Rap. Rap. Rap.
He slammed his fist on the table and rose. Throwing open the door, he glared down at her again. “What do you want, old woman? Tell me and then leave me in peace.”
“Why are you here?” she said with dogged patience.
“That’s my business.”
“This is my village. I was born here eighty-seven years ago. And this house belonged to a man I knew and respected.” She looked him in the eyes. “I don’t know you.”
Marcus was stunned by her audacity. “This wretched country belongs to Rome! I can take what I want, and I want this house.” Even as he spoke, he heard the arrogance ringing out in every word that came from his lips. His eyes fell away from hers. “Just go away,” he rasped and started to shut the door.
She lifted her walking stick and hit the door with the end of it. “I won’t go away until I have an answer that satisfies me. Why are you here?”
Weary, Marcus considered her for a long moment, trying to think of an answer that would satisfy her and send her on her way. He could think of none. How could he? He wasn’t even sure why he was here anymore. The emptiness of the house crushed his spirit.
“I don’t know,” he said bleakly. “Satisfied?” He turned away and went back into the house. Hearing the scrape of her walking stick, he turned and saw she had followed him inside. “I didn’t invite you in,” he said coldly.
“The same one who invited you in, invited me,” she said testily and planted herself several feet inside the door.
Sighing heavily, he ran his hand through his hair and sank down at the table again. He said nothing more. She was silent so long, he glanced up. She was looking slowly around the room.
“I haven’t been in this house since they left,” she said and looked up at the light coming through the roof. She shook her head sadly. “Hananiah would have repaired those breaks.” She looked at him again and waited.
Marcus met her steady gaze in obstinate silence.
“I already know the answer to my question,” the old woman said finally. “You’re here because of Hadassah. What happened to her?”
“If I tell you, will you go away?” he said dryly.
“I might.”
“She was murdered. In an Ephesian arena.”
The old woman came closer. “Why should the death of one more Jew matter so much to a Roman?”
His eyes flashed. “She was a handmaiden in my father’s house.”
“And for that reason alone, you travel so many miles to see where she lived?” She smiled.
Unable to bear her scrutiny, Marcus rose and walked to the window. Sighing, he stared up at the hot, blue sky. “It’s a private matter, old woman.”
“Not so private that the whole village doesn’t know of it.”
He turned. “What do they know?”
“That a Roman came looking for the home of Hadassah. And, now that he’s found it, he’s closed himself up in it as one would close himself up in a tomb.”
Stiffening, he stared at her in anger. “What matter my reasons to anyone? Let them go about their own business, and leave me to mine.”
“My legs grow tired. Ask me to sit.”
“I’d rather ask you to leave!”
Sighing wearily, she leaned more heavily on the walking stick. “I suppose I must suffer your inhospitality.”
Marcus’ only reply was a rude snort.
“Of course, it would be too much to expect even a small act of kindness from a Roman.”
“Oh, very well! Sit! And after you’ve rested, go.”
“Thank you,” she said, a glimmer of humor lighting her expression. “How can I resist such a gracious invitation?” She eased herself onto the stool. She was silent for a long time, studying him. He grew uncomfortable.
“Is this your Jerusalem, Roman?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is Nain your holy city? Are you here on a pilgrimage to honor a slave you loved?”
Her question dissolved his anger and roused anew his grief. He sat heavily on the bench beneath the window. Struggling against the emotions surging up in him, he leaned back against the wall. “Why don’t you leave me in peace, old woman?”
“What peace will you find here in this house? The peace of death?”
He closed his eyes. “Leave.”
She remained, rooted to the stool. “How long since you’ve eaten?”
He gave a bleak laugh. “I don’t remember.”
She rose with difficulty. “Come with me. I’ll give you something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I am. Come with me and we will talk about why you’re here.”