Miriam
A Tale of Judea in the Time of Christ
by
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Miriam, daughter of Malacchi, hated the Romans. All the people of Judea did. She, however, especially hated the centurion Gaius Fabius.
She disliked the way he looked at her in the market place. The way he smiled at her when he bought dates and almonds at her father’s stall in the market annoyed her. She absolutely hated the way he always wanted to talk to her in that hateful Latin of his.
Why can’t the Romans learn our Aramaic, she thought. No, we have to learn their horrible language. It sounds like the grunting and groaning of swine in the mud, she decided. Yes, pigs! The Romans would even eat those unclean things.
It was Miriam’s ability to learn languages that caused her father to make her work beside him in the market place. She learned the language of the Romans rather easily, and this fact made her father’s little fruit and nut stand very popular with the soldiers.
Her father was an expert at numbers and money. He knew just how many sesterces or drachmas it took to make a shekel, which could buy offerings at the Temple; and he knew when a moneychanger was trying to cheat him. She was proud of her father. Still, she wished she didn’t have to take coins from the Romans and that horrible Fabius.
He always wanted her to place his change in the palm of his hand, and he would try to touch her hand when she did. The brute had no manners. They were all the same, these Romans. They thought they ruled the world. Well, they wouldn’t rule Judea, and they wouldn’t rule her.
“I’ve brought you something, Miriam.” The voice of the centurion pulled her from her thoughts. She had been watching him from afar as he haggled (these Romans knew nothing about the proper way to bargain) with Joshua Ben Sira at his jewelry and trinket stand. “The merchant said it was real gold.” The centurion dangled a gold-colored chain from his callused hand.
“And how would you know? You know nothing of such things. All you Romans know is the way to oppress people.”
“Still, don’t you think it’s beautiful? I paid too much for it, I’m sure.”
“Let me see it,” her father said to her in their native language.
“Give it to my father. It’s unseemly for an unmarried girl to accept gifts from strangers, especially from those who are unclean.”
“I bathed only yesterday,” Gaius replied as he put the necklace into Malacchi’s outstretched hands.
“You’re not a Jew, you worship many gods—not the one.”
“You know little; I worship only one—Mithras, the creator and destroyer. But I have no quarrel with those who worship others, not even the Jews. I’m here in Judea only to do my duty.”
“And what is that duty, to keep the Roman boot of oppression on our necks?”
“I’m not a politician; I’m a soldier who obeys orders.”
“It’s real gold,” her father said in a low voice. “Joshua must have made him pay through the nose.”
Miriam took the chain from her father and returned it to Gaius Fabius. “Here, I cannot accept gifts of any value from a Roman. Tell the merchant you want your money back—you can always threaten him if he won’t; you Romans are good at that. Besides, you probably have a wife and children in Rome.”
“But it’s a gift—for you.”
“I cannot accept. People would talk.”
The Roman turned slowly away with the chain. “I have never married,” he mumbled. He did not return to Ben Sira’s stall. He walked in the opposite direction toward his barracks.
He’ll probably give it to some harlot now, she thought.
“What did you say to him?” her father asked. “It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, so delicate. Why did you give it back?”
“I told him I would take nothing from a Roman dog, a person who eats unclean animals and worships false gods. I told him he would better spend his money on wine and whores than a God-fearing woman like me.”
“Miriam, you will cost me business for sure. That centurion has always been civil to us, for a Roman. He never steals any fruit, or spits on it, or anything. Why can’t you be nice back?”
Miriam wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly had to hold back tears that were welling up in her eyes. She started to tend the fruit and nuts so her father couldn’t see her face.
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About the Book
Miriam: A Tale of Judea in the Time of Christ tells the story of a young Jewish woman who lives in Judea in the time of the Roman Empire’s occupation of that land. Miriam’s friends and family know her to be loving, courageous, and devout. They are both surprised and dismayed to watch her fall in love with a Roman centurion. The couple, living at odds with the desires of all who know them, face challenges to their love and, indeed, to their lives. A mysterious third party intervenes, leading the couple down a path to happiness.
About the Author
Frank Scotello was born the son of an Italian immigrant. The first in his family to attend college, he received a bachelor’s degree in English from DePaul University, a master’s degree in public service from Western Kentucky, and a master’s of English from the University of Chicago.
Frank is a retired lieutenant colonel from the U.S. Army. He was an infantry officer and was parachute and Ranger qualified. In the service, he also taught literature and English composition at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. After retiring in 1991, he taught college English in the Midwest.
In 1999, he changed careers and became a journalist. He was named the business editor of a daily newspaper after being a reporter for less than a year. After Sept. 11, 2001, he changed careers again. Because of his business writing, he tried his hand in that field. He became an investment representative and sold stocks and bonds.
Frank was married to his college sweetheart, Mary, for 45 years, until she passed in 2016. They have three grown children and eight grandchildren. He has published a number of essays, short stories, and poems. Now fully retired and living in Wisconsin with his wife’s little dog, Brutus, Frank provides content for a monthly bereavement newsletter.
He enjoys watching television, studying history, reading fiction, and exercising at the gym. He also tries to write—whenever he does not have to shovel snow from his long country driveway or mow his acre of weeds.