A Voice in the Wind (72 page)

“Would that be so wrong? Shouldn’t a wife put her husband above all else?”

“Not above God, never above God. It would mean death to both of us.”

His temper rose. “No, it wouldn’t. Loving me instead of this god of yours would mean
life
, life as you’ve never experienced it. You’d be free. No yoke on you.” When she closed her eyes, he uttered a curse. “Why must we always come back to this god of yours?”

“Because he
is
God, Marcus. He is
God
!”

He gripped her face tightly. “Don’t turn away from me. Look at me!” When she obeyed, he knew she was slipping away from him, and he didn’t know how to hold on to her. “You love me. You said you did. What do you have with him? A yoke of slavery. No husband. No children. No home to call your own. And a future, stretching on and on, of nothing but the same.” His hold gentled. “And what would I give you? Freedom, my love, my children,
my passion
. You want those things, don’t you? Tell me you don’t, Hadassah.”

The tears came, slipping down her pale cheeks as she tried so desperately to stand firm. “I do want those things, but not if it means compromising my faith, not if it means turning away from God. And that’s what it will mean. Don’t you see, Marcus? If I provide for this life and turn away from the Lord, I am wise for a moment, but lost forever.” She put her hands tenderly over his. “And so are you.”

Marcus let her go.

Hadassah saw the look on his face: hope gone, pride shattered, defensive rage rising. She wanted to reach out to him. “Oh, Marcus,“ she whispered brokenly, hurting and afraid for him. What if they did marry? Would her faith justify him? Her resolve weakened. ”Oh, Marcus,“ she said again.

“It’s a pity, Hadassah,” he said sardonically, fighting the emotions choking him: love for her, hate for her god. “You’ll never know what you threw away, will you?” He turned from her and strode out of the room.

Blind to everything around him, Marcus went down the corridor, taking the stairs two at a time.

Julia watched him go from where she was standing just outside the door. Her hand balled into a fist. She had heard Hadassah reject him. A slave had turned down her brother! She felt his humiliation. She felt his rage. She shook with it.

Looking into the room, she saw Hadassah on her knees, bent over, weeping. Julia watched her coldly. She had never hated anyone so much in her life. Not her father, not Claudius, not Caius. No one.

She had been blind to what Hadassah was. Calabah had seen: “She’s salt in your wounds.” Primus had seen: “She’s a thorn in your side.” Only she had been fooled.

She returned to the triclinium.

“Is Marcus gone?” Primus said, clearly getting drunk.

“Yes, but Hadassah is remaining here for a while longer,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady and not give her feelings away. Primus was far too shrewd, and she didn’t want him weaving mortifying stories to shame her brother. “I told him I’m not ready to part with Hadassah yet,” she lied.

Primus swore to the gods. “When will you be ready?”

“Soon,” she said. “Very soon.” She stood at the archway and looked up. Hadassah came out of the room, carrying a wash bucket, going about her duties as though nothing had happened. “Didn’t Vitellius invite us to a feast celebrating Emperor Vespasian’s birthday?” she said.

“Yes,” he said, “but I declined for you.” His mouth twisted mockingly. “I told him you lost our baby and were bereft with grief over it.”

The mention of her child sent a dull pain through her. She would not let him see his words had struck their mark. “Send word I’ll be attending.”

“I thought you loathed Vitellius.”

She turned and gave him a disdainful smile. “Indeed, but I find I have use for him.“

“And what use would that be, dear Julia?”

“You’ll see, Primus. And I think you’ll enjoy the play as it unfolds.“

Phoebe heard Marcus return. She came out eagerly from her chambers and saw him climb the marble steps. Her heart sank when she saw his face. Sensing her presence, he glanced up.

“Hadassah will remain with Julia,” he said and walked into his room.

Distressed by his countenance, she followed. “What happened, Marcus?”

“Nothing I shouldn’t have expected,” he said blackly and poured himself some wine. He lifted his goblet in a toast. “To her unseen god. May he take pleasure in her faithfulness!”

Phoebe watched her son drain the goblet dry and then stare at it bleakly. “What happened?” she asked again, softly.

He set the goblet down hard on the tray. “I forsook my pride and she threw it back in my face,” he said in self-contempt. “That’s what happened, Mother.” Marcus went out onto the terrace, and Phoebe followed him. He gripped the railing. Her hand slid gently over his.

“She loves you, Marcus.”

He jerked his hand from beneath hers. “I offered to marry her. Would you like to know her answer? She said she didn’t want to be yoked to an unbeliever. There’s no reasoning with a faith like hers. There’s no compromise. One god! One god above all else! So be it. Her god can have her.”

He turned away, his knuckles whitening on the rail again. “It’s over, Mother,” he said grimly, determined to put Hadassah behind him. An evening at the baths would help him forget her. If not, Rome had many more exciting pleasures to help a man obliterate his frustrations.

36

Contents
-
Prev
/
Next

The Ethiopian dancers moved with increasing violence to the beat of drums as Vitellius’ guests supped on ostrich and pheasant. Julia’s heart beat in time to the drums, faster and faster, until she thought she would faint. Then,
boom
, the dance ended, the drums stopped, and the half-naked dancers adorned with colorful plumes flew from the room like frightened exotic birds.

The moment had come. Her breathing still quickened, Julia raised her hand slightly, summoning Hadassah. No one noticed the small Jewess; she was just another maid among the dozens who served their masters and mistresses. Julia dipped her hands into the bowl of warm water that Hadassah held for her, and wondered how long it would be before Vitellius noticed the sash around her maid’s small waist.

Hadassah knew something was wrong. She had been glad of Julia’s command that she attend her at Vitellius’ feast. Primus had always insisted one of the other maids attend Julia. This evening, though, he hadn’t quibbled about Julia’s decision… and now Hadassah sensed that Julia had another, darker purpose for her insistence that she be present. As she stood, holding the bowl of water, people began staring at her and whispering. Hadassah felt a warning prickle on the back of her neck.

Julia slipped the towel from Hadassah’s arm and dabbed at her hands delicately.

Primus leaned close to her. “Do you know what you’re doing, Julia?” He forced a smile, pretending a nonchalance he was far from feeling. “Vitellius is glaring at us as though we carried the plague into his house. Send Hadassah away. Send her away now.”

“No,” Julia said and lifted her head slightly, staring straight into Hadassah’s eyes. A cold smile curved her lips. “No, she’s going to stay right here.”

“Prepare yourself, then. Vitellius is coming over and he looks greatly offended. If you will excuse me, my dear,” Primus said, rising, “I will share a story with Camunus and leave you to explain yourself to our host.”

The guests grew quieter as Vitellius made his way to Julia. “Put the bowl down, Hadassah, and pour me some wine,” she said.

Hadassah felt Vitellius’ presence without raising her head; his hatred was like a tangible presence surrounding her. Her throat went dry, her heart beat like a trapped bird. She looked at Julia in appeal, but her mistress was smiling up at her host in greeting. “Vitellius,” she said, “you lay a most impressive table.”

Vitellius ignored her flattery and stared with loathing at the striped sash around Hadassah’s waist. “Of what race is your slave?”

Julia’s eyes widened. “Judean, my lord,” she said and those nearby fell silent. Frowning, she glanced around her in apparent innocence. “Is something wrong?”

“Jews murdered my only son. They besieged Antonia Tower and broke in to slaughter him and his men.”

“Oh, my lord, I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“A pity you didn’t,” he said, his dark gaze still fastened on Hadassah. “Mad dogs, all of them. The spawn of scorpions. Titus should’ve exterminated them from the face of the earth.”

Julia rose and placed her hand on his arm. “Hadassah isn’t like those who took your son’s life. She is loyal to me and to Rome.”

“Do you think so? Perhaps you are too kind and naive to understand the treachery of her race. Have you tested her?”

“Tested her?”

“Does your maid worship at the temple of Artemis?”

“No,” Julia said slowly, as though the admission caused her to think.

“Has she burned incense to the emperor?”

“Not publicly,” Julia said, and Hadassah’s heart sank at her words. As though sensing her silent plea, Julia looked at her, and it was then Hadassah knew. Julia had brought her to this deliberately.

“Test her as you desire, Vitellius,” she said smoothly, a dark triumph glowing in her eyes.

“And if she refuses to proclaim Vespasian a god?”

“Then do to her as you see fit.”

Vitellius snapped his fingers and two guards came and stood on either side of Hadassah. “Stand her over there for all to see,” he commanded, and they took her arms. She went with them without resisting. They stood her in the center of the marble floor where the Ethiopian dancers had just performed and turned her to face Vitellius.

“Put the emblems before her.”

The guests gathered closer, curious and eager to see what she would do. They whispered among themselves. Some laughed softly. The emblems were brought in and placed before Hadassah. She knew she had only to proclaim Vespasian a god, light the slender reed, and put it to the incense as an offering to him, and her life would be spared.

“Do you see how she hesitates?” Vitellius said, and the frightening promise in his tone made Hadassah tremble.

Lord, you know what’s in my heart. You know I love you. Help me.

“Take up the flame, Hadassah,” Julia commanded.

Hadassah reached out slowly, her hand trembling violently. She took a slender reed and placed it to the flame.

Oh, God, help me.

And the Word came to her, filling her. “
I am the Lord your God, and there is no other.‘”
She took her hand from the reed and watched it curl and blacken in the flame. Guests began whispering.

The soft voice whispered through her mind. “
Take up your cross and follow me
.” Hadassah put her hand over her heart and closed her eyes “God, forgive me,” she whispered, ashamed that she had almost given in to fear. “Don’t forsake me.”

“Lo, I am with you, even to the end of the age.”

“Take up the flame!”

Hadassah raised her head and looked at Julia. “The Lord, he is God, and there is no other,” she said simply and clearly. Astounded and angered, everyone spoke at once.

“Strike her,” Vitellius said, and one of the guards struck her hard across the face.

“Vespasian, he is god,” Julia said. “Say it!”

Hadassah stood silent.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Vitellius said coldly.

“She’ll say it. I’ll make her say it.” Julia went to her and slapped her. “Speak the words. Speak them or die!”

“I believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”

“A Christian!” someone whispered.

Julia struck her again. “The emperor is god.”

Hadassah looked at Julia through a blur of tears, her face laced with pain, her heart breaking. “Oh, Julia, Julia,” she said softly, wondering if this was how Jesus had felt when Judas kissed him.

The desire to avenge her brother’s broken pride had set Julia on this path, but it was her own jealousy that made her erupt into violence. Uttering a feral scream of rage, Julia attacked Hadassah. The guards stepped back as she beat the girl with her fists.

Hadassah took the blows with soft cries of pain, but made no effort to defend herself. Julia stopped when Hadassah was on the floor, unconscious. “You can have her, Vitellius,” she said and kicked her in the side.

“Haul her up and take her to Elymas,” Vitellius ordered, and the guards obeyed. “He pays five sesterces per victim for his lions.”

Atretes came awake with a deep, guttural cry and sat up. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart galloping. Panting, he raked shaking fingers through his hair and stood. He strode to the entrance of his cave and looked back toward Ephesus. The Artemision was there, glistening like a beacon in the moonlight. It wasn’t in flames.

He wiped the beads of sweat from his face and went back inside the cave again. He knelt down and covered his head.

The dream had been so real, he could still feel the power of it. He wanted to shake himself free of it, but it came, night after night, bits and pieces of it clearer until he knew he would never be free until he understood its meaning.

And he knew the only one who could tell him the meaning was the one who had come to him the night before the dreams had begun.

Hadassah.

The guard of the lower dungeon threw the bolt. “What are the odds on Capito surviving against Secundus, Atretes?” he asked, eager for tips on how to bet at the games. Atretes didn’t answer. And after a look at the German’s hard face, the guard asked no more questions.

The sound of the Roman’s hobnailed sandals sent Atretes back to Capua. As he followed the guard, the smell of cold stone and human fear made the sweat break out on his skin. Someone cried out from behind a locked door. Others moaned in despair. Then, as they kept walking, Atretes heard something coming from the far end of the dank environs-a sound so sweet that it drew him. Somewhere in the darkness a woman was singing.

The guard slowed, tilting his head slightly. “Have you ever heard a voice like that in all your life?” he said. The singing stopped, and he walked more briskly. “A pity she’s going to die with the rest of them tomorrow,” he said, pausing before a heavy door. He threw the bolt.