But even those intriguing details were nothing compared to the murals.
Just like in the palace and most of the wealthy homes I’d visited with Mariada, Lukio’s walls boasted vivid images, some stretching from floor to ceiling. But whereas the ones I’d seen before mostly depicted scenes from the sea, vainglorious histories of the Philistines, or various gods and animals, the ones in this room were altogether different.
Lukio’s walls were covered in trees.
Oaks, terebinths, cedars, and acacias all spread their branches in well-ordered and perfectly spaced grandeur, giving the illusion that one stood not within the home of a wealthy fighter but at the center of a wood with a brilliant blue sky overhead.
I’d never seen the like and was certain that nowhere in this city was its equal, for not only had Lukio created a lavishly appointed hall where the rich and pampered guests he undoubtedly entertained would be at ease, he’d also recreated the forest of Kiryat-Yearim.
Among the trees I also spied a few images of woodland creatures: a gray squirrel, a few rabbits, a herd of graceful deer, and colorful birds of all sorts. Creatures we’d come across in our mountainside wanderings.
But for as fascinating as the scenes of forested tranquility were, only one of the trees captured my full attention.
At the far end of the hall, one tree held court over the rest—an enormous sycamore fig, its abundant roots so ancient that they rose above the ground in a gnarled and knotted mass, with a dark hollow at their center, just big enough for two children to tuck themselves inside to whisper secrets and laugh together whenever the moon was full and bright.
My eyes stung as I took in the sight of the reddish clumps of figs that grew along the trunk of the tree, the rush of tears springing up with such force that I had to command myself to take in a deep gulp of air so I did not let them spill over in front of my mistress, her sister, and her mother.
For all these years, I’d assumed Lukio had forgotten me, had run off to some unknown place, grateful to leave behind those of us who cared about him, but instead he’d carried the precious memories we’d made together in those woods and put our tree on his wall where he would see it every single day.
As I stood gawking at the evidence that I’d meant just as much to Lukio as he had to me, Teitu told Mariada that his master would be joining the ladies soon, as he was attending to a household issue, but was eager to partake of a meal with them. Then the young man invited my mistress and the others to recline on well-carved chairs and plush cushioned benches and to refresh themselves with a cup of cool white wine while he went to alert Lukio to their arrival.
Once the women were situated and busy exclaiming over the sweetness of the delicate drink Teitu had poured into blue faience cups for them, the manservant swiftly took his leave, but not before giving me another speaking glance—one tinged with such sadness in his one eye that my stomach hollowed. What was happening?
“Oh, Mariada,” said her mother as soon as Teitu was gone. “This house is so lovely. Your bridegroom has done extremely well for himself.” She ran an appreciative palm over the arm of the ebony chair she sat upon, which was carved with long rows of lotus flowers—an import from Egypt, without a doubt. “There is nothing in this room that did not cost a fortune. You will lack for nothing, to be sure.”
“I cannot believe that this will soon be my home,” Mariada said, her eyes moving from the alabaster lampstands to the crimson-striped linen curtains that billowed between the pillars leading out to the courtyard.
“If this is how well appointed the main hall is, just imagine the private quarters,” said Jasara. ‘You’ll likely be sleeping upon one of the Egyptian-style beds.” She grinned slyly. “A large one, if the size of your betrothed is any indication.”
Mariada choked on her sip of wine, coughing and flushing pink. “Sister! The things you say!”
Jasara laughed and leaned toward her sister with a mischievous expression. “You’ll be in that man’s bed soon enough, Mar. You’d best stop blushing every time it’s mentioned. There’ll be nothing to be squeamish about when that beautiful man wraps you in those strong arms and has his big hands on you.” She let out a sigh of longing. “What I wouldn’t do to have those two-colored eyes all over me. . . .”
“Jasara!” Mariada cried, her face now fully scarlet with embarrassment and frustration. “That is my future husband you are speaking of.”
“Hush now, Jasara,” said Savina. “Let Mariada be.”
“I’m only saying what every other woman in this city is thinking,” said Jasara, with an unapologetic flick of her black curls. “My sister is a fortunate woman.”
“Indeed, she is,” said their mother. “I had no idea he was this wealthy. Your father certainly made you an advantageous match.”
Jasara learned forward again, lowering her voice. “And yet, did you notice there are no divinities depicted in this house? Not even at the threshold or in any of the wall niches we passed. A bit strange, don’t you think?”
Savina frowned slightly. “The trees are interesting. I’ve never seen such artistry, but it’s true there is nothing to revere the gods he serves. You’ll have to remedy that, Mariada. Or your fertility might be in jeopardy.”
“Perhaps his gods are in the sanctuary?” asked Mariada.
“That could be,” replied her mother. “It is plain that the gods have blessed him with abundant wealth and fortune on the fighting grounds. I have no doubt your womb will flourish as well.”
Again assaulted by images of a glowing Mariada giving birth to Lukio’s child, I slumped back against the wall. No matter that he had decorated his hall with a reminder of our past, Mariada was his future, and I would enter this house not as its mistress but as a slave. I could only pray that the marriage between Lukio and Mariada would enable my sweet little girl to one day be free. And if that happened, I could only be grateful for their union—I had to be.
As the women discussed the upcoming wedding ceremony, I allowed myself to drift back to my own—a shabby and hurried affair, where my father drank more than his share of wine and Medad’s family spent most of the wedding feast either snubbing me or making lewd inferences in my presence. I’d been valiant in keeping tears from rolling down my face that day but not in restraining the foolish wish that somehow Lukio would return right then and rescue me nor the impossible wish that it could be in the circle of his arms I would awake after my wedding night. But then, as now, dreams of the two of us as husband and wife were no more tangible than a spring breeze.
Teitu returned and with him another five servants, all carrying an assortment of dishes, baskets, and platters laden with delicacies: olives of every color, honeyed bread, cheeses, fruit, and fresh cuts of fish slathered in fragrant herbs. None of which I would be allowed to partake of.
I noticed that two of the servant girls who delivered the meal were disabled in some way. One had a visible limp as she entered with a large basket of fresh bread and the other had only two fingers on one of her hands. Again, I wondered about Teitu’s eye, whether it was an injury he’d sustained as a slave or whether it came from some distant lifetime before he came to Ashdod.
How many of Lukio’s servants were afflicted by conditions that would make them far less desirable than other household workers? A warm rush of affection came over me. It seemed that the boy who tended wounded animals in the forest and secretly delivered goods to ill townspeople had not changed so much after all.
“My master is most apologetic,” said Lukio’s manservant, “but the situation he is attending has become more complicated. He asks that you begin your meal without him, and he will come as soon as he can.”
“Oh, I do hope all is well,” said Savina.
“Of course, my lady,” Teitu replied with a bland smile. “It is a delicate matter with one of the female servants who was being . . . mistreated by one of the male cooks.”
“The girl isn’t injured, is she?” asked Mariada, concern in her blue eyes.
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“Minimally,” said Teitu. “Mostly frightened. But our master is determined to ensure justice is done.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said my mistress with a sincere expression. “No one should be ill used, no matter their position.” A swell of pride for the girl I served rose up in me. Yes, she would be a worthy bride for Lukio and mother to his children, no matter how much it gutted me to admit it.
“However . . .” Teitu paused. “The young woman is quite distraught. Might your maid be willing to tend to her while the master finishes dealing with the perpetrator? Everyone else is busy with their duties.”
Teitu’s gaze flashed to meet mine, and this time I understood his message as if he’d spoken it aloud.
“Of course,” said Mariada. “There is no better person to comfort her than Shoshana.”
Teitu bobbed his chin in a gesture of gratitude. “Then it is even more appreciated. Please, in the meantime, enjoy your meal. The master will be with you as soon as he can.” Then, without a word, he turned and headed for the door. Even if I hadn’t understood that Teitu had some underhanded motive, I had no choice but to follow, since my mistress had offered my help. I padded from the room behind him, curiosity buzzing in my bones.
He led me out of the hall and through a number of smaller chambers, each one more richly appointed than the last, before walking into a large chamber wherein sat a kingly bed, its stand crafted from cedar wood and legs carved into lions’ paws, adorned with fine-woven linen and pillows dyed with the costliest Phoenician purple. A flush heated my cheeks as I thought of Jasara’s teasing of Mariada about this very bed, and I swallowed hard against the rush of envy that bubbled to the surface.
“Can you find your way back?” Teitu asked, startling me when he came to a stop before a curtained archway.
“I think so. But where is the servant girl?”
His smile was rueful, but a spark of mischief lurked in his one eye as he pulled back the curtain to reveal a set of stairs secreted away at the back of Lukio’s bedchamber.
With an arch of my brow to question whatever charade was being carried out here, I leaned forward to catch a glimpse at what lay beyond. Sunlight spilled down the steps, beckoning me forward.
“He’s waiting for you,” said Teitu. The hushed statement dispelled any notion that I’d been summoned to help a servant. The pull to ascend the stairs was unquestionable, but I also sensed that the coming conversation was linked to Teitu’s earlier sadness. I’d not seen Zevi or the dog anywhere. Had something happened to the boy?
Curiosity claimed victory over trepidation, however, so I stepped beyond the curtain and placed my foot on the first step.
“I meant what I said,” Teitu murmured. “I will always watch over him. I owe him my life.”
Before I could respond, he was gone, the curtain behind me fluttering with the breeze of his retreat. My confusion over his parting words was soon replaced by bewilderment when I reached the top of the stairs and found myself at the edge of a lush and vibrant rooftop garden.
The space, at least twenty paces square, was enclosed by stately cedar columns on three sides but open to the sky above. Flowers of every color overflowed from pots and stone-lined beds. Tall palm bushes fanned out to provide supple shade and a large terra-cotta bath stood at the very center of the garden, afforded privacy by the prolific flowering bushes, which encompassed the area in fragrant glory.
It was a small paradise. A world unto itself in the middle of the bustling city below.
But of course, there was no young slave-girl in distress up here among the luxuriant flora. Only the green-and-brown-eyed man who’d had this perfect place created and whose simmering gaze somehow reached across the ten paces between us to steal my breath away.
With my feet nailed to the ground, I could do nothing but stare at the face I’d adored since I was nine years old. Even though there were a few more scars on his cheeks and brows, a bump near the bridge of his nose that indicated a break or two, and a dark layer of scruff on that strong jawline, it still held me hostage.
“Welcome to my sanctuary,” he said with just a hint of hesitancy, as if he were seeking my approval.
I pressed my lips together and let my gaze take in the splendor. “It reminds me of Eliora’s garden.”
Lukio flinched at my words, which obviously touched on a nerve, but then he nodded, surveying the profusion of color that he’d surrounded himself in.
I’d always enjoyed visiting the exquisite gardens his sister had tended with such care atop the mountain of Kiryat-Yearim, where she’d cultivated exotic flowers and strange varieties of fruits and vegetables that I had no name for. Plants grew in her terraced beds with such abundance that it was widely believed that Eliora’s hands were blessed by Yahweh. But Lukio’s sister maintained that it was the presence of the Ark nearby that caused such bounty. I’d always guessed it was a combination of both.
“Perhaps you are right,” he said. “This place does make me feel more at peace than anywhere else in my home.”
He went quiet, the sounds of the street below muted by the floral buffer he’d created and the smell of jasmine sweet in my nostrils. He’d asked so little about his sister since he and I had crossed paths, but it was more than evident from this place that he missed his sister deeply. For as much as I’d loved Levi and Yadon, there had always been something special between Lukio and the sister he still insisted on calling Risi, a term of deep and abiding affection.
“Why am I here, Lukio?”
“I had to speak with you.”
“Why didn’t you just leave me a shell? I could’ve met you tonight. This ruse is dangerous. If Mariada or the others find out—”
“There’s not enough time,” he said, cutting off my worries. “I have far too much still left to organize before the festival, so I cannot visit the palace this evening. But I had to speak with you. I must tell you our plan.”
My breath hitched painfully in my chest. “You can’t mean—Lukio, what are you thinking? It’s not time—”
“We have a way for you to escape, and the babe as well.”
My mouth went dry as unbidden hope welled up. But I ruthlessly pressed it away, determined not to lose my equilibrium over vain wishes. “You’ve spoken to our mutual friend about this? About my daughter?”
“Yes. And you can rest assured that he would never reveal either one of you.”
“How do you know that?”
His eyes dropped to the ground for a moment, but then he stared at me with a pointedly firm gaze. “Trust me. He is an honorable man, one with his own family that he loves dearly. He understands how important your child is to you.”
Something told me there was more to the story, but I nodded, granting him my confidence. “Tell me more.”
“This will take coordination. Not only from those we’re setting in place, but from your friends inside the palace. And it must happen during the festival.”
“But that’s in three days! It’s impossible.”
“It’s entirely possible. And necessary.”
There was an edge to the word that raised the hair on the back of my neck. “What do you mean?”
“I have reason to believe that my cousin Mataro knows about you—both your connection to me, and your child.”
Blood rushed to my temples, pounding in cadence with my galloping heart. “What will he do?”
“He insinuated that he would reveal all should I not allow him to control me like he did in the past. But do not worry, Shoshana. I’ve thrown him off the scent for now. And this plan will work. You and the little one will be on your way to Kiryat-Yearim within two days’ time. As long as your friends are willing to help.”
Fear collided with elation, the hope so powerful it was almost too painful to bear. Would I actually hold my daughter in my arms two days from now? My mind immediately spun all my implausible dreams into visions of what might be possible.
“Shoshana,” he pressed. “Will they help?”
“Of course,” I choked out. “What do you have planned?”
He laid out the entire scheme for me, one that depended not only upon our cooperation but Galit’s position in the kitchen, Avel’s skill with certain herbs, and a diversion by Oshai in the stables. After he’d described my own part, which involved little more than a well-timed bout of faintness brought on by too much sun during the first of Lukio’s fighting matches, I was in awe.
He and our mutual friend had devised a plot that very well might work, one that meant freedom for not only my daughter and me, but Zevi as well. It seemed that he was all alone in this world, but I was confident that the people of Kiryat-Yearim would find a place for him.
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” I peered up at him in awe.
“You know me, Tesi. I don’t even roll dice without making certain that the odds are in my favor.”
The warm affection in his tone, and the use of his nickname for me, caused something to thump unevenly inside my chest. But then I realized that he’d left out a key detail as he’d explained the scheme he’d concocted.
“And what of you?”
“What about me?”
“What happens if things do not go the way you plan? If you are caught helping a group of Hebrews escape? Kidnapping a baby everyone thinks is Tela’s? You could lose all of this.” I gestured to the lovely garden around us and the palatial abode at my back.
He shrugged, as if none of it mattered.
I blinked at him in astonishment. “The king of Ashdod is anything but merciful. He could very well take your life.”
“He won’t,” he said, with brash confidence. But then his gaze grew more potent. “But you are worth the risk, Tesi.”
Tears stung the back of my eyes, blurring his visage before me. He took a few steps closer. “I should always have fought for you.”
I could do nothing but stare at him in bewilderment.
“I should never have walked away to let my friend face a difficult road alone. Nor should it have taken me so long to put aside my selfishness in order to get you and your daughter out of this place.”
Between the Wild Branches Page 22
