October 71 CE

The flame of the single clay lamp in its niche was tiny, but it cast a monstrous shadow against the plastered stone wall, mimicking Joseph’s every move as he placed the scroll into the shaking hands of his wife. His own hands, warm in spite of the chill of the ebbing night, remained cupped tightly around hers. Miriam locked his eyes with her own, willing him to let her go so she could unroll the parchment for one last time… “When I leave the fortress, I will never return. I do not know if there is anyone left in Jerusalem to help me fulfill the mission Elazar has entrusted to me. If our enemies among our own people are the only ones to have survived, I will not last out the day I am discovered, and no one will care whether our community ever finds out what happened to me. You would become agunah.”
    …Such a woman, her husband’s whereabouts unknown, was doomed to disgrace, robbed of her future. She could remarry only if her husband reappeared to divorce her, or if his death could be proven beyond all doubt. Though a widow for all intents and purposes, she would remain chained– agunah – to her husband for the rest of her life.
    Joseph released her as suddenly as he had grabbed hold of her, breaking abruptly into her thoughts of the past.
    “It is time.”
    He bent to fasten the final knot on his woven cord carry-basket, hoisting it onto his shoulder. He turned to face his wife and slipped his arms through hers. Lacing his fingers together at the small of her back, he pulled her toward him in the embrace she knew so well. But this time it was she who broke away, lowering her head to hide the tears.