by Tessa Afshar
For days we slaved to prepare a feast worthy of the occasion. My mother wanted to prove that although we had no royal associations, we could provide as good a banquet as any found in the house of Herod himself. There would be only seven of us for dinner, but we had prepared for seventy. I was worn out by the time the evening came.
I knew that if my father and Master Shual did not manage to come to a financial understanding, the grandest food from the emperor’s own palace in Rome would not bring about this betrothal. Between them, the men had the power to forge or disband. Even in a love match, money reigned. We were stable enough, financially. Stability was one thing, however. Extra coin quite another. There just wasn’t that much spare cash. If Master Shual proved greedy, this wedding might remain a dream in Joanna’s heart.
My mother forbade Joanna from doing any work that day. Instead, she sent her for a long bath, and Keziah spent hours curling and adorning her hair, although of course it would be covered by a veil as long as she was in the company of men. Chuza’s mother, Merab, would have the privilege of seeing her while we ate our dinner apart from the men. Before dinner, sweet wine and dainty delicacies would be served in mixed company.
My parents welcomed Master Shual and his family warmly, and we all settled on the freshly cleaned couches. Joanna arrived last, veiled as expected for an unmarried maiden. Not even a veil could hide the radiance of her beauty, and Chuza gaped, forgetting to greet her. Everyone laughed.
“There is no hiding the fact that my son has set his heart upon your daughter,” Master Shual said, addressing my father. “We are here to ask for her hand, Benjamin. If she is willing, of course.” He threw Joanna an expectant look. “What do you say, child? Are you willing to come to my son and be his wife?”
If I could manufacture the exact shade of red that stained Joanna’s cheeks, I would be a rich woman, I thought. “Yes, master,” she said and stared at the beads on her shoes.
“Good. Good.” Shual rubbed his hands together. “Your father and I shall discuss the details over dinner. Such delicious smells are coming from your kitchen, Elizabeth. My stomach is grumbling like a roaring camel.”
“I shall have them serve the meal at once,” my mother said before leading the women to an inner room already prepared for our supper.
The two mothers spent most of the dinner hour bragging on the excellence of their children.
“How old is Chuza, if I may ask, Merab?” my mother asked.
“He is twenty-four.”
“So old? I am surprised you have not found a wife for him before this. My Joanna is only fifteen.”
“It is a woman’s business to get married as soon as possible, and a man’s to keep unmarried as long as he can. I think Chuza is too young, if you ask me.”
My mother stiffened. “He does not seem to think so.”
“My son is brilliant in almost every way. We expect a great future for him. But like all young men, his head is turned by a pretty face. What can a mother do? We have to bear with our children’s lapses.”
I bit my lip. My mother, I could see, was not pleased to have her favorite daughter described as a lapse. A chill settled over the room after that.
I could have bowed down and kissed the carpet with relief when the men rejoined us. By then the edge between the two older women had grown as sharp as an Egyptian dagger. Clearly neither one felt that anyone was good enough for her progeny.
I noticed my father’s mouth was a tight pale line. Chuza, on the other hand, sported a big grin, so I guessed the betrothal had been agreed upon, though perhaps not according to terms that pleased my father.
“What news, Father?” I dared to ask.
He took a deep breath and placed a hand on Chuza’s shoulder. “You shall be my son-in-law,” he said, sealing the betrothal with the formal words once spoken by Saul to David. I sighed with relief. Everyone blessed God with various degrees of enthusiasm.
Chuza approached Joanna and reached for her hand. “A gift for you until the full bride price is delivered. Think of me when you wear it.” He slipped a ruby the size of my earlobe onto her finger.
I grimaced, disinterested in the dazzling beauty of the jewel. That ring must have cost a fortune. They would expect us to match its grandeur with the dowry we provided for Joanna. How were we to secure such a vast sum? I could see why my father sat quiet and pale, not joining the excited chatter in the room.
At least we had a year to prepare. My own wedding was set to take place in one month. Two weddings in one year. I had helped my father set aside a portion for my own dowry. I knew that Ethan and Master Ezer would take me even with a small offering, but I had my pride. I refused to come to my husband empty-handed. As it was, I brought him a mountain of trouble and shame. I could at least get this one thing right.
THIRTEEN
In their hearts humans plan their course,
but the LORD establishes their steps.
PROVERBS 16:9, NIV
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND what the problem is,” Ethan said, leaning against a gnarled olive tree. We were alone in the garden, within sight of the house, but too far away to be overheard. “You know I will help you after we are married. Why this urgency to provide for Joanna’s dowry? You’ll have months to work it out.”
I shrugged.
“Elianna, I haven’t seen you so much as an hour over the past ten days. The only reason we are speaking now is because I cornered you in the workshop. Have you even slept above three hours a night? You will make yourself sick at this pace.”
“Ethan, leave it be. I know what I’m doing.”
The golden eyes narrowed. He pushed himself away from the tree trunk and bent toward me until our faces grew level. “Explain it to me so that I can understand, then.”
I swallowed a groan. He would not give up until he had what he wanted. “It isn’t merely her dowry.”
“You are breaking your back for your dowry? You think I care?”
“I care. I am not coming to you with one denarius less than what our fathers agreed upon.”
“Benjamin has already set that money aside, Elianna. He told my father last month.”
I hung my head. “He had to spend some of it. He placed a larger order of wool than usual and we were short of cash when it was delivered. We need to have more merchandise this year if we are to have enough for Joanna’s dowry. So our purchases have had to expand, and we weren’t ready for the extra outlay of capital.”
“Your father can pay your dowry later. I know he is an honest man.”
I shook my head. “We will keep our promise to your family. I have worked it out. We are almost finished with the vermilion and dark-blue wool lengths. With Viriato’s help, we can have enough to pay your family everything my father promised.”
“How can you be so stubborn, woman? You are going to come to me a corpse on our wedding night. It’s not exactly what a man dreams of at night when he thinks of his marriage bed.” His eyes burned with a fire I had not noticed before.
My heart started to pound like a military drum. I was speechless. Ethan laughed at the look on my face. “You need more rest. If you refuse me, I will complain to your father and he will force you to stop working altogether. I will insist on it.”
“You would not!”
“Without hesitation. If you wish to keep working, then you have to cut down your hours.”
“I don’t have time, Ethan.”
“And,” he continued as though I had not spoken, “you will join your parents and mine at the feast in Avram’s house.”
Avram Ben Hesed was a wealthy Jewish merchant from a noble family whose connections extended to Roman gentry, Jewish aristocracy, and every major merchant in Jerusalem. His annual banquets were legendary. My parents never missed them. No one who had the honor of being invited would consider missing the greatest feast in Palestine unless they stood at death’s door. This year, I had declared that my work prevented me from coming.
“If your father can spare one
free evening for a banquet, I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” Ethan insisted.
“My father has given the running of the workshop into my hands. It is my responsibility now, not his.”
He ignored me. “I shall come to fetch you myself. Don’t be late.” Whistling a tune under his breath, Ethan turned his back and walked toward the gate. To my utter vexation I realized he was whistling a bridal song.
On my way back to the workshop, I ran into Calvus. He had another pile of fabrics in his arms, stacked so high he could barely walk straight.
I raised my eyebrows. “More purchases? You have bought enough fabric from my father to clothe a small army.”
“That is precisely what I intend to do, O alluring daughter of Vesta.”
“My mother’s name is Elizabeth,” I said, my voice sharp. “And what do you mean that is what you intend to do?”
“Our soldiers are wild for your father’s creations. They pay good money to have them. Your father has no interest in expanding his business into the garrison. So I buy from him and sell at higher prices. We both profit.”
I gaped. “You must be jesting.”
“Why? Your father knows what I am about.”
“He knows?”
“And gives his blessing. Ask him, if you don’t believe my word.”
Sweeping my skirts, I walked past him toward the house, my back rigid. His low laughter rang in my ears long after I could no longer hear it.
To my stupefaction, my father affirmed Calvus’s claim. “What harm can it do? I am not going into the garrison to barter with Roman lowlifes.”
“And he is paying you full price for everything?”
“He will.” My father shrugged. “In the end, I will have increased our sales and lost nothing by it.”
The eve of Avram’s feast dawned too soon for my liking. By the time I left the workshop and ran home for a hasty wash and change of clothes, Ethan had already arrived. He kept his thoughts to himself as he saw me fly up the stairs to my chamber. I heard my mother make an apologetic comment before I slammed the door shut.
For a moment I looked in the mirror. Curls flew wildly about my face, my tunic was wrinkled, my shoes stained with blue dye, and my skin seemed sallow and dry. The disarray of my hair and clothes caught me off guard. Being the daughter of a fabric merchant meant that I was always expected to appear to best advantage. My attire made a statement about our business. When had I grown so haggard and slovenly?
My mother and Joanna came to help me. We dashed about my chamber, combing my hair and stripping me at the same time, grabbing fresh clothes and pieces of jewelry as we went. By the time we descended the stairs, I presented a more respectable sight. I worried that Ethan might be displeased by my lateness. Instead, I caught him laughing silently.
“What?” I asked, with a half-hearted attempt at sounding annoyed. He had scared me with his threat of putting an end to my work. I felt relieved that I had not angered him by being late.
“New fashion?”
I looked down where he was pointing. My feet were still encased in my dye-stained work shoes. Tucked in one corner of a shoe, unnoticed by me, sat the wrinkled handkerchief with which I had washed. With every step, I was dragging it on the ground behind me.
Someone nudged me hard in the ribs, waking me up from a restless sleep. I blinked, bleary eyed and confused by the noise before I remembered Avram and his feast.
My mother shoved a goblet of new wine under my nose. “Don’t shame us, Elianna. Try to stay awake.”
“Yes, Mother.” Dutifully, I took a sip before replacing the goblet on a low table. Avram’s feasts were a mingling of Jewish and Roman custom. Men and women remained in the same grand hall, though the women were assigned to one side and the men to the other. Through an ornately designed colonnade, we could observe one another. I saw my father speaking animatedly to Calvus. Many other Romans were present in the room, and to my delight, Claudia joined my sister and me before long.
Fanning herself with a fan made of peacock feathers set in gold filigree, she reclined on the couch next to me. “By Apollo, it is hot in here.”
Several women ambled to the other side of the hall carrying lutes and citharas. Their clothes were scanty by any measure and I wondered how much skin would be on display when they bent over. The thought of Ethan seeing all that bountiful female flesh made me cringe.
“Oh good. We are to have music,” Claudia exclaimed before catching my expression. “Do you not like singing?”
I flushed, embarrassed to be caught in my moment of jealousy. “I do, of course. Only these musicians are not . . . well, they are not wearing much.”
“And?”
“I find I don’t like the idea of Ethan looking at them. Can you imagine what he will see when they bend over?”
Claudia dissolved into laughter. “In one week you will be married to him, and you can blindfold him when you bring him to a feast, if you like.”
I gave serious consideration to the idea; it seemed doubtful that Ethan would allow it. No more feasts at Avram’s house, I decided. The lamps were smoky, the hour annoyingly late, and the air stuffy. Ethan would never miss it.
The offending musicians began to play and sing, and I had to admit with disgust that they were excellent. Their voices blended in beautiful harmony and their instruments filled the hall with a haunting melody.
“In Rome, we had music every night,” Claudia said, her tone wistful.
I gave her hand a squeeze. “Homesick?”
She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Not so much now you are here.”
The food started to arrive on large silver and gold platters. Some of the dishes were new to Claudia, and I explained their contents to her. Avram might have Romans for guests and eat and drink with them, bringing the frowning displeasure of many Pharisees upon him, but he drew the line at eating what the Law forbade. To Claudia’s disappointment, the food before us bore no resemblance to the meal provided at Herod’s feast. There were too many things we Jews were forbidden to eat that appealed to a Roman’s taste buds.
Weariness began to overcome me as warm food and sweet wine filled my belly and the mellow music of harp and lutes quieted my stretched nerves. My eyelids kept falling shut of their own accord and I had to battle just to keep them open.
“Look at this poor girl,” Claudia exclaimed. “You must be exhausted.”
“She’s been working day and night,” Joanna said.
“Then we must bundle her home.” She signaled one of the servants and sent him to fetch either my father or Ethan.
We rose and made our way to the courtyard. By the time we arrived, both my father and Ethan were waiting. To my surprise, Calvus tagged behind. A servant fetched the cart in which the women had driven over. My father and Ethan had ridden horses, an indulgence for which both men had a weakness regardless of the great expense. But when my father attempted to mount his horse, he found it had gone lame.
“It’s no good,” Calvus said, shaking his head as he examined the poor creature’s hoof. “You cannot ride him tonight. Take my horse, Benjamin.”
It went against the grain with me, being indebted to Calvus. Again. I could not fathom my aversion toward the man. He had shown us many kindnesses over the past months. Yet there always seemed to be an expectation attached to every generosity—an unnamed, unspoken calculation.
No one else seemed to experience this discomfort around him, and I kept it to myself, knowing my father’s fondness for the man. Still, I tried to circumvent the offer of his horse. He made it casually, but to give one’s personal ride to another entailed a significant act of trust and generosity. It was simply too intimate a gesture. “You can ride in the cart with us, Father.” I patted the seat next to me.
Father frowned and shook his head. I sensed that his dismissal of my suggestion had more to do with his desire to avoid sitting next to me than his enthusiasm for accepting Calvus’s offer. My heart contracted at his rejection. I never lost it—t
hat odd, hollow feeling every time he distanced himself from me.
“How will you get home if I take your horse, Calvus? I will walk,” he said.
“Don’t be foolish. Your house is much farther than my quarters. Come. I will give you a hand. Prepare for the ride of your life.” Calvus stretched a hand and beckoned to my father.
Father grinned at the thought of riding a Roman-trained horse. Once mounted, he looked down. “He is certainly tall.”
Calvus shrugged. “He is not one of your pretty Arabs, I grant you. But Perseus is strong and reliable.”
“My thanks.”
We began our journey at a brisk pace that jarred my bones as I held on for dear life to the edge of the cart. Ethan guided his horse near where I sat. “You are fading before my eyes. Take note of what I say, Elianna. You are not to rise out of your bed before midmorning tomorrow.”
I ignored him. I had never slept that late in my life and I was not about to start now.
“Elizabeth, I charge you to care for my wife. She is not allowed to do any work until after the noon hour. Can I trust you to keep her—” He stopped speaking abruptly and drew in a sharp breath. Without another word, he dug into the sides of his horse and, pulling on its bridle, left my side at a gallop.
I stared after him, stupefied. The sight that met my eyes made me freeze with dread. My father was weaving atop Perseus as the animal clipped forward at alarming speed. It was clear he had lost control of the mount. Without warning, the horse rose on his haunches and screeched as though in agony.
In slow motion, I saw my father lose his hold on the leather bridle. His hands waved wildly in the air. I gasped, my nails digging hard into the side of the cart as I saw him waver. Then he grabbed at the horse’s mane and for a short moment managed to steady himself as the horse’s hooves gained the ground again. But then the animal screamed, his cry an unearthly sound that made the hair on the back of my arms stand on end. With greater violence than before, Perseus rose on his haunches again.
