Pathetic though this had been, she had the cold comfort of knowing it merited more notice than the terse statement announcing the marriage’s foreordained end.
Once you are safely in Egypt, I will divorce you.
Sounds from an open courtyard drifted through a row of windows situated high on one wall. Soldiers jesting in a foreign tongue laughed. Music from an instrument she had never heard before played strange and unfamiliar notes. Water swished and splashed in one of the large, ornamental fountains favored by the Romans. And all of it sounded very, very un-Jewish.
She covered her ears and collapsed onto a lounging chair. Examining the ceiling, she was thoroughly startled to find Jupiter staring back at her. Or, if not Jupiter, then one or another of the heathen gods, painted larger than life lounging on a bed of billowy clouds, surrounded by scantily clad maidens.
She turned and buried her face in the couch cushions. The escape from her Roman surroundings had proved short-lived. She inhaled deeply only to be assaulted with the aroma of Arabian spices, the costly fragrance favored by Romans for sprinkling in their clothing and bed linens. If that was not bad enough, this precise concoction of fragrances spoke wholly of one particular Roman.
Julian.
None of this constituted a Jewish bride’s idea of the perfect wedding night. She had the awful feeling it was the very stuff harlots’ dreams were made of.
She jumped as the door opened.
Julian strode to a round marble table and held his hand out in welcome. “Anna, come sit and take food with me. It will help put us at ease with one another.”
A nervous laugh burbled up. There was no way on this side of paradise she could be at ease with the near stranger who meant to bed her.
Something flickered in the depth of his blue eyes. “You should smile more often, Anna. It truly becomes you.”
Her heart sped.
Though he had exchanged his dusty uniform for a dark blue robe, it did nothing to hide the fact he was tall and powerful and thoroughly Roman. He had total control over her. Power to do whatever he liked.
She joined him. What choice did she have?
The couch they shared was much too small.
She pushed the food around on her plate in lieu of eating. She was not sure how much time had passed when he nudged her. “It could be worse. I could smell like a dung collector.”
She wanted to smile at the small jest but could not make her lips form the necessary curve.
“Do we have to talk?” she asked.
Julian frowned, and she remembered too late she had said those words to him the first night they met. The night he had saved her from a life of harlotry.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue. Again. I don’t know how I survived before I met you.”
Amusement shone in his eyes. “Neither do I.”
She sighed at her hopeless situation. “Everyone believes I am a harlot.”
“You are my wife. I will kill anyone foolish enough to call you a harlot.”
“You said I would be known as the Whore of Jerusalem.”
“No, Anna. Do not tell me you believed that pile of—” He pounded the table. “I said what I did only to send you scurrying to Egypt. You are not a whore, Anna. Not even close. I have used harlots, and—” He hung his head. “Can you ever forgive me?”
She patted his thick brown hair, glad for the excuse to touch the man who was now her husband. “Have no fear, you have not offended me.”
As he looked up, misery marked his every feature. “I treated you cruelly that day, so you would agree to go to Egypt. I wanted you safely away from Zara. But mostly, I wanted you safely away from me.”
“What do you mean… from you? Time and again you have pulled me out of trouble. I am not afraid of you, Julian of Alexandria. Not anymore.”
It was the truth.
Not long ago the thought of being alone in a room with a Roman soldier had scared her to death. And the idea of marrying a heathen would have been unthinkable. Julian’s shorn hair and smooth, beardless face made it impossible to pretend he was anything but a Gentile. And while her stomach trembled with apprehension about the prospects of the marriage bed, she was not repulsed or afraid of the man taking her there.
Julian remained all serious intent. “Anna, I have desired you from the first moment I saw you. That is why I threatened to make you a whore. That is why I am desperate to send you to Egypt. I fear you are a delight I will not be able to get enough of.”
Her heart beat faster. How was she supposed to resist this? Resist him? “But we will divorce.”
“I have made promises to my father. Promises to Rome. Promises you tempt me to break. Believe me, Anna, you are no harlot. You are a perfect innocent, unspoiled by wealth and power. Unaffected by the natural beauty and grace that are yours.”
“Do not say more,” she pleaded, flustered by the too generous compliments.
Though it explained much.
Such as the reason Julian kept going out of his way to help her. And the reason he had treated her so abominably in Caesarea. It also told her more than she wanted to know about the strength of his attraction for her and the extreme lengths he was willing to go to keep his word.
His fingers slid over her brow, pausing near the spot where the stone had hit. “I am sorry I did not arrive in time to stop what happened.”
She lifted her hand to her forehead. The small cut was no longer sore to the touch. “It’s nothing. I doubt it will leave a scar.”
He traced the lines of her face. “Not just this,” he whispered, and placed a tender kiss alongside her injury. “I wished to spare you the ugly words and false accusations. The vile hatred.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I felt totally alone. And then you came, and I was not alone anymore.”
“You are not alone now, Anna.” He kissed her gently. “Neither of us is alone tonight.”
She pulled back. “But you are not alone. You have your men and your mother.”
“At least I have you fooled.” His sad countenance belied his muffled laugh. “Believe it, Anna, I am alone as a person can be.”
“I detest being alone.” And afraid. She sighed. She was so very tired of being afraid.
Desperate loneliness outweighed her apprehension over consummating the marriage. “Did you mean it when you told your slave you would stay in bed late?” What she really wanted to say was Please, don’t leave, Julian… stay with me… please stay with me.
He smiled, and this time delight reached his eyes. “If you like?”
Her face heated. “I did not know there would be so much talking.”
“Anna.” Her name came out as a quiet laugh. “Please look at me. I’ll never get out what I want to say if we keep going on like this.”
She gazed at his handsome face.
“What happens tonight, happens between a husband and a wife.” He gently cradled her hands. “I do not want you to feel dirty or stained by what we do. The marriage bed is clean and undefiled. Does that make sense? Do you understand what I am saying?”
A few short weeks ago she had believed herself condemned to a life of harlotry. Her dreams and hopes shattered under the fears and whispers of others. Then this stranger, a heathen Gentile, had walked into her life and offered to help her make an honorable marriage. And with her life hanging in the balance, he had stepped forward to save her. Even now he was acting with incredible kindness.
“Thank you, Husband, for taking your time and for being so gentle and kind with me. I know it is not something I am owed. And that makes your thoughtfulness and patience that much more precious.”
She would not allow him to believe she was going to his bed unwillingly. “Julian of Alexander, I want you, too.”
That glorious smile of his appeared.
A wave of shyness hit. She lowered her eyes. “And, Husband… thank you for being honest with me.”
She sensed a sudden change in him. She looked up. His blue eyes had waxed cold and his geni
al smile was nowhere to be found.
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
Twenty-One
Julian scrubbed his fingers over his face and through his hair, trying to make sense of what Anna had said. “Honest? What are you talking about, woman?”
She shrank away. “For telling me the marriage would end once we reach Egypt.”
“Oh…” The sorry response was all he managed as it dawned on him what a complete fool he was. He had been trying to make Anna comfortable with him, and it had been working. That is, until his overactive conscience got in the way.
Always on guard against insult, his mind jumped immediately to the sore subject of his circumcision.
Ah, yes, his cursed circumcision.
It was the only stipulation his Jewish mother had made of his Roman father. Julian had asked himself a thousand times why his long-dead father had agreed to have his firstborn son circumcised. Other than this one concession, he had been had raised and trained as a Roman with never a whisper of Jewish ways mentioned.
Over the years his circumcised state had caused him no end of grief. He, like all Roman boys, spent hours at the gymnasium and baths, which exposed him to years of ridicule and taunting. In exchange for his troubles, he dealt out many a bloody nose and more than a few black eyes. Fostering his cold-eyed, hard-nosed, unapproachable demeanor to the point of developing a fearsome reputation, he used it to fend off unwanted questions and thoughtless jesting.
These days he looked men directly in the face and dared them to make a comment. Most declined. Though now and again someone would trick the camp fool into making a stupid remark, giving him the satisfaction of rearranging a nose. But it happened less and less.
More embarrassing, from time to time, a concerned matron would kindly take him aside to inform him a simple surgical means existed to correct his—ah, defect. Since punching the dear woman in the face was out of the question, he would gag out a curt thank you and run the other way.
While not normally squeamish, he drew the line at epispasm, a practice resorted to by some apostate Jews. He shuddered at the thought of a letting a Greek physician, needle-and-thread-in-hand, anywhere near.
His conscience pricked him, suggesting that there was more to his rejection of epispasm than simple squeamishness. He shoved the troublesome thought aside.
A wife, no matter how temporary a one, could not be dealt with in the usual fashion.
It really would be best to walk away.
He studied Anna. Tremendous beauty twined with spirited courage.
His heart leapt.
How could it not?
No—if he was sure of one thing, it was this—no matter the trouble it brought down on his head, he would not turn from Anna until absolutely necessary.
“Come, Wife,” he said softly.
She bit her lip. “Are you sure nothing is amiss?”
Telling himself he would confess all tomorrow, he stood and drew Anna with him. “All is well.”
∞∞∞
Anna’s heart beat faster as Julian led her across the bedchamber’s threshold. Windswept rain pattered against the shuttered windows. Oil lamps twinkled like stars in the night sky. The seductive scent of sandalwood teased her nose.
The plush brown bedcover was pulled back, exposing an expanse of white sheeting.
Matters were moving much too quickly and not quickly enough. “May I have a few moments alone to change into my night clothes?”
He pulled her into an embrace and his warm mouth brushed hers. “I will die from longing if I have to wait another moment.”
A lovely tingle spiraled through her. “Changing attire would be a waste of time, I suppose, as we will soon both be—” Her face heated. How foolish. Saying the word naked in front of her husband should not be this difficult.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Your modesty does you credit.”
All would be well. She trusted Julian to be careful and loving with her. “Take me to bed,” she said against his mouth, then lost herself in the sweetness of his kisses.
Many wonderous hours later, Anna welcomed the opportunity to study Julian as he slept. His rugged face was impossibly handsome. He smelled of marvelous exertion. His blue dressing gown was twisted around his muscled body.
They were both still fully clothed. Bless Julian and his concern for her modesty. Next time she would not be so shy.
This most beautiful of nights marked her passage into full womanhood.
She was dizzy with joy and relief at achieving what she had thought lost forever. Marriage and children constituted all her hopes and dreams. Just a few short weeks ago she believed her lot in life was to be that of a harlot and not a wife. And though in all probability this marriage would not last past the next full moon, Julian and hers was a real marriage, and she was a real wife, a married woman. But might something change if a child was conceived?
Fright and elation raced through her veins.
How would Julian feel?
Anna laid her head on his chest. He was a good man.
If she had to marry a Gentile, she was glad it was to someone as upright and noble as Julian.
“Good morning, Wife,” her husband said huskily, and his powerful hand caressed her back.
Her body awakened in anticipation. “Good morning, Husband.”
They would not be leaving the bedchamber any time soon.
And how thrilling was that?
Twenty-Two
A few hours later, standing at the tall wooden door leading to the Temple grounds, Anna bit her lip and peered up at Julian. “Are you sure?”
His brow creased. “I hoped you would be pleased about my arranging for you to visit the Temple and offer sacrifices. I wanted your last day in Jerusalem to be special.”
Though an answer to her prayers, Anna was not convinced. Slinking quietly out of Jerusalem seemed a wiser move. “What if Zara refuses me entrance. Or tries to arrest me?”
“Your own High Priest has assured me my wife’s presence will go unnoticed.”
“Unnoticed?” She laughed. “A herd of wild beasts charging through the Temple compound would have a better chance of going unseen than me—Cursed Anna, the Roman’s wife.”
“Let them stare.” He reached for the door latch.
She stayed his hand. “I do not want to be seen coming from the fortress.” She had only ever entered the Temple compound through the double portals of the Hulda Gates. Using the Fortress Antonia entrance felt wrong. Very wrong.
“Does your law forbid it?”
“No. But—”
He jerked the door open. “But you do not want to be seen with me, a Gentile dog?”
She winced. “Whereas you are overjoyed at the prospect of walking before all Israel with Cursed Anna by your side?”
His lips twitched into a smile. “You make a good point.”
Hundreds of worshippers stared, as Julian boldly led the way across the vast courtyard. To her horror, he headed at a fast clip to the boundary between the Court of Gentiles and the Court of Israel. She gasped, as she hurried to keep up. “You are not allowed to go any farther.”
Julian stopped a sandal’s length from disaster and shot her a black look. “I know.”
Her toes curled. “Forgive me.”
Of course, the commander of Fortress Antonia would know that Gentiles were forbidden from entering the courts reserved for Jews alone. For the unlearned, a low stone wall marked the barrier, posted with a dire warning sign. No foreigner is to enter within the balustrade and enclosure around the sanctuary. Whoever is caught will have himself to blame for his subsequent death.
The arrival of Herod Antipas spoiled any hope for enjoyment in the Temple visit.
“Commander, you coy man. You married. And here you said the king’s daughter would not do, but you have gone and married a destitute Jewess. It must be true love. Perhaps the pretty little thing will make a real Jew of you.”
The color drained from Julian’s
face.
Anna stared at her husband. Had she missed something important? True Jew? What could the king mean?
“Do not cause trouble on my behalf, Father,” a sultry voice interrupted.
Indecently gorgeous as ever, Salome sashayed toward them accompanied by her regally bedecked mother.
Buzzing onlookers scattered out of the path of the grand pair like locusts fleeing the reaper’s scythe. The overwhelming smell of their exotic perfumes arrived ahead of them. They took up their usual places to either side of the king.
“Commander.” All pouty lips and big brown eyes, Salome let her words drip with pathos. “It is a sad day, is it not?”
Anna ground her teeth. It was foolish to feel jealous.
“Has a pet of yours died, Princess?” Julian asked.
Salome lifted her hand to her ear. “What is that I hear? The sound of hearts breaking throughout Rome at the news Julian of Alexandria has wed.”
“Those hearts will not stay broken for long, Your Highness.” The cool indifference in Julian’s voice reassured Anna she had not married a fool.
“Though you owe me no favors, Princess, I would ask one of you. As I am unable to escort my wife into the inner grounds, would you do me the honor of allowing my wife to walk with you to the Women’s Court?”
That remark had Anna reconsidering his intelligence.
Salome donned a forced smile. “If it pleases you, Commander.”
“Do be kind,” he instructed.
The king and his party moved off.
Offering no promises, Salome turned for the Woman’s Court. “Come, girl.”
Anna opened her mouth to protest.
“Go,” Julian encouraged. “I will wait here for you.”
Shooting him a parting scowl, Anna trotted after the insufferable royals like a family pet, muttering unkind remarks aimed at Roman soldiers and royal princesses.
A lattice screen separated the Men’s Court from the Women’s Court. Columned all about, the dizzying height of the open-roofed porch always impressed. Anna paused upon entering the large airy space.
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