"You're going to leave Nazareth," I said.
"That I will do," she declared.
"No, you don't understand. Your kinsman, Hananel of Cana, he's written letters, he . . ."
"He's come to the very door this day," she said in a dark voice. "Yes, Hananel and his grandson, Reuben, and they stood before my father and asked for my hand."
She pulled back from me. She was shaking violently.
"And do you know what my father said to those men, to Hananel of Cana and his grandson, Reuben! He refused them! 'Do you think this broken cup,' he said, 'do you think this broken cup is your pot of gold!' "
She trembled as she drew in her breath.
I was speechless.
" 'I do not put that broken cup on the auction block,' he said. My father said . . . 'I do not put my shame in the marketplace for you to buy!' "
"The man's out of his mind."
"Oh, out of his mind, yes, out of his mind that his daughter Avigail has been handled, that she's been shamed! And he would have her die in her shame! To Reuben of Cana, he said this! 'I have no daughter for you. You go.' "
She stopped. She couldn't continue. She was so badly shaken that she couldn't get out her words. I held her shoulders.
"You are free of your father, then."
"Yes, I am," she declared.
"Then, you come home with me. You live under my roof until we get you away from this place and to our kindred in Bethany."
"Oh, what, the house of Caiaphas will take the humiliated and shamed country girl, the girl denied by her own father, her father who drove off every man who came to ask for her for two years, and has now slammed the door on Jason again, and on Reuben of Cana, Reuben who put his pride away and begged on his very knees!"
She pulled away from me.
"Avigail, I won't let you go."
She broke into sobs. I held her.
"Yeshua bar Joseph, do it," she whispered to me. "I'm here with you. Take me. I beg you. I have no shame. Take me please, Yeshua, I'm yours."
I began to weep. I couldn't stop it and it was as bad as it had been before she ever came, and as bad perhaps as her own weeping.
"Avigail, you listen to me. I tell you with God nothing is impossible, and you will be safe with my mother and my aunts. I'll send you to my sister Salome in Capernaum. My aunts will take you there. Avigail, you must come with me home."
She collapsed against me, and her sobs grew softer and softer as I held her.
"Tell me," she said finally in the smallest voice. "Yeshua, if you were to marry, would I be your bride?"
"Yes, my beautiful girl," I said. "My sweet beautiful girl."
She looked up at me, biting her lip as it quivered. "Then take me as your harlot. Please. I don't care." She shut her eyes as they flowed with tears. "I don't care, I don't care."
"Hush, don't say another word," I said gently. I took the edge of my mantle and wiped her face. I lifted her off my chest and I made her stand on her feet. I wrapped her veil around her, and threw the end of it over her shoulder. I closed her mantle so that no one would see the gold-trimmed tunic underneath. "I'm taking you home as my sister, my dearest," I said. "You'll come with me as I said, and these words and these moments will remain locked in our hearts."
She was too weary suddenly to answer me.
"Avigail?" I said. "You look at me. You will do as I say."
She nodded.