The New York Times bestselling author of The Splendor Before the Dark reveals the untold story of Mary Magdalene—a disciple of Jesus Christ and the most mysterious woman in the Bible. Was Mary Magdalene a prostitute, a female divinity figure, a church leader, or all of those? Biblical references to her are tantalizingly brief, but we do know that she was the first person to whom the risen Christ appeared—and the one commissioned to tell others the good news, earning her the ancient honorific, “Apostle to the Apostles.” Today, Mary continues to spark controversy, curiosity, and veneration. In a vivid re-creation of Mary Magdalene's life story, Margaret George convincingly captures this renowned woman's voice as she moves from girlhood to womanhood, becomes part of the circle of disciples, and comes to grips with the divine.  While grounded in biblical scholarship and secular research, Mary, Called Magdalene  ultimately transcends both history and fiction to become a “diary of a soul.” Praise for Mary, Called Magdalene “The premise of Ms. George’s novel is intriguing...With rigorous research, [she] paints the landscape and rituals of Judea.”— The New York Times “[An] expansive, thoughtful novel.”— San Francisco Chronicle More Praise for the Novels of Margaret George “An evocative portrait.”— The New York Times “If only history lessons had been like this.”— Cosmopolitan “Delicious.”— People “A scintillating historical novel.”— The Chicago Tribune “Engaging and intelligent fiction.”— Kirkus Reviews “Readers looking to be transported to another place and time will find their magic carpet here.”— Publishers Weekly (starred review) “Extensively researched with the highest integrity, and deeply engaging, it sets a new benchmark for the genre.”— New York Times bestselling author Alison Weir “An impressive feat of research and imagination.”—#1 New York Times bestselling author Diana Gabaldon Margaret George is the New York Times bestselling author of eight novels of biographical historical fiction, including The Splendor Before the Dark ,  The Confessions of Young Nero ;  Elizabeth I ; Helen of Troy ; Mary, Called Magdalene ; The Memoirs of Cleopatra ; Mary Queen of Scotland and the Isles ; and The Autobiography of Henry VIII . She also has coauthored a children’s book, Lucille Lost . She was carried to a place she had never been. It was much more vivid than a dream, it had a depth and a color to it, and exquisite detail that made it seem more real than the time with her mother in the courtyard, more real than the dreamy hours she spent sometimes looking out at the great lake of Magdala, the one so grand they called it a sea: the Sea of Galilee. She was elevated, put on a high pillar or a platform, she could not tell which. And all around her were people, gathering at the base of it, looking up at her. She turned her head to the side and saw that other pillars had other people on them, that there was a whole row of them, stretching as far as she could see. The sky was a yellowish color, the color she had only seen once, when there was a sandstorm. The sun was blotted out, but there was still light, diffuse golden light. Then someone came to her-were they flying, was it an angel, how did they get there?-and took her hand and said, "Will you come? Will you come with us?" She felt the hand holding hers, and it was smooth like a piece of marble, not cold, not hot, not sweaty, but perfect. She wanted to squeeze it but dared not. "Yes," she finally said. And then the figure-she still did not know who it was, she dared not look at the face, only at the feet in golden sandals-lifted her up and took her away, and the journey was so dizzying that she lost her balance and began to fall, to plummet, and it was very dark beneath her. She sat up with a jolt. The oil lamp had burned out. Outside she could hear the gentle sound of the water of the great lake, not far from her window, as it lapped the shore. She held out her hand, felt it. It was moist. Was that why the being had let her go, had dropped it? She rubbed it hard. No, let me cleanse my hand! she cried out, silently. Don't abandon me! I can wipe it off! "Come back," she whispered. But the only answer was the stillness of the room and the sound of the water. She rushed into her mother and father's room. They were sleeping soundly; they did not need a lamp, they slept in darkness. "Mother!" she cried, grabbing her shoulder. "Mother!" Without permission, she climbed into the bed and huddled under the warm covers next to her mother. "What...what is it?" Her mother struggled to form words. "Mary?" "I have had such a strange dream," she cried. "I was taken up...into some heaven, I don't know where, I only know it was not of this world, it had angels, I think, or...I don't know what..." She paused, gasping for breath. "I think I was...I was called. Called to join them, called to become part of their company..." But it had been frighte