She rose from the garden and called to Elizabeth inside the house. “Our visitors are arriving.”
Elizabeth appeared at the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Yes, yes, Mama. All is prepared.”
The two youngsters circled Mary, excited with their news.
“Papa is keeping their horses by the gate to give us time to come tell you.” Benjamin exclaimed.
“There are three of them,” stated Adam.
“Two are simply dressed,” continued Benjamin.
“The other has a fine cloak,” shouted Adam.
“And a sword this long!” Benjamin stretched his arms out wide.
Mary peered down the path. “They’re walking up. I’ll go wash my hands and put on my apron. Now, calm down, you two.”
She made her way toward her small house as the boys ran back down the path to greet the three men.
Mary, wearing a new apron, was standing outside the door alongside Elizabeth as the trio approached. The two plainly dressed men stopped into the clearing and bowed to Mary. The swordsman wore a military cloak. He gave Elizabeth a smile and a nod. His eyes turned to survey the area surrounding the cottage.
“Shalom,” said the younger of the two men. He then addressed Mary in the old tongue.
“Mistress, we are grateful for your kindness in receiving us. Shall we speak in the old language or in Greek?”
She realized she was staring at the other man. He closely resembled her second son, James, who had died in Jerusalem five years before.
She responded in Greek to the older man. “Forgive my rudeness. You bear the likeness of one of my sons.”
“I am honored. I knew your son James in the early days. I regret his death.”
He bowed. “I am Barnabas.” He gestured to his companion. “Mark. I am his cousin and scribe.” His cousin bowed again. “And our watchful guardian from the Chief Elder’s household is Felix.”
The swordsman gave Mary a nod and his gaze returned to an inspection of the surrounding woods.
“Why is a guardian needed?” Mary asked.
“These are troubled times,” Mark answered.
Mary gestured toward the doorway. “My daughter Elizabeth. Please come in. Elizabeth has prepared refreshments for us.”
“Thank you,” Mark replied as they walked to the house. “Felix prefers to wait outside to prevent interruption by unwanted visitors.”
Her grandsons had edged closer to Felix. He smiled at them and drew his sword from its scabbard and displayed it to them.
“Adam. Benjamin. That’s enough. Back to your father now!” Mary clapped her hands and they ran off, Benjamin almost tripping as he turned for a last look at Felix. The swordsman laughed and gave him a fierce look before he sheathed his sword.
Bread, cheese, and fruit were set on the long table. Elizabeth offered a bowl of water and a towel for the two men to wash their hands.
They sat on benches by the table and exchanged pleasantries for a period deemed long enough by Mary.
“We rarely have visitors nowadays,” she noted. “I am not clear as to why you have chosen to visit me.”
Mark began. “Holy Mother—”
“Please.” Mary held up a hand. “I have no use for such titles. I said as much to Paul when he visited years ago.” She snorted. “Strange little man. He was so sure of himself when he persecuted apostates. And then so sure of himself when he preached and taught the Way.”
“He was transformed by your son,” protested Barnabas. “And the change was sincere, as we can attest. We both have traveled with him.”
“Paul had his own time in the wilderness,” Mark added mildly, watching Mary. “Much longer than your son Jesus did.”
Mary raised her hand again. “Enough. Tell me why you wish to see me.”
Mark responded. “Mistress, we are returning to Antioch soon. We stay a short while in Ephesus. We simply wish to pay our respects.”
“Fine words. The Chief Elder in The Community here sent news of your coming. I sense there is more to this matter than paying respects.”
Mark and Barnabas exchanged glances.
“Oh, come, come,” Mary exclaimed. “I am near my eightieth year. If all we are to do is bandy words about, you may see me in my grave before all is done.” She turned to her daughter. “Elizabeth, fetch the wine and cups. Perhaps the drink will loosen their tongues.”
Mark chuckled as Elizabeth brought the ewer and poured from it into three cups.
“You have a reputation in The Community for frankness. I am glad to see it is true.”
“Too frank by far. That is why it was arranged for me to live here.”
“Mama!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Daughter, it was before you came.” Mary turned back to the men. “Now, speak to me plainly.”
“Very well,” Mark replied. “You know of Peter’s death?”
“Ah, Peter. Simon by birth name. Strong as an ox from pulling the nets on the Sea of Galilee. Peter the rock, my son renamed him in Greek. He had a hearty laugh, as I remember. A man of strong passions but possessed neither of courage or a great mind.”
“Mistress, I must protest! His faith was firm to the end, crucified by soldiers on Nero’s order.”
Mary pursed her lips. Eyes narrowed, she peered at Mark.
“It was long ago but I have not forgotten the story of what happened. Peter and his comrades snoring in Gethsemane instead of keeping watch with my son as he prayed. And later Peter denied three times that he was a follower. Myself, I would have cursed Peter for his dereliction and rejection.”
“But the Master did not.”
“My son had a weakness in that way.”
“You cannot believe this!”
Mary leaned back. “There are things that are mine to believe.”
“I tell you truly,” Mark retorted, “that Peter himself spoke of the shame of that night. He also told me how the Master forgave him later, by the Galilean Sea.”
“So you say.”
Barnabas could contain himself no longer at the end of the table.
“Peter was a tremendous
