Her perfume preceded her into the room . . .

It was a perfume that was quite distinct, slightly sweet, definitely spicey, perhaps with a bit of turmeric and a trace of cloves. It heralded her coming, much like the first traces of wakening after being asleep all night, not quick, but insistent. It was a scent that many had sampled as they walked the narrow streets of town, a scent that wafted like a fragrant whisper from “those” places. Often the scent was associated with rowdy laughter and words tangled with a giddy giggling; never was it associated with proper morality.

Several heads turned so quickly that you heard an audible cracking of vertebrae popping; many cast sidelong glances to see if their noses were betraying their eyes; some, those already facing the entrance, stared with indignation. Instantly the air was filled with whispers as though a swarm of bees had entered the room.

And then she appeared. Timid, cautious, skittish. Had someone said “boo,” she may have turned and fled. But everyone was so shocked that she’d entered the room that no one spoke; they just glared. Her eyes feverishly searched the room. Dozens of pairs of eyes looked back, none friendly. Then she saw him. He wasn’t handsome or appealing. Yet, he had a presence, an aura, a silent power. He was looking directly at her. His eyes almost seemed to be smiling, beckoning her towards him.

At that moment it was as though she was looking through a tunnel; all the glares disappeared into an unfocused blur. He was the only thing in focus. And she moved towards him in a determined manner — nothing would deter her from her task.

Cradled in her arm like a newborn child was a flask, an alabaster flask. It had cost her a year’s wages. It held her life’s savings and she was protecting it as though it belonged to the Emperor. In the flask was the perfume. A perfume of immense value. Worth almost six figures, it represented almost two decades of demanding, brutal, degrading labor. She wore just a trace of the perfume, yet it permeated the room as though she had used it liberally.

As she reached him, she fell to her knees and quickly removed the wooded plug from the flask. Instantly the aroma flooded the room; and just as quickly his “bodyguards” were on her, lifting her from her knees, causing her to almost drop the flask.

“No!” It was a command that was meant to be obeyed. A voice that carried power. A sound that had brought galaxies into existence. “Leave her alone!”

“But it’s worth a fortune! It could feed hundreds!”

“What right does she have to waste such a treasure?”

“Do you know who she is?’

The voice reprimanded, “She honors me. Do you understand? She honors me for who I am and what I will do. She is more astute than you are. Let her be!”

Arms that held her abruptly and brusquely dropped her. She fell to her knees with a hard thud, carefully cradling the open flask. The tears had already begun, not sobbing, but a steady, silent rain. She quickly poured the fragrance over his feet and used her calloused hands to spread the elixir over, under and around his feet and ankles. Lacking a towel, and no one volunteered one, she undid her thick, dark hair and allowed it to tumble over his feet. Using her hands, she dried the oily residue from his feet with her unbundled hair, unconcerned with the knotting and matting that was taking place.

To the amazement of all, she covered the feet with kisses. The whispering grew incessant.

“Quiet!” Instantly, it was so.

“Your wrongs have been corrected, they no longer exist. You are free. Take advantage of this gift and transform your life. Now go, and sin no more.”

And she did.