Palace of Darkness (16 page)

“ ‘The days of peaceful existence for the followers of Jesus are ending, my friends. The occasional disturbances have become more frequent, and the arena again cries out for the blood of Christians. I have not been silent as our emperor allows this evil. While he has not yet sent out his soldiers to round up believers, he has taken the policy that any who gain his attention are to be put to death.’ ”

Malik scanned forward a few lines, and when he spoke again, his voice thickened. “ ‘Trajan has commanded that I come to Rome, to await trial for apostasy as I have denied his divinity and refused to bow to the gods of Rome. I go willingly, knowing that our God is using the deaths of His beloved to grow His church.’ ”

The letter went on, full of encouragement for the flock in Petra, and Malik read it, but his heart was near to bursting with grief. It was too soon, too soon to lose his friend and to see his leadership passed to another. Malik prayed there was one there in Antioch worthy to accept the mantle of authority.

It is your time as well, Malik.

The Voice burned through him, a fire in his veins. His heart pounded in response. He finished the letter, set it aside, then rose and went to the rock ledge to look out on the city. The others left him to his thoughts, no doubt believing his grief kept him isolated. But it was not the grief alone. It was the Voice. One he had come to know well.

“They have need of me still, Lord,” he whispered into the night. He thought about the faces around the table, at the edges of the room. Which of them was ready to lead? “Not yet.” He shook his head in the darkness. “No one is prepared.”

Then you must help him.

A chill shook Malik’s thin frame, and the knowing came upon him, falling like dew on his head, turning him back to his flock, who already watched him carefully.

“The word of the Lord,” he began, and felt the tears flow as they often did when the Holy One gave him a prophecy to speak out to the people. He knew not what it would be yet, but he suspected. And even as the words poured forth, he felt a resistance to them, a fear for the future of his church.

“Ignatius will soon go to his fathers, and my time is coming as well.” His tears fell unchecked, matched by the emotion of others in the room. “But God is faithful and will not leave His people bereft. Even now there is one among you who will be raised to lead.”

They waited, he knew. Waited for him to speak a name. But though the name was given to him, it was not for him to speak it yet, the Spirit said.

The knowing, the word of prophecy, was finished. The room buzzed, but Malik turned back to the ledge, back to the star-flecked sky, and shivered.

He is so young, Lord. So foolish and lacking in maturity. Surely not. Surely not.

But the Lord had spoken. And so Malik bowed his head, though filled with fear.

Yes, Malik
.
Julian will lead My church.

SEVENTEEN

M
EN AND THEIR PLANS
.

Cassia brushed a pile of pebbles together, scooped them with her hands, and dropped them into a chipped pot. She perched on the narrow ledge where Julian worked, three stories above the street level. In the past few days, Julian had been assigned a particular area to hack away, and when it was discovered Cassia had no fear of the great height, she was given the task of cleaning up his debris.

“Good progress today.” Julian wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

Cassia grunted. Her mind was full of Julian’s plan to engage Malik’s friends to find jobs in the palace and help get Alexander out.

It all reminded her of Aretas’s elaborate plots. And more than that, it left nothing for her to do.
Am I to go on clearing rocks, taking no action to save my son?

The notion galled her. She had relied on men to rescue and take care of her for too many years. But that time had ended, and she would be strong on her own behalf. Who were these friends of Malik’s that they would help her?

“Your admirer is staring again.” Julian interrupted her reverie. She looked up at him, confused.

“There.” Julian jutted his chin toward a ledge farther down where Og, a younger mason, chipped at the rock wall but with his eyes trained upward.

Cassia snorted and returned to her cleanup.

“You are not flattered?” Julian’s voice was teasing. “He is very handsome. At least that’s what I hear.”

“Flattered, perhaps. Interested, no.” She dropped a few rock chips and chased them before they fell from the ledge.

“Not what you are looking for?”

After a strong exhale, Cassia stared Julian down. He was clearly baiting her. Fine. She would tell him what she thought. “I am not looking at all, Julian. I have found men in general to be disastrous for me.”

Julian whistled through his teeth and kept working. “All of us, swept aside like so many rock chips?”

“You don’t know me, Julian. I am finished with men.”

He stopped long enough to stare down at her. She shook her head and hoped he understood the message:
Do not ask.

The midday call came up from the ground, and Cassia picked her way down the rough-cut steps for the brief meal and respite from the sun. Julian followed, but she ignored him. He was in a bantering mood today, and it made her feel unbalanced.

The workers ducked into the lower level of the tomb, under one of the massive arches that had already been carved, and found places on the dirty floor. Three servants circulated, handing bowls of bread and chunked meat in a thick gravy. Cassia downed the food hungrily, sitting with the other women she had befriended over the days of work. Julian sat nearby.

The servants brought beer, made from strongly leavened bread
crumbled into water and warmed over a slow fire. Bits of bread still lingered in the cup. Cassia passed her bowl back to the servant unfinished in the customary way. It was the only food they would receive.

The talk at the meal was all of the day’s religious ceremonies. Cassia asked Adva, a new friend, about the significance.

“You’d think they would give us a holiday,” Adva muttered between bites of thick bread. “But only the royals are important enough to take time away from all their hard, hard work.”

Cassia gave her a smile of agreement, as she felt the same hostility for the royal family, albeit for different reasons. “What does the royal family do on the day of the full moon?” She finished her meal and accepted the jug of lukewarm water being passed from hand to hand.

Her friend shrugged. “It’s the queen more than anyone.” She pointed across the open space outside the tomb to the precipice of the massive rocky cliff. “She is carried to the High Place to make sacrifices, and then there is a feast in the palace tonight.”

Cassia squinted at the top of the cliff, but the plateau was so far above, she could see no activity. The thought of that windswept exposure made her shudder.

“It must take half the day for the queen to get up there and back.”

Adva brushed crumbs from her coarse white tunic and stood. “Never bothered to try it.”

Cassia turned to search out Julian, wanting his opinion. He had been close enough to hear and now raised his eyebrows at her. “I know that look. What are you planning?”

She jumped to her feet. “The queen is occupied throughout the day. Gone from the palace!”

“The king is still there. And enough slaves and servants to stop an army, no doubt.”

Cassia rubbed her hands against her thighs and looked out toward
the palace. “If I can get in there to see the king, I know he will listen to me. It is only that woman—” She left her thought unfinished and hurried out of the tomb without waiting for Julian’s response.

“Stay a moment!”

She was already in the street when he caught up, and she saw Malik walking toward them. The afternoon sun had driven most indoors, and the street was quiet.

“What has happened?” the old man asked.

“Nothing yet.” Cassia clapped her hands together. “That is the problem. But I am going to change that.”

Julian informed Malik of her plan while she shielded her eyes from the sun and studied the palace in the distance. She was anxious to be off.
I don’t need the permission of these two.

Malik’s attention was all on Julian, however. “Go with her.”

Cassia kicked at the dirt with her heel. “I do not need—”

But Malik still spoke only to Julian. “The forces there, they are strong. The queen’s role as high priestess affords her much power, and it is centered there in the palace. A dark place indeed.” He gripped Julian’s arm. “Pray against it, my boy. Encircle her with prayer and protection.”

Cassia understood none of it. “I am going.” She left the two behind her. Julian was at her side a moment later. She spoke without turning. “Do not tell me I am not strong enough to face the king.”

“There are forces that are stronger than even you, Cassia.”

In truth, she was glad, very glad, for Julian’s presence. Though she was not interested in giving her heart to another man, she had decided Julian could be a good friend. She admired his strength and could learn from it.

Her anger and desperation built as she stalked down the street. She had not seen Alexander in more than a week, and the separation was like a spreading infection.

They passed the housing district on their right, with its flat-topped roofs empty of women performing their household duties for the afternoon. On the left, the market street’s taverns and shops had lowered their flaps.

They reached the palace steps and Cassia did not slow in her ascent, not even as she remembered being thrown down them the last time she was there. They crossed the portico, into the front passageway. Only then did Cassia consider that perhaps she would not get far enough to reach the king. She glanced back to Julian, but his eyes were unfocused and his lips moved silently. Did he pray to his gods as Malik had instructed? The thought unnerved her. But perhaps his prayers were working, for they continued unaccosted.

Their good fortune did not hold. At the edge of the palace’s lush garden courtyard, several male slaves appeared, their bare chests rippling with muscles and biceps that held their arms nearly aloft. Cassia slowed. “I am the mother of the prince, Alexander. I wish to see the king.”

Beyond the slaves, the courtyard was an oasis in the desert, a large square of greenery, tumbling over white marble benches and paving stones. In the center, a huge fountain sculpture of a goddess sent water crashing to the pool beneath it.

The slaves said nothing, but Cassia had already spotted the king, redolent in the center of the courtyard, on a chaise beside the fountain. Two women stood on either side of him, fanning him with large woven fronds, and a child-slave skimmed flies from the squared pool.

“King Rabbel!”

He opened one eye and turned his head toward her.

“It is Cassia, Alexander’s mother. I must speak with you!”

He pulled himself to a sitting position and studied her a moment, then waved her over. She approached, sensing the slaves held Julian at the entrance to the courtyard.

Then I shall do this alone.

She drew close to the fountain, and its circular wall of inlaid red-and-black tiles seemed like a series of hostile eyes, watching each step she took.

“I thought you had left Petra.” The king pursed his lips and looked her up and down.

“I could not leave my son, King. Surely you understand that.”

Rabbel smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I do not pretend to understand mothers, let alone foreign ones.”

Cassia tightened her muscles to control her fury, fearing she might attack Rabbel. “King, a boy needs his mother. I am asking you to allow us to remain together.”

“You want to live in the palace, do you?” Again, his tone was amused.

“I care not where I live, as long as it is with my son!” She turned cold eyes on him. “I will live anywhere you say, Rabbel. And I will bring Alexander to you as often as you wish. Only let me remain with my son!”

Rabbel pulled a grape from the nearby plate and placed it in his mouth. “He has been given to Bethea. She can mother him.” He shrugged. “Limp little thing that she is, it would do her good.”

She straightened. “And when your son, Aretas, was parted from you, did you content yourself with the thought there would be others to take your place in his life?”

The king’s face darkened, and warmth rose through her neck and face. She dropped to the marble floor beside his feet and placed her hands and forehead on his ankles. “I will do whatever you ask of me.” She knew well what she offered, for she had seen his look of interest. Could Julian hear from the courtyard’s edge? He would know what kind of woman she was.

Rabbel waved away the two attendant slaves, leaving them alone.
She grew cold and pulled her hands from his body. Looking up from her knees, she met his eyes and saw he considered her request. He would let her stay in the palace, perhaps, if she made herself available. The thought both sickened and strengthened her.

There was no cost too high to protect Alexander.

But the king’s attention shifted from her, toward the entrance to the courtyard, and without turning Cassia sensed a dark and heavy presence, as though a cold wind had tunneled into the palace and wrapped them all in icy tendrils.