A Stray Drop of Blood (32 page)

And Abigail–Abigail had become the sole being in Samuel’s eyes already. He never looked away from her and was perfectly content to rest at her side all evening. He may have called her “Mistress,” but Jason knew well she would be his mother. And hopefully the excitement of the evening had worn her out enough that she would rest well tonight. Too often for his peace of mind, she tossed restlessly until dawn. It did not seem healthy.

He entered the garrison and greeted a few acquaintances, then began his rounds along the wall. As usual, the city was quiet as he gazed out across it, and the activity outside the walls was at a minimum. They had to be careful these days, with the threat of rebellion so strong, but still his night watches were usually peaceful and uneventful.

This night, however, it was not to be. It was not an external disturbance that called him from his position, though, but rather a familiar face.

“
I am to relieve you,” the centurion said wearily. “The general wishes to speak with you.”

Curious, Jason nodded and wasted no time in going to his superior. He found the general pacing the confines of the room, hands clasped behind his back. Jason had never seen the man look old before, but at that moment his face was haggard.

“
Jason.” He stopped, his eyes bright with–what? It was not just anxiety, but it was not fear. Guilt? “I need to speak to your wife.”

Jason stood agape. “Abigail? When?”

“
Now!” the general shouted, then drew in a calming breath. “It is imperative, Jason, or I would not ask you to wake her. It is Elizabeth, her friend, Julia’s slave.”

His lover, Jason thought but did not say. He merely nodded. “I will bring Abigail at once.”

It did not take him long to reach the house, and he entered quietly so as not to wake everyone else. He slipped into their chamber, where Abigail slept soundly. Sitting on the bed beside her, he gently shook her shoulder until he could see in the moon’s rays that her eyes opened.

“
Abigail, you must come with me to the general. It is about Elizabeth.”

He needed to say no more. Abigail pushed herself up, using him as leverage, and hurriedly dressed. She surely had a million questions sprinting through her mind, but she asked none of them. Jason was glad, since he had no answers. He grasped her hand and led her silently from the house and across the compound to his superior.

The general was once again pacing, and he once again stopped when his solitude was interrupted. He motioned without words to the chairs sitting before his table, and Jason helped Abigail into one, then stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“
What is wrong, General?” Abigail asked after a moment of silence.

“
Elizabeth.” The general sat across from her. “She went out this afternoon at Julia’s request; we have just discovered that my wife is with child, and she has not been well. She wished some food, or–” He visibly stiffened, became the stern commander. “Once before Elizabeth was carried back from the markets so ill she could not stand. You attended her. This time, Elizabeth was carried back dead. I want to know why.”

Abigail pressed a hand to her mouth. Jason felt the tension coil into her shoulders, would have sworn he heard the scream that sounded only in her mind. What must she be feeling? Her only friend . . . but his Abigail did not crumble. She threw up her chin and seethed instead.

“
I shall tell you why. She is dead because you took her to your bed. Because she had to hide it to keep from being stoned at the command of your wife. She was pregnant, General, and poisoned herself to be rid of it. The first time, she was fortunate; she survived. This time, she was obviously not so lucky.”

Once again, his commander looked old. “She never told me.”

“
Of course she did not tell you!” Her voice vibrated with rage. “It was your favor she lived for! If she lost that, what would she have? She was a woman without a husband, a slave without any hope.”

The general was obviously not accustomed to being chastised by anyone, especially a woman. His face mottled in rage, and the pressure of Jason’s hands on his wife’s shoulders intensified in warning. She took the advice and closed her mouth.

The general clenched his fist for a moment without saying anything, then burst out with, “Who gave her the poison? If you know, you will tell me!”

The prostitute’s face flooded Jason’s mind. The old eyes. . . bitter, but not so uncaring that she would let a young woman ruin her life.

Abigail drew in a breath. “I do not know.”

Jason skimmed his thumb over her neck softly to let her know that he approved of her deception.

The general brooded for a long moment, obviously debating whether or not to believe her. But eventually his eyes fell to the swollen abdomen on which her hands rested, to her face, undoubtedly etched with exhaustion, and then to Jason. He nodded. “Very well. I do not know what I shall tell Julia. She should not be distressed right now, and this will surely upset her. She was fond of Elizabeth. And what reason can I give? The truth is out of the question, but what lie would be acceptable? If I say it was disease, she will be terrified of succumbing to it herself.”

Abigail stood, somehow managing to do so with a modicum of grace. Her eyes were hard, though Jason knew the tears would come soon. “That is your problem to solve, General. But if you want to honor the memory of she whom you have destroyed, you will bury her in the way of her people.”

Once again, he looked shocked by her forwardness. But he nodded. “It will be done. You may go home with your wife, Jason, Statius will take the rest of your shift.”

“
Thank you, General.” He put an arm around Abigail and led her back outside. She was shaking, and he knew it was from emotions and not the wind. Still, he rubbed a hand up her arm for comfort and warmth.

She managed to make it back into the familiarity of their bed before losing her composure. Jason held her as the brine flowed. “Jehovah, give her your comfort,” he whispered into the night. Had it grown darker while they were out? It felt it. “My sweet Abigail should not have had to lose another she loved, but still we know you hold us in your hand. Help her grieve, our father in heaven. And please, lift the darkness. Lift the darkness.”

He held her until a halfhearted dawn stained the sky.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The alarm sounded, jerking Abigail awake. The call to arms, for all the soldiers in Jerusalem. Dread poisoned her blood. She had heard that sound twice before in her years here, and it always meant the same thing. Decisions, mixed loyalties, and fear.

Heart thundering in mutiny, Abigail did not bother to speak. She just helped her husband on with his breastplate, cloak, shoes, and weapons.

By the time they reached the hall, the rest of the household was also up, Cleopas armed and ready to leave, Ester clutching a robe around her shoulders. Andrew stood a step behind, Samuel hiding in confusion behind him, Simon and Dinah just rushing from their room sleepily. The boy, upon spotting Abigail, made a dash for her, attaching himself to her legs. She murmured something consoling without having any idea what words she used. She put a hand on his head.

“
Andrew,” Cleopas was saying, “Simon. You will both stay here and protect the women. I do not expect any trouble here, but bar all the doors after we leave, and do not open them to anyone you do not know. Are you ready, Jason?”

“
I am.” He leaned down and kissed Abigail, then tugged playfully on one of Samuel’s curls. “I will be back as soon as I can. Try to get some rest, beloved. Samuel, you will take care of your mistress, will you not?”

The boy’s shoulders moved back, and he nodded seriously. Jason smiled. “Good. Mother, you rest, too.” He kissed her cheek.

That ridiculous demand was not worthy of response, so Abigail just moved over to Ester as the two men tossed farewells over their shoulders and rushed out the door. Simon barred it after them, and Andrew turned to survey his charges. He apparently decided that rest would be out of the question so did not order them back to bed.

“
Come.” He motioned them into the main room. “There is no sense in standing there. They will not be gone long, I am sure.”

“
I hate this,” Ester muttered, taking Abigail’s hand and clinging to it.

“
I know.” She tried to will comfort into Ester as they sat, but it was hard to do, given the fear that saturated her being. The previous times she had sat here with her mistress, it had only been her master whose safe return she prayed for. Now it was her father. Her husband.

When Samuel took his usual place in her lap, she wrapped grateful arms around him. He had ony been with them for two weeks, but he felt as much a part of her world as the others in this room.

“
I am getting too old for this kind of excitement,” Ester said. “These are the moments when I wish I had married a merchant, a scholar, a workman–anything but a soldier. I cannot imagine what it would be like if we were at war! I would not know a moment of peace.”

“
They are capable soldiers. They will return soon, as they always do.” The words came easily to Abigail’s lips, but they felt empty

“
I know.” Ester sighed. “But it makes the wait no easier.”

Abigail said nothing. But silently, she agreed.

~*~

Jason heard the name run through the ranks like Bacchical drink, turning expectation into desire for blood. Barabbas. The rumored attacks were finally taking place. The rebel had acted, staged his mighty coup. And now they would get to raze his ambitions as the walls of Thermopylae. Tonight, he would be crushed. The “Son of a Father” would leave his parents childless; they would kill the thief and be rid of his poisonous influence once and for all.

They did not tarry long. The officers gave their commands to their men and they all took off at a trot in various directions. This particular uprising appeared to be well planned. There were reports from all around the city of different attacks being waged on the soldiers’ positions, and the demand for reinforcements was intense.

Jason took the time to mutter a prayer of thanksgiving that he had not been on duty that night. Injured men were being carried past them, and they were the ones who had been assaulted first, when their guards were down.

Now, everyone was alert and ready for battle. Even Cleopas, who would usually have been expected to stay at the garrison and supervise activity there, took command of the men whose centurion had been wounded already and headed into the streets.

Jason and Cleopas headed off in the same general direction, and a glance around showed Jason that Titus and his group of soldiers were nearby as well. The look on the Roman’s face was fearsome, and it made him smile. Any rebel to get in Titus’s way would know true terror before he was cut down.

Shouts echoed through the streets, furious cries of pain and rage. Behind the barred doors of the residences, all was silent. The people were probably awake, but they huddled inside without even lighting a lamp. Still, Jason imagined their fear seeping out into the roadways, sliding over soldiers and forming puddles of darkness on the ground, where the moonlight could not reach.

The sound of metal clashing against metal reached Jason’s ears; it was familiar enough. For years, he had watched and taken part in drills, perfecting his swordsmanship, learning how to fight well and win. But he could not deceive himself into thinking of this as an exercise; this was a test, the ultimate kind. He had never been in the frenzy of a battle before, but it was unmistakable. The panting of men pushing themselves to their limits in the effort to be victorious blended into the incessant pounding of soldier’s shoes upon the stones that paved the way to the action.

“
Attack!” The cry came from above them, and Jason and his men all coiled in anticipation of their enemies’ obedience. Before he could blink, there was a roar of barbaric voices, and a cloud of men bore down from the walls, hitting them on all sides. They had obviously been training for this moment a long time.

The Romans had been training longer. His men did not panic, they did not run. They held their formation until the rebels began to scatter, and then pursued as Jason called out the command to regroup at the corner in a few moments.

Without fail, the mutineers were routed and quelled. Without fail, more came to take their places. The battle raged on, taking the form of small skirmishes that Jason kept thinking would be over quickly. But every time one group fled and the Romans pursued, they ran into more of the Hebrew rebels.

By his count, all of Jason’s men were unharmed but growing weary. He was, too, but it was irrelevant. He was not sure if he had been lucky enough to fall into an area with a high concentration of the outlaws, or if they had recruited so many that their numbers allowed them to attack the soldiers all over the city in such force. But the question did not matter. All that mattered was bringing peace back to Jerusalem.

He was chasing down a man who was fleet of foot and was quickly losing him. Breathing hard, Jason decided not to pursue too far from his position, so turned back. His body moved just in time to freeze at the horrible vision that met his eyes.

Cleopas, strong, able, good Cleopas had been engaged by a bear of a man whose every blow had forced his father back until he was against the wall. His attacker was merciless. Jason realized in a flash that Cleopas would fall under that man’s brutal sword.