A Stray Drop of Blood (40 page)

Titus turned to find a woman standing in a doorway, wiping her hands on a faded piece of cloth. She looked amused, pleasant. She was probably in her mid thirties, attractive, but had that worn and tired look in her eye that seemed habitual to so many in the city.

Titus sighed. “I am looking for a midwife.”

The woman smiled. “You have found one. Though who would have given you my name, I cannot imagine.”

Titus shook his head. “No one told me. Please, can you come? My friend’s widow is in labor, and she is in great pain. I fear something is wrong, and her family cannot be found.”

The woman nodded, disappearing inside for a moment and reemerging a moment later with a satchel under her arm. She closed the door behind her. “Lead me to her.” They fell into step together, Titus setting a brisk pace. The woman matched it. “I am Tabitha,” she volunteered when they had journeyed a while in silence. “This woman–is she Hebrew or Roman?”

Titus sent her a suspicious glance. “Will that affect your decision to come?”

Tabitha smiled again, indulgently this time. “Mine, it will not. For many others of my profession, it would indeed. That is why I ask. I was wondering if I was your last resort. It is the only time I am ever called now.”

Titus knew he was in no position to question her credentials. He merely nodded. “She is Hebrew. Her husband was a centurion, his father the prefect.”

Tabitha did not slow, but she turned her face up to his with heightened interest. “I heard of their deaths. It saddened me. The father was a follower of Jesus.”

He was beyond shock at that point, so he could not have such a reaction to her knowledge of Cleopas’s beliefs. “His son had become one, too.”

Tabitha nodded slowly. “And you, soldier?”

Titus looked over at her, his mind suddenly at rest. He could tell by the look in her eyes, that faded echo of what he had seen in Jesus’s not so long ago, that she was a follower of the rabbi’s teachings. Someone who would know what he had said and would be able to share it. If his vision of Jason had been his own madness, then his madness had led him right where he needed to be. He still could not smile. “Today I saw things that have changed me. Things I do not understand. But I know that Jesus of Nazareth was more than a man. I know that his blood made me see my own sins and wish them away. And I know that I need to learn much in order to be the man this Christ would have me be.”

Tabitha put an encouraging hand on his arm. “There is hope. Jesus the Messiah judges with mercy. He spared my life when others would have stoned me, convincing the crowd to walk away. He knows we all sin and commanded the one without such a blemish to cast the first stone–there is no one who is righteous though, my friend. Your failings cannot be so great that you cannot overcome them with faith in our Lord; he forgave me mine, he will forgive you yours. You have but to desire it.”

Titus would have responded, but they at that moment came within sight of the Visibullis house.

“
Titus!” It was the voice of one of his men, running for him from the direction of the garrison. “Where have you been? Pilate wishes to see you!”

Titus exhaled forcefully. He turned to Tabitha, pointing to the house. “Abigail is within that house. The servants are all gone with the mistress of the house; let yourself in, go to the rear bed chamber. There will be a boy with her, who will probably meet you when he hears you enter; he is very protective of her. I will return as quickly as I can.”

Tabitha nodded, even as Titus turned and strode impatiently toward his soldier. “What does Pilate want?”

The man stepped out of his way. “He would not believe the criminal called Jesus was already dead, but a man has come asking for his body, to bury it before sundown.”

Titus made no response, just took off at a run in the direction of the governor’s palace. He arrived in short order and entered.

Menelaus greeted him at the entrance and turned to lead the way to the governor. “Titus, they could not find you; I was beginning to think you had already headed for your ship.”

“
It does not sail for another week,” Titus reminded him. “Why did you not just fetch one of the others to verify Jesus’s death?”

Menelaus shrugged. “You were in charge. Pilate will trust no one else. Where did you disappear to, my friend?”

Titus looked at Menelaus. He seemed the same as he had been days before. How was it the entire world had not changed as he had? How could anyone still be so obviously interested in the things of everyday life, when the Son of God had just been killed upon a cross? “Abigail was at the crucifixion, and her labor began. I took her home, then went in search of a midwife; Ester and her slaves have disappeared, and I know not where to find them.”

Menelaus looked surprised, if not overly concerned. “Curious. Well, you have done your good deed. I am heading into the city. Shall I wait for you?”

Titus worked hard to keep his disgust from his face. It was not Menelaus’s fault that he had no idea what had happened that day. He shook his head. “I must check on Abigail. She was in terrible pain, and I fear something is not right.”

“
Titus.” Menelaus paused outside the door that would open to Pilate. “You cannot do anything. I certainly understand your concern for Jason’s child, but be reasonable. You cannot deliver the babe yourself, and your presence would not be welcome. Abigail despises you.”

Titus was in no mood to argue. “We have reached a truce. I will return to her once Pilate is convinced.”

Even as Titus reached for the door, Menelaus was saying, “Titus, do not. She is Jason’s widow.”

Titus glanced back at him with a brow raised in condescension. “I am not taking her to my bed, Menelaus. I am merely making sure she is not alone. Would Jason not want that? Or would he prefer I leave her to die with no one but a midwife with her?”

Menelaus looked ready to rebut, but Titus had the door open, and the governor called him in.

“
Lord,” Titus said, bowing his head in greeting. “You summoned me?”

“
Yes.” Pilate’s nerves were obvious. He darted a glance at another man in the room, one whose wealth was worn openly. “This man has come for the body of the one they call the King of the Jews. I knew he could not be dead yet.”

Titus had no qualms contradicting the governor. “He is dead. He died seconds before the earthquake.”

Pilate looked even more anxious at that news. “But how? It is too soon.”

Titus replied just so he could be the quicker out of there. “He was beaten badly, Lord. He could not even walk unaided to Golgotha. The blood he lost from the stakes was undoubtedly too much for him to survive long. He probably would have died even had we not crucified him.”

The explanation seemed to satisfy Pilate. He nodded, then said to the other man, “Take his body, do what you will.”

“
Lord.” Another man stepped forward from the shadows where Titus had not even noticed him. He was vaguely familiar, but it was not until he spoke that Titus remembered him as the man who had spoken to Barabbas what seemed like years ago, when the murderer was released. He was the man who had pulled a terrified Abigail along and offered her to the criminal. “We remember that while this man was alive, the deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise.’ Therefore command that guards be posted at this tomb, lest his disciples come and steal him away and say he has risen. That deception would be even worse than what he has already done.”

Titus rolled his eyes, partly because this man’s foolishness was so great, partly because he knew Pilate would agree.

“
You have a guard. This centurion,” Pilate said with a nod toward Titus, “will select one himself. Go, make it as secure as you can.”

“
Thank you, sir.” The religious leader left the room with a smug smile.

Titus, after bowing to Pilate, followed him out.

The Pharisee waited. “I want your best men. Nothing is beneath these deceivers, and they would steal the body from beneath our noses.”

Titus was out of patience. He stepped close, close enough so that the man had to tilt his head back to look up into his face. “Patience, man. You said it was the third day he said he would rise, so for the third day, you will have your guard. Not tonight. Go to your house and prepare for your Sabbath, and leave the dead alone.”

He turned and strode away before he could see what response his command got. He found his way out of the palace and headed straight for the house where he could find others who understood the sudden realignment of his world.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The groans had led Tabitha where she needed to go once she was in the house. It was a common enough sound for one used to attending child births, but even so the pain in the voice was obvious. Tabitha entered the bed chamber and looked over to see the pregnant woman lying on the bed, a small boy stroking her brow as she gripped the sheets as though her life depended on it.

She made her presence known with a small cough. When the two looked up, she smiled. “I am Tabitha, a midwife.” She sat down on the side of the bed and took one of the young woman’s hands. “What is your name, child?”

“
Abigail.” Even the one word was strained with agony. “Something’s wrong with my baby.”

Tabitha made no comment, just took a hand and ran it over her abdomen. It took little probing to realize the expectant mother was right. But she smiled. “Pain is normal, Abigail. When was your last contraction?”

Abigail shook her head. “They are close. Too close, I think.”

Tabitha nodded, but again kept her silence. She looked to the boy with a smile. “And what is your name?”

“
Samuel,” he replied. “Will my mother be all right?”

Tabitha knew well that the woman before her could not have possibly given birth to the boy, but she was not about to argue with the title. She just stroked his hair gently. “Of course she will, Samuel. Now, I need you to help me. Do you know where they store the linens?”

He nodded.

“
Good. Go get the oldest things. When you come back, I will go make my preparations. Hurry, now. Your mother will want you back here soon.”

He scurried away, and Tabitha looked back to Abigail, whose eyes had not left her face. “The centurion said he would return soon, but he was called to the governor. He mentioned he was your husband’s friend, and he seemed very concerned for you. But if you are not comfortable with his presence–”

“
No, please.” Abigail gripped her hand tighter. “I need to thank him.” She broke off with another moan, but resolutely finished her thought between clenched teeth. “For bringing me home.”

Tabitha nodded. “Before he gets back, I need to check your progress, child.”

She was not dilated very far, and Tabitha knew that the labor would be long and hard. When Samuel returned with the old cloth, she put it nearby to be handy and informed them that she would be in the kitchen for just a few minutes.

She was there still when Titus returned.

“
How is she?” the Roman asked immediately upon entering the room. Tabitha was pouring some water into a wooden cup.

She shook her head. “The babe is breech.”

Titus’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“
It means that the child dropped before he turned. His head should come first, but he is not positioned correctly. He cannot be born as he is.”

Titus beheld her a moment in silence, then asked, “What can be done?” in such a way that stated the answer had better not be nothing.

Tabitha sighed. “Right now, we can pray that the babe will turn on his own. I have seen it happen. If he does not, then once she is opened enough, I will reach up and try to maneuver him myself.” Seeing his features pale, she drew her breath back in. “It is painful, yes, but it is the only other option. If the child is not turned, they will both die.”

“
That cannot happen. I swore to him she would be taken care of.”

She gave him a smile that she prayed would comfort him. “There is nothing you can do to protect her now. You brought her safely home, you brought someone to attend her. Speak to her, then go home. There is nothing more for you to do.”

~*~

Titus headed for the room where Abigail was curled up on the bed. Every muscle was so tense that he could feel some of her pain just by drawing near. He sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on her shoulder to let her know he was there.

Abigail opened her eyes, turned her head to look at him. “Titus. Thank you.”

“
I have done nothing.” He took her hand, measured himself. Only compassion flowed through him, a feeling so unfamiliar he was unsure if that was even the proper name. “But I pray for you. I know not if your God even knows who I am, but I am beseeching him on your behalf.”

She managed a smile and squeezed his hand. “My God knows everyone. He will hear you. Titus,” she then intoned in a way that made him brace himself for whatever might follow, “I have said things to you recently I regret. You were a good friend to Jason. You stood beside him in spite of your disapproval.”

Forgiveness . . . he had not even wanted it before, but now it bathed him in peace. “And I was wrong to disapprove. Forgive me for all I have said to you, Abigail, and concerning you. You had no ill intents. Jason made his decisions, and he made them well. I should not have judged him so harshly.”