A Voice in the Wind (69 page)

As he came out of the room, several of the young women he had bought to attend Julia stood nearby, wide-eyed with terror. “You’re free,” he said, and when they only drew back a few steps, looking at him as though he had gone mad, he shouted, “Get out!” They ran from him.

He went into the inner courtyard and leaned over the open well. Scooping up some water, he splashed his face. Breathing heavily, he leaned down, intending to put his whole head in the water, when he saw a rippling reflection of himself.

He looked Roman. His hair was cropped short, and there was gold about his neck. Grabbing the front of the gold-embroidered tunic, he ripped it from his body. He snatched off the medallion of a saluting gladiator and flung it across the courtyard, then threw back his head and cried out in savage rage, the sound of it rising and growing until shepherds heard it on the hillsides.

34

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Phoebe sent word to Marcus and Julia to come immediately, that their father was dying. She told the servant who went for Julia, “Be sure she brings Hadassah with her.”

Marcus arrived first and went in to his father. When Julia arrived, Phoebe was relieved to see Hadassah beside her. Julia went in, but stopped when she neared the bed. It had been weeks since she’d seen her father, and the devastation of his illness shocked and repulsed her. With a strangled cry, she fled the room. Phoebe quickly caught up with her. “Julia!”

She turned and spoke as she walked backwards. “I don’t want to see him like this, Mother. I want to remember him the way he was.”

“He asked to see you.”

“Why? To tell me I’ve disappointed him? To curse me before he dies?”

“You know he wouldn’t do that. He’s always loved you, Julia.”

Julia put her hand over her abdomen, distended from her advanced pregnancy. “I can feel the baby moving. It’s not good for me to be in there. I mustn’t get upset! I’ll wait in the peristyle. I’ll stay there until it’s over.”

Marcus came out and saw his sister on the verge of hysteria. He put his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to her,” he said.

Phoebe turned away, looking at Hadassah and holding her hand out to her. “Come with me,” she said softly, and they went in together to Decimus.

Hadassah felt an overwhelming compassion for her master. A skillfully woven blanket of white wool was drawn up over his emaciated body. His arms lay limply at his sides, blue veins standing out against the whiteness of his thin hands. There was the smell of death in the room, but it was the look in his eyes that made her want to weep.

Marcus brought Julia in. She had gained control of herself, but the moment she saw her father again, she began to cry. When Decimus turned his sunken eyes on her, she cried harder. He lifted his hand weakly. When she hesitated, Marcus gripped her shoulders and pressed her forward. He pushed her down into the chair beside the bed, and she covered her face with her hands and bent forward, weeping profusely. Decimus laid his hand on her head, but she shrank from his touch. “Julia,” he rasped and reached out to her again.

“I can’t,” Julia cried out. “I can’t bear this.” She tried to push past Marcus.

“Let her go,” Decimus said weakly, his hand falling limply to his side. He closed his eyes as Julia hurried from the room. They could all hear her weeping as she ran down the corridor. “She’s young,” he rasped. “She’s seen far too much of death already.” His breathing was labored. “Is Hadassah here?”

“She’s gone to be with Julia,” Phoebe said.

“Bring her to me.”

Marcus found her in a small alcove in the peristyle, comforting his sister. “Hadassah. Father wants to see you.”

She took her arms from around Julia and rose quickly.

Julia’s head came up. “Why does he want to see
her
?”

“Go,” he commanded Hadassah and then turned to Julia. “Perhaps he needs more comfort than you do, and he knows he can get it from her,” he said, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

“Nobody understands me,” she said bitterly. “Not even you.” She started to cry again. Marcus turned away and strode after Hadassah. “No one knows what I have to bear!” Julia called after him shrilly.

Hadassah entered and went to stand at the foot of the bed where Decimus could see her. “I’m here, my lord.”

“Sit with me a while,” Decimus rasped. She came around the bed and knelt beside it. When he lifted his hand limply, she took it gently between her own. He sighed. “So many questions. No time left.”

“Time enough for what’s important,” she whispered. She pressed his hand gently. “Do you want to belong to the Lord, master?”

“I must be baptized…”

Hadassah’s heart lifted, but she had seen enough death in Jerusalem to know there was no time left to carry him into his own baths.
Oh, please, God, give me your wisdom, forgive my lack of it
. She felt a flooding warmth and an answering assurance.

“The Lord was crucified between two thieves. One mocked him. The other confessed his sin and said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom,’ and the Lord answered, ‘Truly I say unto you, today you shall be with me in paradise.’”

“I have sinned greatly, Hadassah.”

“If you but believe and accept his grace, you will be with the Lord in paradise.”

The troubled look left Decimus’ eyes. His trembling hand took hers and placed it on his chest. She spread her hand over his heart. “Marcus…” His breathing rattled in his chest. Marcus leaned down on the other side of the bed.

“I’m here, Father.” Marcus grasped his father’s other hand.

Decimus took his son’s hand weakly and placed it over Hadassah’s. He put both of his hands over theirs and looked at his son.

“I understand, Father.”

Hadassah glanced up as Marcus closed his hand firmly around hers.

Decimus gave a long, slow sigh. His face, so tensed and marred by years of pain, relaxed gently. It was finished.

Marcus’ fingers loosened, and Hadassah quickly drew her hand free, but as his mother came forward, Marcus raised his head and looked straight into her eyes. Heart leaping, she clenched her hand against her chest and stepped back from the bed.

“He’s gone,” Phoebe said. She gently closed her husband’s eyes. Leaning down, she kissed his lips. “Your suffering is over, my love,” she whispered, and her tears wet his peaceful face. She lay down beside him and put her arms around him. Resting her head on his chest, she gave in to her grief.

“Of course, it was too much for you,” Primus said, pouring Julia more wine. “It was cruel of them to expect you to sit and watch your father die.”

“I went to an alcove and waited there.”

Calabah took Julia’s hand and kissed it tenderly. “There was nothing you could do, Julia.”

Vaguely discomforted by Calabah’s kiss, Julia jerked her hand free and stood up. “Perhaps my presence would have comforted him.”

“Would your presence have changed anything?” Calabah said softly. “Was your father even coherent at the end?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there,” Julia said, fighting tears, knowing Calabah saw them as weakness.

Calabah sighed. “And now you’ve let them make you feel guilty. Isn’t that right? When will you learn, Julia? Guilt is self-defeating. You must use the power of your own will to overcome it. Focus your mind on something that pleases you.”

“Nothing pleases me,” Julia said miserably.

Calabah’s mouth turned down. “It’s this pregnancy that’s made you so emotionally fragile. A pity you didn’t have an abortion sooner.”

Julia’s fingers whitened into a fist. “I won’t have an abortion at all. I’ve told you that before, Calabah. Why do you keep suggesting it?” She glared at her, her hand resting protectively on her swollen abdomen. “It’s Atretes’ child.”

Calabah’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “You don’t still hold any hope that he’ll come back to you, do you?”

“He loves me. Once he’s thought things over, I’m sure he’ll come back.”

“He’s had several months to think things over, Julia, and you have heard nothing from him.”

She turned away. “I’ve sent Hadassah to him. She’ll make him see the child is his.”

“And you think that will make any difference?”

“I’m surprised you trust that treacherous little Jew,” Primus put in, full of hate for the slave girl.

“Hadassah isn’t treacherous,” Julia snapped. “She knows I was never with another man after I was with Atretes. She’ll tell him. Then he’ll come back and beg me to forgive him.”

“She’ll probably try to steal him from you the way she’s trying to steal my Prometheus.”

“Hadassah isn’t the least bit interested in your catamite!” Julia said in disgust.

“You don’t think so? I saw her sitting in that alcove with Prometheus, and she was holding his hand! Tell me now she’s innocent!”

Calabah smiled faintly, her dark eyes glowing with feral pleasure. “Perhaps the boy is tiring of you, Primus,” she said, fanning his jealousy into hotter flame. “You did find him when he was very young, before he had yet tasted all this world has to offer him.“

Primus’ face paled.

“The suggestion is ridiculous,” Julia said haughtily. “Hadassah’s a virgin and will stay that way until she dies.”

“Not if your brother has any say about it,” Primus said.

Julia stiffened. “How dare you!”

Undaunted by her anger, Primus leaned back, fully satisfied with the impact of his words. “Open your eyes, my dear Julia. Do you think Marcus comes to see you? He comes to see your slave.”

“That’s a lie!”

“You think so? That first day, when he came to tell you Atretes had sent for you, do you remember? Perhaps not, as you’d had a little too much wine. As you dozed unaware, I saw Marcus come out. Your Jew was standing right over there, waiting for him beneath that arch. He took her hand and, I can tell you, the look on his face was a sight to behold.”

“Didn’t you say your father asked for her?” Calabah said with calculated curiosity. Julia looked at her, her lips parting.

Calabah cast a glance at Primus and shook her head. “And still the child trusts her,” she said. She looked up at Julia again, her dark eyes full of pity.

“You’ve sent a viper to your lover,” Primus said viciously. “Do you know what she’ll do? She’ll do exactly what she’s done to my Prometheus. She’ll sink her fangs into Atretes and fill him with poisonous lies.”

Julia was trembling violently. “I won’t listen to you. You talk like a spiteful
woman
,” she said and turned her back to them.

“You tell her, Calabah,” Primus said in frustration. “She’ll listen to you.”

“I don’t need to tell her,” Calabah said calmly. “She knows for herself already. She simply hasn’t developed the courage yet to do anything about it.”

Hadassah stood in the burned-out ruins of the villa Atretes had purchased for Julia. “He’s not here,” a man standing nearby told her. “He’s out there in the hills somewhere, completely mad.”

“How do I find him?”

“If you’re wise, you’ll leave him alone,” the man said and left her there in the rubble.

Hadassah went out and prayed to God to help her find Atretes.

She wandered about the hills for what seemed hours before she saw him sitting on a hillside, staring down at her. His hair was like a mane, and he wore a loincloth and bearskin cape. A deadly looking spear was in his hand. His blue eyes glared at her coldly as she came up to him.

“Go away,” he said in a chill, dead voice.

She sat down beside him and said nothing. He glared at her long and hard, then turned his eyes from her and stared out over the valley, back toward the great city. For hours he sat that way, unspeaking, cold and hard as stone. Hadassah sat beside him in silence.

The sun descended and the valley fell into darkness. Atretes rose, and Hadassah watched him walk along a worn pathway that led into a cave. She followed. Entering, she saw he was laying wood for a fire. She sat down against the wall.

Grabbing up his framea, he pointed it at her. “Get out of here or I’ll kill you!” She looked from the framea up into his eyes. “
Get out
! Go back to that harlot you serve!” She didn’t move, nor did she seem afraid. She simply looked up at him with those beautiful brown eyes so full of compassion. , Atretes drew back slowly and lowered the framea. Glaring at her, he turned his back and hunkered down before the fire, determined to ignore her.

Hadassah lowered her head and prayed silently for help.

“She expects me to come back, doesn’t she? She still thinks she has a hold over me.”

Hadassah lifted her head. His back was to her, and he was bent over the flickering flames. She was filled with sorrow for him. “Yes,” she answered truthfully.

Atretes came to his feet, his body taut with the power of his rage. “Go back and tell her she’s dead to me! Tell her I swore to Tiwaz and Artemis that I’d never look upon her face again.” He went to the opening of the cave and stood staring out into the darkness.

Hadassah rose. She stood beside him and looked out at the starry night. She remained silent for a long while and then said very softly, “The heavens tell of the glory of God, and their expanse declares, the work of his hands…”

Atretes went back inside the cave and sat down. He raked his fingers through his golden hair and held his head. After a moment, he took his hands down and looked at them.

“Do you know how many men I’ve killed? One hundred and forty-seven.
Recorded
.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I probably killed fifty men before that, Roman legionnaires who marched into Germania thinking they could claim our lands and make us slaves without a fight. I killed them with pleasure, to protect my family, to protect my village.”

He turned his hands over and stared at his palms. “Then I killed for Rome’s pleasure,” he said bitterly and made fists. “I killed to stay alive.” He raked his hands into his hair again. “I can remember the faces of every one of them, Hadassah. Some I killed without the least regret, but there were others…” He closed his eyes tightly and remembered Caleb kneeling and lifting his head for the final death stroke. And his German countryman. Atretes remembered driving the framea through the young clansman’s heart.