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Pericope

By Jeff Keene II

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Chapter 1

She did not belong here. Not in this room. Not in this house. Not even in this part of Jerusalem.
The temple did look beautiful from here, though. Its glory shone in every direction. Pericope thought there was something unique about its appearance from this particular window.
Stretching out to the east she could see the Valley of the Cheesemakers. From the third floor she could gaze down upon the residents who worked and traveled along the edges of its sloping sides. Reflected light brightened the golden structure as it gleamed in the setting sun’s light. Rows of houses and large arched passageways bridged the wealthy Upper City and the Temple Mount.
The warm light reinforced the Jew’s belief that their god truly was alive within the temple’s walls of stone, directing his glory down upon Jerusalem’s citizens, and even upon this window.
She dismissed the impression.
​Pericope had perched there every evening for the last week enjoying the splendid sunset. But the view only offered a vague hope that her prayers would be answered. That she could escape. Much had taken place to lead her to this bedchamber that was not her own.
With that thought, she tore her gaze away from the Holy Temple. Guilt, remorse, and self-loathing percolated within her, leading to feelings of unworthiness that banished the moment of peace. With her head drooping, she turned away.
Pericope murmured, “How can I fix this?”
A groggy male voice came from a low bed positioned against the wall opposite Pericope’s perch. “What?”
A gentle breeze moved the translucent, cream-white, linen curtains so they brushed against her light brown face. The draft carried the scent of dinner cooking from the street below.
“Meat?” She sniffed the air again like a dog catching a scent.
But then she remembered where she was. This was the Upper City. Zion. White marble villas and palaces of rich and powerful Jewish families and high-ranking Roman officials stood out, as pompous and arrogant as its residents. Meat, while a rare expenditure in her home, was enjoyed frequently here. The smell made her stomach ache in anticipation.
Pericope said to her companion, “I was just talking to myself again.” She sauntered across the room making her footfalls as soft as possible.
“Well, stop,” Manasseh said cheekily. “I’m trying to rest. Your visits do tend to tire me out.”
Cascading onto his bed, she said, “I’m hungry. Can we eat? Maybe Niva can bring us some soup, or figs and wine from the kitchen?” She used her beautiful smile to persuade him.
“In a while. Wait until the sun has fully set. You know what would happen if Niva, or anyone else for that matter, saw you in here with me.”
Humiliation reminded her of the differences between them.
Manasseh, her lover, at eighteen, was the youngest son of the famous and wealthy Kathros family. Their prominent and aristocratic lineage stemmed from a long ancestry of priests traceable far back into Hebrew history. The Kathros family served the temple exclusively.
With a priestly pedigree, Manasseh was a Sadducee in training for the sect of Jewish priests who focused on the Law of the Torah. Every ‘Son of Kathros’ was expected to enter the priesthood and serve the temple. His family was well known for their production of the temple incense used for worship and the wealth they gained from it. However, they had a reputation for dishonesty and abused their position for political and monetary gain.
Pericope knew Manasseh was different than them. “You still want out, don’t you?”
She could see he was contemplative.
“Of course. I’m tired of my family’s corrupt, oppressive, and power-hungry hypocrisy.”
The public attitude towards his birthright weighed heavily upon Manasseh’s soul and he wanted to escape. To anywhere. Pericope had given much thought to just disappearing into the night with him, never to return. Just leave it all behind. But the fear of separation from his wealthy surroundings and privileged lifestyle always kept him from taking action…until now.
“I would never have believed escape was possible until I met you, Pericope.”
Her knowledge of the world outside the city could help free them from their burdensome obligations in the city. Manasseh had no desire to become a priest. His oldest brother, Upaz, was already on his way towards the priesthood, serving as a temple treasurer. His other two brothers, Lowt and Betsalel, always eager to please their father, were less polished.
Pericope and Manasseh, now both fully clothed, awaited Niva, a family servant, to bring them food.
“It’s too bad you don’t join your family for meals any longer.”
“What? And sit around the table in chairs, arguing and gossiping? I’d rather eat alone in my bedchamber.”
Pericope was more comfortable eating while seated on a floor mat. “Rather eat alone, would you?” She turned away from him, pretending to be slighted.
Pericope enjoyed Manasseh’s company. Slimly built, he was younger than other men she had entertained. He reminded her of her first husband, Acaph. But Manasseh was fiercely independent, and virile. His hairless face looked younger than eighteen and he had the most unique dimple in his left cheek.
“Alone…with you.”
In a society where women were often treated with disdain by men, being with Manasseh made her feel liberated. He encouraged her to display her intelligence and humor. With him she felt so confident and energetic that her conscience allowed their relationship to go almost unquestioned.
She turned back to him and smiled. “Tawditha, my love.” Her affectionate thoughts faded quickly when she heard approaching footsteps on the stairs.
Pericope hid on the far side of the bed in order to remain unseen. Manasseh disliked surprise visits to his bedchamber. Other than intruders, his frequent avoidance of assigned religious curriculum was another reason to have ample warning. He purposefully kept the stairs littered with small stones and lentils, which made slight but detectable cracking when stepped on. It also angered the servants who were made to sweep the stairs. If he heard the telltale sound, he would quickly right himself under the nearest lamp, open a scroll, and pretend to ponder the scriptures.
Niva was poised to enter the room when she stopped suddenly at the threshold.
“Hmph,” was the only vocalization she mustered to announce her arrival.
Niva was ten years older than Manasseh, but also younger than the other Kathros family servants. Unable to utter any decipherable speech due to an unfortunate incident in her youth, she communicated to her fellow servants by guttural sounds and a rudimentary sign language. The Kathros family could understand her gestures, but they remained an enigma to outsiders such as Pericope.
Pericope shifted her position, hoping that Niva would be too desensitized by the darkness to see anything out of order. My robes are still on the table by the window!
Pericope could hear Niva sniffing the air in long, drawn in breaths. The same breeze that brought the smell of cooking from the window earlier now carried through the room an aroma even more pleasant. It was a scent that Pericope had been known for in her own circles. Spikenard. The rare plant was used in creating the most expensive perfumes known at the time, as well as unguents, medicinal salves used for many ailments.
Hoping Niva was ignorant to its origin, Pericope realized how curious Niva had become as she stood in the curtained doorway hold the tray of food.
“Niva,” called Manasseh from the floor. “Is the scent of soiled robes and moldy bread too much for you?”
Pericope snickered. Manasseh attempted to cover up the telltale sound with a quick shuffling of his feet on the wooden floor.
Pericope was hoping it was the room’s low light level that caused Niva to pause.
She heard Manasseh say impatiently, “Niva, I’m on the floor. Watch where you step and put the tray down here.”
Pericope noted Manasseh’s tone when he spoke to his servants. She was used to being spoken to that way by aristocrats when making deliveries to the Upper City and working in the markets. This was the nature of servitude. She had never been anyone’s servant, but at this time in Jerusalem, all Jews and non-citizens were talked down to by the Roman occupiers. She wished for Manasseh to recognize his own hypocrisy.
Niva grunted an obligatory response of compliance. Her ambivalence and curious sweeping glances around the room gave Pericope a sense she was growing suspicious. The amount of food they had been requesting was twice what a single person could eat at one sitting.
The number of fine plates and bowls, painted with burgundy and black floral patterns, were tightly packed on the tray and produced a multitude of clinking sounds as Niva knelt down to place it on the mat. Manasseh dismissed her quickly and waited while light crunching marked her descent in the stairwell.
Using the diminishing sounds of Niva’s footsteps to guide her decision, Pericope emerged from her hiding place.
Her attempt at fascinating Manasseh with her grace as she glided across the floor was a success. Her normally veiled soft curls swept across her shoulders. With each stride, her long beautiful legs peeked out from her linen tunic. He was entranced. She knew he had been with other women before, and like Pericope, he had kept them a secret from his family.
“Not one of those women was as beautiful as you, or made me feel the way you do,” he would promise her.
“Even the fetching Roman governor’s daughter?” she teased. “I’m certain she was worth her weight in her father’s gold.”
“Your laughter is more intoxicating than treasure. And your stories of the world outside the city are far more captivating than a governor’s daughter.”
With each passing night they spent together, she felt the morning came too soon. She longed to spend the days with him, as well. But for now, that was an impossibility.
They ate peacefully, watching through the window the last vestiges of sunlight being replaced by the soft glow issuing from several oil lamps spread throughout the room.
The meal consisted of items that she was only accustomed to having during the annual feasts. It was at these feasts, about three times per year, when the population of Jerusalem grew to more than thirty thousand pilgrims and residents. The sales from her family’s business brought in enough money for such niceties.
Her family! She wished she had not thought of them right now. Her eyes grew wide and she shied away from Manasseh.
“What’s wrong?”
“Uh…nothing. I’m just not used to all of this…rich food.” She feigned a small hiccup at which Manasseh chuckled.
“I thought, since this is our last night together for a while, you’d enjoy something other than just bread and figs.”
“Tawditha,” she said, giving appreciation for Manasseh’s hospitality. Manasseh seemed content.
In front of them, an array of items including warm vegetable soup, fresh bread, roasted lamb, and even sour pickled watermelon rinds sat in the tray. It was also decorated, as was the custom in many wealthy homes, with fruit and nuts. Upon finishing her share of the meal, Pericope began sampling these, much to the amusement of Manasseh.
He asked slowly and with concern, “What are you doing?”
“Having dessert,” she innocently replied as she noshed on the colorful assortment.
“We…don’t typically eat those.”
Pericope stopped chewing and froze. Her eyes widened in fear as she began to think of reasons why these were not eaten by his family.
With her mouth full of half chewed nuts she asked, “Why not?”
“They’re more of a…garnish than a course in the meal. Mother always says, ‘When the guests begin to eat the trimmings from the table, it is time to send them home.’”
Embarrassed, Pericope put the remaining nuts in her hand back on the tray and washed what was in her mouth down with the rest of the wine from her cup.
“Oh. Sorry. Are you going to send me home now?”
Manasseh looked at her as if trying to decide how to answer her question, but instead began to laugh. She joined in, but not without first swatting him on the arm for his joke at her expense.
Although Pericope was a few months younger than Manasseh, at seventeen she was far worldlier than he was led to believe, and also keener at detecting dishonesty. She knew he was teasing her about the garnish, but played along for the fun of it.
Even though she had only known him for about a week, she felt like she could trust him and also sensed that he needed her. She needed him, too, but for different reasons.
They enjoyed each other’s company for the remaining hours of darkness until she had to steal away before sunrise. The activity of the servants’ morning preparations would make her presence known if she left too late. She needed to get out of the Upper City and return to her husband’s home in time to prevent any suspicion from both parties.

To some we are a scent of death leading to death, but to others, a scent
of life leading to life. – 2 Corinthians 2:16

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