A Stray Drop of Blood (3 page)

Ester’s gaze was still focused on the absent, but her hand came up to engulf Abigail’s. “‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.’” Their gazes met, and a smile even crept onto her face. “We will learn a lot in these coming years, you and I. And when Jason returns, he will find two women worth more than any jewels that bedeck the finger of Caesar.”

Abigail did not smile, but her face relaxed. It was more than she could imagine right now, growing up beside this woman. So many changes . . . only two days ago her mother had been alive, eager to tell Silas the news of their new child; now Abigail was an orphaned slave who had not even seen her mother into the tomb. How could she possibly see far enough into the future to visualize herself as a woman? How could she survive the night, alone in that unfamiliar chamber that moments ago she had thought wonderful? How could she even now keep the tears at bay?

“
I understand that your loss is far greater than mine, Abigail.” Ester tilted her head up with a gentle finger. “I may be parting with my son, but he will return. You do not have that hope. And while nothing can replace a mother, I will do all I can to comfort you. We shall help each other through these times.” She smiled. “Take the rest of the day to rest. Our house will be busy with Jason’s departure, but there is no reason for you to get involved. Tomorrow I will have Simon knock to be sure you are awake with the others, and he will instruct you in the daily preparations.”

Abigail nodded and took a step back as Ester rose from her seat. “I will see you in the morning,” the elder said in farewell, leaving the room with grace that Abigail knew she could never muster.

She made her way back to her room but did not immediately close the door, as there were no windows to provide light. A lamp sat on the floor, but she had no desire for illumination. So she took a moment to look again at the space, her eyes finding first the other portal directly across from her. She fully intended to open it soon, just so she would know exactly where it let her out. But not yet. First she would take a nap; sleep had been impossible the night before. She took another second to notice the crudely fashioned chest, small but sturdy, in the corner, the only other object in the room. Then she closed the door and let herself drop down on the pallet, settling down with her eyes closed tightly against reality.

“
Father Jehovah,” she prayed almost silently, “I know you are with me still. And since you will never forsake me, I ask only that you have mercy on your servant. I realize I will never be a man nor even free, but what I am is your doing.” Sensing that if she said any more it would be more accusation than worship, she ended quickly and determined to fall asleep.

Chapter Two

Andrew took his master’s sword as Cleopas reached for a water skin. The men emptied from the training field, headed for their midday meal. Andrew relaxed his stance for the first time that day and cast his gaze toward the Visibullis house. From this distance, he could barely make out the figures on the rooftop. Ester would be the one pacing, Abigail the small dot sitting down.

Cleopas looked that way too, and his lips curved up. “Ester says their lessons are going well.”

Andrew barely contained a laugh. “Abigail says it is useless to teach a slave girl as if she were son of the high priest.”

His master’s brows arched, amusement in the quirk. “
Our
Abigail said that? To you?”

“
To Dinah.” He shook his head and looked toward the females again. In the year she had been with them, Abigail had yet to share so big a piece of her mind with anyone but Dinah. Strange as it seemed, he would have sworn it was pride that kept her so humble with the rest of them.

“
Well, she shall have to get used to it, my wife will settle for nothing less than a daughter to instruct.” Mischief combined with merriment in Cleopas’s eyes. “Perhaps I shall take a role in her schooling as well. If she is learning Greek and Hebrew so well, she ought to learn Latin, ought she not?”

Andrew shifted uncomfortably. It was no great secret that his command of his master’s language was minimal, in spite of the lessons Cleopas had given him. “Certainly she would benefit from your tutelage, Lord.”

“
You will sit in on them too, Andrew. More structured, regular lessons will help you as well.”

Andrew swallowed back the desire to groan and focused on his gratefulness for a master who took such interest in them. “I am honored by your attention, Lord.”

Cleopas chuckled, proving he was not fooled. A commotion behind them stopped any response he may have made, however.

A glance that direction had Andrew stepping back into his place behind his master, reaching for his waterskin as subtly as possible. The unmistakable plume of the general towered over the milling soldiers, headed their way. Andrew focused on invisibility while Cleopas straightened to his full height and snapped to attention. “Good day, General.”

“
Cleopas.” The general stopped beside them with a slight smile. “Your men are in good form. At this rate, we shall inspire Caesar to expansion once again.”

Cleopas chuckled and relaxed his shoulders a bit. “Not unless Augustus’s will has changed overnight. Tiberius would never disobey it.”

The general grunted and shifted from one foot to another. “I trust you have heard that my wife has joined me here.”

“
Of course. Is she settling in well?”

“
She complains of being lonely. When she learned that my prefect was married, she immediately requested that you and your wife join us for dinner on the morrow. I promised to do all in my power to convince you.”

Andrew sucked in an unobtrusive breath as Cleopas’s shoulders edged back. In all his time in the Visibullis house, Andrew could not recall an occasion when any of his master’s Roman friends had made an overture to include the mistress in their social gatherings. And given that all of her Hebrew family had disowned her upon marrying Cleopas, she had become an expert on loneliness.

“
We would be happy to join you.” Cleopas’s voice sounded even, undoubtedly confident to the general. But Andrew heard the thickness beneath the words.

Perhaps a new season was upon them.

~*~

Abigail stared at her master without blinking.

Cleopas looked to be battling back a grin. “I know you are capable, Abigail. What are your objections?”

She focused her gaze the ground, as she made it a point to do when she spoke. “I simply do not wish to disappoint you, Master. But your servant is of small mind.”

Cleopas laughed, which brought her gaze back to his for half a moment. “If ever there was a child of greater mind, Abigail, I have yet to find her. Ester has kept me updated on your progress this past year, and she is very pleased. You, my child, have a strong mind, and you learn quickly. For example: how long has it been since you began your studies of written Greek?”

“
One month, Master.”

“
One month. And already you can read the letters I have provided and translate them into written Hebrew.”

“
My mother taught me both languages, Master.”

“
The spoken versions, though, correct?”

“
Yes, Master.”

Cleopas turned to Andrew, who stood with a muted grin in the corner of the room. “Andrew, did you grow up speaking both Greek and Hebrew?”

“
Yes, Master.”

“
And have you learned the written forms?”

“
Not well. I know enough to carry out your business.”

“
And how long since I began tutoring you?”

“
Five years, Lord.”

“
Well then.” Cleopas turned back to Abigail. “Either I am a miserable teacher in comparison with my beloved wife, or you, Abigail, have a mind for learning. Which do you think, Andrew?”

Andrew smiled at the verbal trap. “I believe that Mistress is a splendid tutor and Abigail a quick learner both; moreover, I hold that Abigail will learn just as quickly under your direction.”

There was no point in arguing further, if argument was even a proper name for the small objection she had raised upon interrogation. She dutifully took her place at the table in the kitchen and waited for the two men to get settled. Truth be told, she knew she
could
learn the language. But she should not. Ester had started their relationship as one more appropriate for a mother and daughter, but Abigail knew she was not in that position. It did not matter that the woman had given her softer, more becoming clothing; it did not matter that she instructed her in the arts of womanhood, as well as lessons that should be left to free men. She was a slave girl. It was the portion the Lord had given her. Why try to pretend otherwise?

“
Shall we begin with verb conjugations?” Cleopas asked.

“
Yes, Master,” she replied. “Are they similar to the Greek?”

“
Somewhat.” His eyes went to his other student, who squirmed as if in pain. Cleopas smiled. “Let us begin.”

~*~

“
Mistress, I will never finish your hair if you do not sit still.” Abigail bit back a smile and put a calming hand on Ester’s shoulder. The lady’s excitement mounted with every moment, but the complicated Roman style she had desired for her hair would never be finished at this rate. It was difficult enough to begin with.

“
Sorry.” Ester chuckled but held herself still. “I am nervous. All these years, I have been alone, and now I do not know how to identify myself. What if they see the Roman style and think me pretentious? Or if they eye my Hebrew dress and decide I am out of mode? Will they think my jewels–”

“
Mistress.” Abigail put the pin she had held back onto the table and wrapped her arms around Ester. “What they will see is a woman of great beauty. And they will be pleased to see you trying to show how pleasing you are to be seen with.”

As Abigail had hoped, Ester laughed, gave her a quick hug, and drew in a steadying breath. “Well said, little one. Your mind amazes me daily.”

“
I am but your humble servant.”

Ester snorted and turned for her hair to be finished. “So you say. Now, let us finish so that you can change. I have a belt for you, so that we match.”

“
I will complement you as best I can.” She picked up one of the last free lengths of hair, coiled it. Wrapped it into the space she’d left on Ester’s head, and pinned it until it was secure. Then she picked up the headpiece of gold that her mistress had chosen and slipped it over her head from ear to ear. “Mistress . . . what will I be doing tonight?”

It was not a question she would usually dare to ask, but she had no desire to make a fool of herself or the woman she had come to adore.

Ester hummed. “I do not know. In all likelihood, they will have servants to perform your usual tasks. Unless they provide other instruction, let us say you should remain close to me to serve in the ways only you know how to do.”

With a dip of her head, Abigail fastened Ester’s ornate necklace and then stood back to survey her work. “I will make you proud, Mistress. If they care to look, they will see that your handmaiden serves you out of love.”

Ester placed a soft hand on Abigail’s cheek. “And if they look further, they will see the mistress loves her servant. Now run along, little one, and put on your linen tunic. Then I will brush your hair.”

She had long ago given up arguing about that, since Ester derived such pleasure from it. After a nod, she slipped out, into her closet, and quickly changed.

Within the hour, the family set off into Jerusalem. Abigail took her place beside Andrew, behind the Visibullis couple. Ester traveled a half step behind Cleopas, but still he defied custom by constantly turning his face around to converse with her. Perhaps in Rome they were not so strict about such things.

For a moment, Abigail simply admired the sway of her mistress’s hips, the graceful stride with which she moved. But Andrew snagged her attention with a clearing of his throat, and her gaze moved up to him.

He offered a tight smile. “Be careful tonight, little one. I do not believe the master mentioned it to the mistress, but the general’s wife specifically asked for them to bring us so that she might see what kind of maidservants are to be had from among our people.”

Abigail frowned up at her fellow servant. “Should I behave any differently than usual?”

“
No, but I wanted you to be aware. Our house . . . they treat us better than most. They recognize us as people, as individuals. In all likelihood you will be studied tonight as a piece of merchandise, and you are not accustomed to that. I did not want you to be surprised.”

She nodded, but her mind flitted back to the cold, hard gazes of Silas and Rebekka. True, she had only been in their household for a year, but even when Mother lived, Abigail had received worse treatment from them than at the hand of these, her legal masters.

Andrew drifted a step closer. “Do you miss your mother much?”

Was she so transparent? Gaze on the ground again, Abigail saw no reason to lie. He could undoubtedly see the sheen of tears in her eyes anyway. “I do. And my father, who died a year before she did.”