An Echo in the Darkness(126)

Why am I back here, Lord? Didn’t you rescue me from this life and this woman? Why am I here again? Was I wrong in what you asked of me?

But she knew the answers to her questions before asking him. He had said it over and over. He had lived it. Hadn’t her path been set long ago before she had ever met Julia Valerian? God’s will be done, whatever it might be. At this moment, in this place, it was a frightening prospect.

Trust me, the still small voice seemed to say over and over. Trust me.

Her hand shook as she put it on the gate latch. Her mind filled with the image of Julia’s face, twisted grotesquely in hate. She remembered the blows of her mistress’s fists and her screams of rage. She remembered being kicked until she lost consciousness. And when she roused again, she had found herself in a dungeon with other Christians, awaiting death.

O Lord, if you would but take this bitter cup from me. . . .

Her fingers whitened on the latch but didn’t open it. She could hardly breathe.

“Is this the place, Rapha?” The servant who had carried her few things moved closer to her. He glanced up at the stone facade above.

Hadassah shuddered slightly, remembering all the vile things she had witnessed in this house. She looked up again. She could change her mind. Even now, if she chose, she could go back to Alexander. God would forgive her.

Wasn’t I doing your will there, Lord? Couldn’t I remain with him and help the sick?

But as she stared up at the cold stone villa, she knew God had sent her here. Turning away from Julia Valerian now would mean turning away from the Lord, and without him life had no meaning.

Yes, she remembered the dungeon, cold, dank, fetid. Wasn’t it there in the darkness that she had truly seen the Light and been warmed by it? Wasn’t it there she had found the peace God had always promised her? Wasn’t it there that God had truly set her free?

“Rapha?” the servant said, questioning. “Do you want to go back?”

“No. This is the place,” she said and opened the gate. Leaning heavily on her walking stick, she went up the steps ahead of him. Her bad leg was aching terribly by the time she reached the door. She took a deep breath and applied the knocker.

No one answered.

“No one is home, Rapha,” the servant said, relieved.

Hadassah knocked again, more loudly, and listened for movement within the house.

Silence.

“I will recall the litter.” He turned back, stepping down to the step below her. Shifting his burdens, he held his hand out to support her.

“No. I must go in.” She was concerned by the lack of response within the villa. Where were Julia’s servants? She lifted the latch and pushed. It gave easily, and the door swung open.

“Rapha, no,” the servant said, frightened.

Ignoring him, she entered the antechamber and looked around her. “Leave the things by the door.”

“But I can’t leave you here—”

“Leave them and go. I will be fine.”

He stood nervously, looking around. The place had a deserted air about it. Obeying reluctantly, he closed the door behind him and shut her into the silent house.

The tap of her walking stick on the marble tiles echoed into the peristyle. The fountain was still, the water stagnant. She looked into the triclinium and saw faded cushions and a dusty table. The marble statuary was gone, though the east wall was still emblazoned with a mosaic of Bacchus cavorting with some wood nymphs.

Turning away, Hadassah limped to the stairs leading to the upper chambers. When she reached the top, she paused to rest. The pain in her leg was so intense she trembled. She listened again but still heard no one. After a moment the pain eased, and she continued down the open corridor to Julia’s chamber.

The door was open.

Her heart fluttered so fast within her breast, it felt like a bird frantic to escape. Standing on the threshold, Hadassah looked in.

Julia was not in the bed.

Hadassah entered the room and saw it was in disarray. It smelled strongly of an unemptied slops basin. Looking out on the balcony, Hadassah saw Julia. She was alone and dressed in a threadbare ankle-length tunic. A breeze molded the tunic to her waif-thin body. She clutched the wall as though for support, and her face was turned toward the eastern hills. Her expression was so utterly forlorn, Hadassah wondered if she was thinking of Atretes. He had once built a beautiful villa for her in those hills, intending to take her there as his wife.

Hadassah remained where she was watching Julia intently, wondering if she was the same or if circumstances had changed her. Julia lowered her head, and the light breeze stirred the dull tendrils of dark hair about her face and shoulders. She looked like a hurt child. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself. As she turned away, she saw Hadassah in her veils and started in fright.