A mistake, for Salome doubled back, grasped her elbow, and propelled her to space reserved for the royals.
“I do not belong at the front.”
“You are the wife of the Commander of Fortress Antonia. Start acting the part.”
Afforded the best sight she’d ever had of the holy ministrations, Anna willed herself to concentrate on the knot of priests coaxing a bawling white ox to the holy altar.
Julian had ruined everything.
The visit to the Temple to sacrifice was supposed to restore Anna’s reputation, but taking a place among the despised Herodians would serve only to tarnish her name even further. Her sacrifices would be as suspect as the king’s heathen bloodlines.
“The wives of Roman soldiers do not sit in the places of honor,” Anna hissed.
Salome inspected a broken fingernail. “They do if the soldier is Jewish.”
“Julian is not a Jew.”
Salome’s amused laugh put the fear of God in Anna. “Your husband is circumcised.”
“You are lying.”
“Well, is he?”
“Is he what?’
“Is he circumcised? If anyone should know, you should. Unless…” Unholy glee lit Salome’s eyes. “You never saw him, did you?”
At the altar a priest poleaxed the bawling white ox between the eyes, stunning it for the kill.
Anna and the bull and dropped to their knees simultaneously.
Like a sour note from Satan’s trumpet, the refrain—Julian is Jewish, Julian is Jewish—screeched through her mind.
Salome knelt beside Anna, and ingrained habit had both women assuming the penitent’s outstretched, prostrate position.
With blatant disregard for both remorsefulness and piety, Salome nudged Anna. “Tell me, was our brave Commander afraid of you learning the truth? Or did poor little Anna enter the marriage bed like a child who must be coddled?”
Anna’s insides twisted from trying to suppress the upwelling grief and pain. She did not want the wicked woman to know just how right she was. Though the marriage had been consummated more than once, she and Julian had remained clothed the entire wedding night. She choked on a sob. “Leave me alone.”
“Oh, this is rich.” The sound of Salome’s soft chortling was salt in the wound.
Anna hated, hated, hated Julian.
Twenty-Three
Julian paced the length of the latticed barrier. He knew Anna had learned the truth the moment he saw her. Head down and shoulders stooped, she hurried past him. Not eager for the coming discussion, he let her go. And he busied himself with fortress business to avoid going back to his apartment.
The end of the day found him walking to his rooms with all the haste of a man headed to his own crucifixion. He pushed the door open. Anna sat huddled on the lounging couch. Eyes red-rimmed from crying, she took one look at him and buried her face in her lap.
He had hoped she would be over it by now. He came and stood at the end of the couch. “Let it go.”
Hair was plastered to her tear-stained face and the fancy blue tunic hopelessly wrinkled. But her chin came up. “You deceived me!”
He reached his hand to her face. “Anna.”
She slapped it away.
“The mutilation means nothing!” Ironically, it was the first real lie he had told her.
Her eyes flashed. “You are a Jew. Yet you sacrifice to heathen gods.”
“My flesh is mutilated, otherwise I am Roman to the core.” The word circumcision never passed his lips. Loath to speak of his missing foreskin, mutilation fairly summed up his view of the matter. And it was less derogatory than clipped or skinned, favored slurs of drunks and ribald poets alike.
“You are a Jew,” she protested.
“Stop saying that.”
A look of horror crossed her pale face. “You hate us?”
“I do not hate Jews. My mother is Jewish.”
“You hate the rest of us.”
A growl of frustration rolled through him. “Why do you insist on misunderstanding?”
“I understand all I need to.”
Her contempt all but scalded him. “Understand this. I do not want to hear of the matter ever again.”
“You would be better off saying so to your backbiting princess than to me.”
Envisioning the severe tongue-lashing he would give Salome next time he saw the scheming troublemaker offered no solace. “I will deal with her later.”
“Do you say that about all the women whose virginity you have stolen?”
Julian could not believe his ears. “What are you talking about, woman?” After all the care he had taken to make her initiation to the marriage bed a pleasurable experience, her foul characterization of his motives went down bitter as gall.
“She knows you are circumcised!”
“Half the Roman world knows I am mutilated! Are you accusing me of fornicating with them too?”
“You should have told me! I looked like a fool to Salome.”
Guilty of underestimating Salome’s vindictiveness, he reached for Anna. “Please hear me—"
“Stay away from me.” She leapt off the couch and edged around him.
“Where do you think you are going?”
“Back to Miriam and Crispus.” She broke for the door and grappled it open.
He slammed the door shut. “My wife stays with me.”
She huddled against the honey-colored timber. “I thought you were the answer to my prayers.”
Her rejection wounded deeper than the cruelest of insults. “And now?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Now I know the Lord has truly turned his face from me.”
If he had handed her his sword and let her run him through, it would have proved a less painful than her total rejection.
Twenty-Four
The magnificent meal the slave Tevy laid out to celebrate Anna’s visit to the Temple met a sorry reception. She ate little and said less.
Julian chewed his food with grim determination. His foul mood filled every corner of the chamber.
She ducked her head and pushed the uneaten food around on her plate.
Salome’s words continued to taunt.
Tell me, was our brave Commander afraid of you learning the truth? Or did poor little Anna enter the marriage bed like a child who must be coddled?
She looked up at Julian again.
“I know what you are doing.” His petulant voice startled her. “You are trying to determine if I look Jewish or not. Have you made up your mind yet?”
Her face heated.
“Go ahead and get it over with. I will not have you stealing looks at me all the way to Egypt.”
Terribly curious, she searched his face.
“Well?”
He looked as he always had—like himself. She could not bring herself to say it. She felt unaccountably guilty as though she had betrayed him rather than the other way around. She rejected the unsettling thought.
He stood and held out a hand. “Perhaps the marriage bed will reveal the answer to you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, only to snap it shut.
“Now this is interesting.” That disarming smile of his spread across his face. “You are truly curious?”
She studied the floor. “Salome laughed at me because I did not know you were circumcised.” The hasty confession only served to double her mortification.
“Is that why you are angry with me?”
“Yes… but I will get over it soon enough. What is Salome’s scorn to me? Her regard means nothing.”
Public humiliation was nothing new to Anna. She would recover her equilibrium. She did not care a bit what Salome thought of her. The opinions that mattered to her would come from people like Miriam and the goldsmiths, Zachariah and Joseph, and the lovebirds Peter and Rachael.
Julian misunderstood. “Good. I knew you were made of sterner stuff than to let that man-eater get under your skin.” The corners of his mouth twitched wryly. “And, here I
feared you might never forgive me.”
The light dismissal of his apostate ways infuriated anew. “Forgiveness would imply I care.”
A wary look entered his eyes.
“I care less about you than I do Salome.” Which was a lie. She cared a great deal more for Julian than she did anyone else. That is what made his betrayal that much harder to bear.
“You are set on judging me.”
The gall of the man, turning the blame back on her. “Your apostate ways judge you.”
“And you are ignorant.”
“Ignorant? Ignorant?” The cooler his composure, the hotter her ire. “You have turned your back on your mother, your people, and your God. If that is not apostasy, I do not know what is.”
“Do not bore me with your religious nonsense.”
“Dismissing heathen gods is all good and well.” She had admired Julian much more when she thought him only a heathen, instead of a traitor. “But you disregard the Lord God of Israel at your own peril.”
“I do not call any of the gods my god.”
She stared for a moment dumbfounded. “But you have to believe in something.”
“I believe I am tired.” He strolled to the bedchamber door. “We start the journey to Egypt tomorrow. A good night’s sleep will improve your outlook.”
She did not want to go to Egypt and she most certainly did not want to revisit the marriage bed. “There is no need for me to leave Jerusalem now. By marrying me, you have made me an upright woman. I no longer need your protection. Divorce me, and I promise you will never see me again.”
“Divorce you?” he replied, his tone incredulous, as if she had suggested he jump off the highest Temple wall.
Why couldn’t he see the good sense in her words? “It fairly summarizes your grand plan—take me to safety and divorce me. Save yourself the trouble of a trip to Egypt. I can leave now, if you like?”
He yanked open the door. “No.”
“Why not?” she wailed in frustration.
“To bed, Wife.”
He was in for a rude surprise if he thought the blunt command would end the argument.
She marched into the bedchamber and halted.
The bedcovers were pulled back and the pillows plumped. A lamp burned on the bedside table. The aroma of the sandalwood scented sheets reached Anna at the same time she spotted two white silky shifts hanging over the top of a privacy screen. Steam rose from two alabaster basins. Accompanying linens lined a nearby table. The soft lull of chirping insects floated through the open windows served to add to the room’s feel of warm intimacy.
She closed her eyes against the perfect arrangements. Julian did not plan to act the total brute, then. The harsh words she had hurled at him had not lessened his ardor for her, nor diminished his thoughtful kindness.
Was he as torn as she?
She recalled Julian saying the real reason he wanted her far, far from him—she tempted him. He had her full sympathy. While she loathed his apostasy, she was still terribly attracted to the man. In truth, she pulsed from head to toe in anticipation of what was to come. The attraction between them was too strong to deny or ignore.
Exile to Egypt probably was for the best.
Julian’s hand barely touched the back of her arm. “Go change while I wash.”
She hurried behind the screen and watched him cross to the small table. He took up a white towel and wet it in the waiting bowl of water. Taking what comfort she could from the illusion of privacy provided by the lattice screen, she disrobed. Twisting around, she reached above her head to grab the smaller shift. Julian was watching her. A cold breeze blew several strands of hair across her heated face. She turned around. After a brief struggle to put her head through the opening meant for an arm, she successfully drew the flimsy piece of silk over her head.
Rooted in place, and not sure what to do next, she welcomed the command she come and wash. Julian took his turn behind the screen. He took his time undressing. She exchanged quick glances at him as she washed. The partial view afforded by the screen was as excruciatingly unhelpful as it was titillating. Inattention to the task at hand led her to slosh water everywhere.
An amused laugh proved Julian was perfectly aware of what she was doing.
Not bothering to dry her hands, she hurried to the bed, dived under the covers, and pulled them up to her chin.
All too soon Julian stood by the bed.
She tensed.
What should she do? Turn to him? Turn away?
Tempted to reach out to him, she pulled her arms closer to her sides. Eyes closed tight, she whispered the words of the Psalmist. “Hear, O God, and have mercy upon me, be my helper.” She repeated the prayer over and over.
She heard a disgusted grunt. The bed creaked under Julian’s weight.
They lay side by side, yet it felt as though a great gulf had opened between them. After a while he blew out a harsh breath and turned his back to her.
If Anna thought living in the dark alleys of Jerusalem had taught all there was to know about loneliness. It paled compared to how desperately alone she felt at that moment.
∞∞∞
Anna had fallen silent. Thank the heavens. Julian could have ignored a few tears, but the prayers were too much.
I thought you were the answers to my prayers.
Remembering the words Anna threw in his face made him feel guilty as sin. That was bad enough, and now this—begging for deliverance from him.
She must truly hate him. She had said so, but he had not quite believed her. He ought to let her go.
Years and years of keeping himself apart and alone had finally caught up with him.
He was not ready to forgo the sense of belonging she provided him. Anna was his wife and she would share his bed until he delivered her into his mother’s hands. Not that he would touch her. He had never taken a woman unwillingly. And would not do so now.
The trip to Egypt would be torture. An unbearable torture that would end too soon.
Twenty-Five
Two days later, as their ship sailed, Julian ought to be relieved to see Caesarea shrinking in the distance. But peace of any kind eluded him. The confines of the ship, though large as sea-going vessels went, were too small for him and a certain forlorn Jewess.
If not in a hurry to depart Israel, he could have secured private space on a Roman military vessel. Instead, he had purchased passage on this cargo ship. The belly of the boat held a full load of wine and olive oil amphoras, Judea’s main exports. The captain earned a little extra money by renting makeshift topside shelters to travelers. Those too poor to afford even these crude accommodations simply curled up on the decking.
Anna stood at the rail, apart from the others, watching the land slip from view. A few tendrils of hair had escaped her sober gray kerchief. She wore her plainest tunic. Her mournful state was such, she might as well be wearing sack cloth and ashes.
He joined her.
She watched in silence as the land of her birth faded from view.
He groped for the right words to console her. “If you like, I can read the words of the Torah to you tonight. I will leave the Sabbath prayers to you.”
Tonight’s sundown heralded the start of the Jew’s Sabbath Rest. To ensure the young Jewess could observe the holy day with as much decorum as possible, he had done all in his power to see her quickly settled. A myriad of arcane Sabbath rules existed. He had no idea which rulings Anna considered sacrosanct. His offer to read to her from the Torah was meant to compensate for any shortcomings.
Her lack of sleep showed as dark half-moons beneath her brown eyes. “You own Torah scrolls?”
The question caught him off guard. “Go lie down and rest. I will join you shortly.”
She eyed him warily. “I would rest easier without you.”
A wave of unutterable sadness washed over him. “Neither of us will rest easy until this is finished.”
Several hours later, the swishing of water along the ship’s bow
and the side planking replaced the calling of seabirds. Anna sat with her legs under her in the middle of the bed, shielding her eyes against the dying sun’s brilliant orange glow. Julian wondered again over the wisdom of taking a woman born and bred in Jerusalem to the Land of Ra, the god of the setting sun.
At least he’d had enough foresight to procure a decent mattress from the Caesarean fortress. Other than that, the boat’s sparse accommodations had all the charm of a Spartan camp. A three-sided lean-to with room for their bedding, and little else. All their belongings were stuffed into baskets that swung on wooden pegs with the rise and fall of the ship. A heavy canvas curtain served as a door. Soiled with layers of sun-bleached stains, it was probably just as well the once-white sailcloth had to be left flapped back. It was either that or sit in the dark, since the passengers were forbidden the use of oil lamps and cook fires, for fear an untended fire would take the ship down.
Unable to stand upright in the squat structure, Julian paced the deck. Seeing Anna turning paler by the moment, he stopped and knelt before her. “Are you ill?”
Her doe eyes widened. “It is not what you think.”
“I thought you were feeling seasick.”
“Oh…of course,” she stammered. “I…I feel fine.”
“Are you with child?” His head reeled at the thought.
“No.” Her vehemence cooled as quickly as it had risen and she dipped her head.
Kneeling beside her, he gently coaxed her chin up. “Are you sure?”
Misery glistened in her eyes. “You would not allow me to keep your child, would you?”
She had good reason to worry. Law and custom, be it Jewish or Roman, dictated children belonged to the father. Mother and child were at the mercy of the father in these matters. Still, her unquestioning belief he was a heartless brute who would tear child and mother apart was a kick in the gut.
“Why do you say that?” he asked gently.
“You would not want your child raised by the woman known as Jerusalem’s Harlot, would you?”
“Unless you plan to run away from my mother and take up residence in a house of ill-repute, the Jews of Egypt will know you as Anna the ex-wife of that no-good Roman.” The jest fell flat. “That will be bad enough, I suppose?”
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