The Galileans: A Novel of Mary Magdalene by Frank G. Slaughter Page A

pay well and we need their gold. Besides, I never dance without Hadja and his men, and any one of them could kill a man with his bare hands. Don’t worry, Joseph. I will be safe even in Tiberias.”
VII
    Mary was in the garden overlooking the lake a few days later when the messenger from the procurator was ushered in. She had been learning a new song, and she put down the lyre as the visitor bowed before her. He was tall and imposing in appearance, but when she looked closer she saw that his ears were slit, showing that he was a slave.
    “I am the nomenclator of Pontius Pilate, procurator of Judea,” the man said loftily. “Where is she who is called Mary of Magdala?”
    Mary’s heart jumped. “I am Mary of Magdala,” she said. What could Pontius Pilate possibly want with her? she wondered.
    “The procurator bids you attend a supper to be given at his villa in Tiberias this very evening, to sing and dance for his guests.”
    “Are you sure he wants me?” she asked incredulously.
    “Quite sure. He has heard of your dancing in the streets of Tiberias.”
    The thrill of being summoned to the procurator’s palace swept from her mind all memory of Joseph’s warning a few days ago and the unsavory things she had heard about the orgies held in the Roman villas at Tiberias. She thought only that here was a chance to earn some of the money, perhaps a large part of it, that Demetrius needed to take them to Alexandria.
    “Will you come?” the slave asked politely, although his manner said it was unthinkable that a Jew should refuse the summons of the Roman governor of Judea.
    Mary had recovered her poise now. “You may tell your master that I shall be honored to dance before him and his guests this evening,” she said with considerable dignity. “My musicians and I will be there at dusk.”
    The nomenclator ’s eyebrows rose. “The governor has his own musicians.”
    Now Mary remembered Joseph’s warning. “I dance to no music save that played by my own troupe,” she said firmly. “They accompany me wherever I go.”
    The slave shrugged. “Bring them then. Perhaps Gai—the procurator forgot to mention them.”
    Mary did not notice the slip. She was too busy wondering whether to ask about money now or wait until after she had danced. As the slave was turning away she said quickly, “Could you tell me what my pay will be?”
    “Entertainers do not ordinarily demand pay for pleasing the procurator,” the nomenclator explained. “It is enough to say they received a summons to appear before him.” But seeing the disappointment in her face, he added kindly, “It is customary, however, to throw a purse to those he likes.”
    “A purse? How large?”
    “No sum is set. A thousand sesterces, perhaps, if you prove particularly agreeable to him.”
    “A thousand sesterces!” Mary gasped, but quickly recovered her composure. “Of course I shall be honored to dance for your master, whatever the purse,” she said graciously.
    The nomenclator bowed again, as if he were enjoying this little farce. “Can you direct me to the house of the leech, Joseph of Galilee, here in Magdala?” he asked.
    “What has Joseph done?” Mary asked quickly.
    “The procurator’s lady would have the services of the leech at once.”
    Quickly Mary gave the necessary directions to Joseph’s home. “If you see him,” she added, “please don’t tell him I am dancing tonight.” She blushed. “I have a reason for the request.”
    When the slave was gone, Mary rushed to the room where Demetrius was bedded with a cold, solaced no little by a bottle of wine she had brought from Capernaum that morning. “Demetrius!” she cried excitedly. “Demetrius! The most wonderful thing has happened!”
    “Simon has sent more fish,” he groaned. “I am beginning to look like one.”
    Mary laughed and threw her arms about his neck. “Better than that. Would a thousand sesterces take us to Alexandria?”
    Demetrius was accustomed to her rich