Rahav says, “You have put us in danger, Miryam.”
It’s true. She will have to set it right.
Gidon comes down from the mountain after two days. He has heard what she’s done before he sees her, she can read it in his
solemn face.
He looks different now from the way he was when he first came to Natzaret. Working outdoors has weathered and darkened his
skin. He is not so thin, that’s her good stews and bread. The place where they took off his fingers has healed to a fine silver
scar across the end of his right hand. The way he works now you’d think he’d been born
“Jerusalem, yes, very well. A good place to find new followers, but then what? Will you wander like this forever? Like a tent-dweller,
with no place to find rest?”
“God will show me. God Himself and no other.”
She frowned.
“You should come back to Galilee. We have fine pastures, the fishing is good. Bring your people there. Settle. Be a great
man in Galilee. Yes!”
“It is not mine to decide. I follow the will only of God.”
And this enraged her. Thinking of all she had done for him and how he was as stupid as a stone.
“Grow up,” she said. “The will of God is all very well, but we must also plan for ourselves. Be a man.”
“Like my father?”
“I will bring your father!” She could not control herself now, she took any weapon to throw at him. “He will come here with
your brothers and they will bring you back home and stop all this nonsense!”
Yehoshuah looked at her benignly. She felt afraid of him. What a foolishness, to be afraid of her own small boy.
“I love my father,” he said.
“That is not what you used to say,” she snapped back.
“I have learned a great many things,” he said.
“And you have not learned to send for your mother, or send her word that you are well, or write to her, or give her the honored
place at your table.”
He drew her to him and kissed her on the top of her head. “Ima,” he said, “you will see such things, you will be amazed.”
But he would not come home.
“Gidon is my grandson,” she says.
The tax collector knows her, and all her children and grand-children. He does not believe her. She can see his disbelief in
his face. She will have to try harder.
“He is my grandson, son of my son Yehoshuah, who died. He got him on a whore in Yaffo many years ago and I did not know it
till last year, when he came”—here she makes her voice waver like an old, grieving woman—“when he came and found me and told
me signs and I saw in his face that he must be that child.”
The tax collector laughs. He mutters something to the soldiers and they chuckle too. The mood has changed again. She does
not know what they are joking about. That she has taken in the son of a whore, who could be any man’s? That she boasts of
it? That she has been deceived by an obvious fraudster looking for an easy home and meals provided? Perhaps among all this
they will not notice another lie.
“He came last year, you say? About when?”
“In the summer,” she says quickly, “between the Feast of Seven Weeks and New Year.”
Around the square, there are looks from one to another, another to a third. It is a hard thing she is asking of them. If none
of them contradict her, they will all be accomplices. If Rome finds out they have lied, the whole village will burn.
The tax collector looks at them suspiciously, waiting to see if any will break. No one speaks.
“Well,” he chuckles, “if you have a whore’s son in your home, don’t let us detain you! Perhaps you find him as skillful as
his mother!” He chuckles to himself, then, evidently disappointed by the lack of laughter from the crowd, translates his joke
for the soldiers, who are as amused by it as he.
No one speaks to her after the soldiers leave. Rahav and Amala and Batchamsa are all there, but they do not embrace her or
comfort her. Their looks are wary.
At last, Rahav says, “You have put us in danger, Miryam.”
It’s true. She will have to set it right.
Gidon comes down from the mountain after two days. He has heard what she’s done before he sees her, she can read it in his
solemn face.
He looks different now from the way he was when he first came to Natzaret. Working outdoors has weathered and darkened his
skin. He is not so thin, that’s her good stews and bread. The place where they took off his fingers has healed to a fine silver
scar across the end of his right hand. The way he works now you’d think he’d been born
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