The problem was his heart was not convinced.
A quick look around and the decision was made.
Taking advantage of the distraction caused by a procession of red-robed priests clanging bells, Julian clamped Anna’s wrist and towed her down the stairs behind him.
Anna dug in her heels. “What are you doing?”
A last glance backward found the centurion and the dung collector with dumbfounded looks on their faces.
“Good question.” Julian scooped her up and charged for the Praetorium.
Fifteen
The Caesareans, foreigners, and Roman soldiers coming and going in the Praetorium got an eye and an ear full. As Julian hustled Anna through, her loud voice echoing around the cavernous hall was especially satisfying.
What was Julian thinking, dragging her away without giving Tobias a word of explanation? She shuddered to imagine what that man must think of such rude behavior. He would never marry her now. How cruel of Julian to build her hopes up, only to dash them.
Death by a thousand cuts, that is what it was. Most people would not be giddy at the thought of being counted with the outcasts. She had only shared a few moments with the dung collector Tobias, but he seemed a good man.
Pig-headed Roman that he was, Julian would not allow her to return to Tobias.
She did not make it easy for him. She fought him as though her life depended on it. Because it did.
The journey ended with them closeted in his office. “Stop your screeching, woman!”
Released unexpectedly, Anna landed hard on her bottom.
She scrambled up off the stone floor.
Broad-shouldered and thick-necked, Julian stood as a Goliath-like obstacle between her and the door.
“Let me by!”
She was done with Julian. She would find Tobias and beg him to take her back. There would not be Julian’s dowry to entice him. But she had much to offer. Young and healthy, she could work as hard as any dung collector’s woman. From the age of ten, she had singlehandedly run a household. Though she had worked side by side with Simon and his sons, they had lacked for nothing. She had cooked, cleaned, done the wash, and performed innumerable other domestic tasks.
Tobias did not need to worry about his children. She would care for them as if they were her own. Full of love, she needed only a family to shower it on. And she could give him more children.
She made a dash for it.
Julian caught her in a bear hug, moving faster than she’d expect for such a large man. He peeled away the veils and released her. “There will be no more barriers between us. Do I make myself clear?”
Perfectly! She kicked him in the shin, hoping her sandal made a dent in his thick skin.
“How am I going to explain to my men that I let a woman bruise and curse me?” Rubbing his leg, he scowled at her.
“What are you doing? We have to go back.”
Julian put a finger to his lips, cautioning her against making a racket.
“You and your almighty orders can go to the devil!”
“Let me see your hands,” he commanded.
“Allow me go back to Tobias.” Panic clawed at her throat. “There’s no place left for me to go. Surely you must see that. It will be best for both of us if you let me go.”
“Your hands first.” He extended his palms with annoying calm.
Making an impatient sound, she barely touched her hands to his.
He raised her hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on first one and then the other. “You have beautiful hands, Anna. I won’t have it.”
She swallowed. “What won’t you have?”
His face was ruggedly handsome but troubled. “I cannot bear the thought of your lovely hands looking filthy. I cannot abide the thought of you becoming a dung collector’s wife. I will not allow it.”
“How can I stay angry with you when your words are so flattering?”
He caught her up in his arms. “Forgive me, Anna. Please forgive me.” He pressed desperate kisses to her cheeks, nose, and eyelids. His stubbled chin chafed her softer skin. “I cannot let you go, Anna. I tried, but I could not do it.”
Heat spiraled through her.
One kiss.
Just one kiss. Her mouth found his, and his lips and tongue tasted sweet as nectar.
A knock sounded at the door.
She gasped and pulled free.
“Not now,” Julian barked. His eyes remained on her.
The intruder moved on.
An awkward silence passed.
Julian scrubbed his knuckles over his face and paced the room.
Anna wrapped her arms tight against her body.
Heaven above, what had just happened? One kiss from Julian and all thoughts of Tobias fled.
Julian stopped in his tracks. “What do about think about Egypt?”
“Egypt? Egypt, the country?”
“Yes, Egypt the country.” His tired smile was very like the one she always found so devastating.
An inner alarm drummed. “I picture a desert wilderness and pharaoh’s army drowning in the Red Sea.”
“If I were you, I would not mention the part about pharaoh’s army to the Egyptians.
“I do not know any Egyptians.”
“You know me.”
“You are Roman.”
“I am called Julian of Alexandria.”
She could not argue with that. “I am growing old waiting for you to make your point.”
“Egypt is a place of lush beauty. Your River Jordan pales in comparison to the majesty of the Nile. If you give it a fair chance, you will like Egypt.”
“Wait, wait, wait. What are you talking about?”
“There’s no place for you in Judea, Anna.” His sympathetic tone grated. “You said it yourself? I am sending you to my mother in Egypt.”
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The suggestion was beyond absurd. “I do not want to go.”
His mouth hardened. “The choice is not yours.”
She stood tall and pretended a braveness she did not feel. “Commander, nothing you say or do will convince me to go to Egypt.”
∞∞∞
Determined to remain calm in the face of Anna’s defiance, Julian arched a brow. “Commander, is it now?”
“It is brazen of me to call you the other.”
“Brazen?” He did not know anyone less brazen.
She refused to look at him.
What had he been thinking kissing Anna like that?
Using slaves or similar dependents to slake base appetites was beneath him. He had made himself Anna’s protector, breaking that trust was inexcusable. And blaming his indiscretion on prolonged abstinence—he had not lain with a woman once since coming to this wretched outpost—was nothing less than dishonest.
As for breaking off Anna’s marriage to the cursed dung collector, he was still trying to convince himself he had been in the right.
Six children! The dung collector had six children! What in the name of Jupiter was Crispus thinking?
Anna would have been little better than a servant to Tobias and his ready-made family. Not that she seemed to mind. And therein rested his problem. If Anna could accept her fate, why couldn’t he?
The easy answers? Because Zara kept sending Julian missives demanding he hand Anna over. Because Tobias did not look the type to stand up to Zara’s bullying. Because Caesarea would not be far away enough from Zara’s bullying.
The harder truth was the real reason he needed Anna out of Israel. He could not stand the thought of her marrying a dung collector from Caesarea or any other place because having the beautiful Jewess anywhere within a hundred miles would be too close. Because he wanted Anna badly enough to break sacred vows to have her. Whether her wedding vows or his vow of dignitas.
Dignitas entailed reputation, moral standing, ethical worth, one’s good name, and honor. Dignitas was the duty placed on every Roman to raise his family’s fortunes. Not just monetarily. Julian’s own fathe
r had filled the family’s coffers to overflowing. Each generation was duty bound to increase the family’s name and standing among his fellow Romans.
Julian’s father, by marrying a woman of no consequence from the land of Egypt, had failed miserably. Though typically not a hypocrite, his father had been in this instance.
Over the years, his father had reminded his son it was up to Julian to use the family’s money to arrange a marriage to a Roman woman of good name whose family would overlook Julian’s less than stellar pedigree to obtain access to his sizable fortune.
It was the Roman way.
Devil take it, it was his way.
He had promised himself he would succeed where his father had failed. The last thing Julian needed was a Jewish wife.
Anna watched him warily.
The temptation to use Anna niggled at him—to keep her as a mistress and take his pleasure of her until he was posted elsewhere. and leave it to her to figure out how best to repair her life after he left. He heaved a sigh. Two substantial obstacles cooled his greedy lust.
First there was his mother to consider. What if his father had used her that way? He would be a bastard and his mother a fallen woman. His mother would be deeply disappointed in him if she knew he had treated a respectable woman badly.
Second, but more immediate, he would hate to hurt the beautiful woman staring at him with eyes sad enough to make angels weep.
Despite what she thought of Romans, he was not a callous beast.
What poor choices they both faced.
To do one’s duty or to follow one’s heart.
Each path promised a share of suffering. For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt sympathy for the dilemma his father had faced.
There was a third way his treacherous heart whispered.
Premeditated divorce.
What if he married Anna and divorced her when the time came to leave Judea? He would of course bestow a large settlement upon her. She would have money to live an honest life. And he would be free to take himself off to Rome to find a Roman wife.
It was a practical and very Roman solution. Romans regularly divorced and remarried to advance dignitas. His conscience told him it was one thing to play such games among Rome’s ruthless aristocrats or on the likes of King Herod Antipas’s manipulative daughter Salome, and quite another to practice them on an innocent like Anna.
For all its appeal, premeditated divorce touched too close to the predatory for his comfort.
So Egypt it was.
Though his acquaintance with Anna was a short one, he knew he was in for a major battle. If reason would not persuade her, he would use intimidation.
The problem was she no longer feared him. Not many days ago the fact he was a Roman soldier had been enough to intimidate her. He had resented it then. But now he was about to remind the young innocent why Roman soldiers were feared.
He sat on the reclining couch and patted his leg. “Come and sit.”
She took a few tentative steps and stopped.
“Closer.”
“Please stop.”
Mercy would not benefit either of them.
He pulled her onto his lap and splayed his fingers over her ribs. He felt the thrum of her heart against the palm of his hand, making him uncomfortably aware of his own pounding heart.
His troublesome conscience paid another unwelcome visit.
Was the harsh thing he meant to do the only way?
If he told Anna she would be leaving Judea to live among Egypt’s Jewish community, the fight might end here and now.
But it would mean admitting he was part Jewish. He shuddered. The words had never passed his lips. And they would not be passing them today either.
He used a tone calculated to make her skin crawl. “If you stay in Israel, I promise to make a legend of you, Anna. I will make sure you are known to history as the Whore of Jerusalem. I will do everything in my power to ensure your people count your name with the likes of Delilah and Jezebel. If you insist on staying in Jerusalem, I will not allow you to hide in a corner serving lowly soldiers as a whore. That is what you are hoping for, isn’t it? You love Jerusalem so much you will whore yourself to stay, won’t you?”
Her cheeks drained of color. “Why are you doing this?”
“You cannot deny the accusation, can you? You should be ashamed.”
“Let me go,” she cried.
“If you will not leave your precious city and go to Egypt, then I will give you what you want.” His stomach curdled. “I will set you up in Fortress Antonia and offer you up as a whore to every Roman dignitary passing within a hundred miles of your glorious city. Once your fame spreads, I wager King Herod and his cronies will want you, too. I would not be surprised if Zara himself does not end up at my door begging for you.”
“If you beat me every day for the rest of my life, I won’t do it! I won’t!” She struggled against his hold.
He pressed his lips to hers. “Is this what you want, Anna?”
She burst into tears.
He stroked her back. “Forgive me. Please forgive me.”
Her crying slowed.
He brushed kisses over her delicate ear and tear-stained cheek. “You are too beautiful for words.”
She smiled though her tears. “You frightened me.”
He should be pleased. It was exactly what he was aiming for—showing the stubborn Jewess he could seduce her with ridiculous ease.
So why did the victory feel hollow?
He plucked up a dark lock and toyed with it. “Kiss me, Anna.”
Eyes wary, she touched her mouth to his.
He nibbled at her lips and jaw. “Come, my sweet harlot, open your mouth for me. Stop teasing me, beautiful temptress.”
She moaned and kissed him.
The sweetness of her kisses almost made him forget his mission. He pushed her away. “If I wanted to, I could make you into a whore and we both know it. You believe that now, don’t you?”
The sensual eyes trained on him filled with pain and guilt as the cruel words washed over her. “I will go to Egypt.” Her tone was flat with despair.
An icy ball filled his gut. He mustered up his nastiest smile. “Considering the delicious possibilities, I almost hoped you would refuse to go.”
She turned her head aside.
Egypt was the answer.
One day they would both be thankful he had done this.
Sixteen
One week after the disastrous trip to Caesarea, Anna was living in hiding in Jerusalem. Julian had stayed behind in Caesarea.
Intent on grinding grain for the Sabbath meal, Anna felt the weight of Crispus’ wife’s worried gaze. Miriam had been given the unenviable task of sheltering Anna from her curious neighbors and relatives until the thoughtless, overbearing brute Julian of Alexandria got around to collecting her.
The young mother had good cause to be concerned. If the residents of Jerusalem discovered Crispus and Miriam were sheltering a harlot in their home, a riot might break out.
Consoling her crying toddler by placing a kiss on baby Andrew’s bumped knee, Miriam kept her concerned gaze on Anna.
From the time Anna walked through the door, Miriam had been the soul of kindness and generosity. If Miriam held a poor opinion of her, Anna never saw any sign of it. The gracious thing to do would be to favor Miriam with a reassuring smile, but Anna could not force herself to pretend everything was all right. Nor any hope life would ever be right again.
She brimmed with questions, ones only Julian could answer.
Why was she back in Jerusalem? When would she leave for Egypt? Who would take her there? Would she travel by foot or horseback, join a camel caravan, sail a ship upon the sea, or perhaps some combination of those? And what would happen to her once she arrived in Egypt? Would she live there for the rest of her life? Would she ever see Julian again?
Her face heated every time she recalled their last moments together.
Shame over her wanton behav
ior left her feeling she could not go to Egypt fast enough.
It was not Julian’s threat to make her the Whore of Jerusalem and his forcing her to kiss him that had convinced her Egypt was for the best. No, what decided the matter was his charge that she had chosen to whore herself rather than leave Jerusalem behind.
The truth of the accusation stung.
More so for having a Gentile point out that she loved Jerusalem more than the God of Israel and his Laws.
She should have left the holy city and walked until she found a place where no one knew her. A place to start over. Why did she believe whoring herself to the Romans would hurt no one but herself? Why had she not realized playing whore to the Roman soldiers would entail shaming her people and her God before heathens?
From this day forward, she would live the life of a faithful Jew.
Egypt was the only answer for her now.
But, oh, she would miss Jerusalem.
The familiar sounds of the city waking drifted through the open door. The singsong voices of Pharisees debating scripture as they made their way to one of the many synagogues. The laughing voices of young girls filling water pitchers at a nearby well. Neighbor greeting neighbor. She did not need to see any of it to picture it vividly.
And she found herself morbidly nostalgic over the strangest things, such as the smell of the holy city. Beneath the delectable aroma of bread baking, the rich fragrance of costly perfumes, and scent of smoking incense, lay the smell of charred flesh and fresh blood. The burnt offerings.
Visitors and locals alike commented on the distinctive smell. And not a few complained about it. The odor was especially strong during the festivals when thousands of animal sacrifices were made. She had done her share of grumbling over it, too, particularly if the air turned heavy and unmoving. She could not be of a more different opinion now. Learning she was to leave Jerusalem behind, possibly forever, she found the foul odor now beautiful.
Her new-found attitude put her in mind of Simon the dung collector’s favorite saying about the stench of the manure they collected and stored.
It smells like wealth to me.
Oddly enough, the burnt sacrifices smelled to her of God’s satisfaction. Waking and having the scent of the daily offering greet her was reassuring. It was truly the dawning of a new day, a day full of promise. In Egypt, she would know the priests of God were offering the daily sacrifice, but she would not have the solace of watching the smoke of the ritual ascend to the heavens or have the comfort of inhaling the aroma of God’s satisfaction.
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