“I was there.”
Julia bit her lip and looked away again, troubled. “I’m sorry I reminded you of it. Sometimes I say things without even meaning them.”
It was surprising words like these that filled Hadassah with confusion about Julia. Was she arrogant and disdainful? Or was she sensitive? Did her abrasive manner merely serve to hide a deeper vulnerability?
Lord, help me. I used to love her like a sister. Now I dislike her so much it’s hard to stay in the same chamber with her. I sit and listen to her constant complaints and demands, and I want to scream at her about the suffering she caused me. Help me see her through your eyes, Father.
As she prayed, she began to relax again. Julia was blind and deaf to the truth. She was ignorant. Did one reprove a blind woman for her inability to see? Did one become angry with the deaf for not hearing?
Julia was a lost sheep who had dined on poisonous plants and wandered among the briars. Pursued by wolves, she had entered swift waters that swept her downstream. Like all of humanity, she hungered for what was missing from birth and sought desperately to fill the emptiness within. She had embraced Calabah’s lies, given in to Caius’ dark passions, allowed her conscience to be seared by Primus’ abominable practices, and fallen in love with Atretes, a man filled with violence and hatred. Was it any wonder she was now weighted down by her sin, even dying of it?
Compassion filled Hadassah. Her body warmed with it, and the ache in her leg eased.
“I wanted to tell you the story of Ruth because it’s about a woman who was the daughter of an incestuously begun race that embraced pagan practices. Yet she had a heart for God. She chose to leave her homeland and family and follow her mother-in-law. She said, ‘Your God will be my God.’ God blessed her greatly because of her faith, not just during her own lifetime, but down through generations. We are all blessed through her.”
Julia gave a curt laugh. “How are we all blessed through a Jewish woman who died centuries ago?”
“Ruth is named in the lineage of Jesus of Nazareth, the Savior.”
Julia’s face stiffened at the mention of his name. “I know you believe he is a god, Azar, but does that mean I must?”
Hadassah was filled with sadness at the stubbornness she saw in Julia’s expression. “No,” she said. “You will believe what you choose to believe.”
Julia yanked her blanket higher and clutched it closer. “If Jesus is a god, he’s a god with no power.” Her hands whitened on the covers. “I knew someone a long time ago who believed in him, and it did her no good at all.”
Hadassah closed her eyes and lowered her head, knowing it was of her Julia spoke. Julia didn’t sound the least bit regretful, and she found herself wondering if Alexander wasn’t right after all. She was in danger here. Maybe it was pride that had brought her to Julia and not the Lord’s calling at all. Satan was the master deceiver. She wanted to get up and walk away, to close the door behind her and forget Julia Valerian. She wanted to leave the prideful young woman to her fate. There would come a day when every knee would bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. Even Julia.
Why did you lead me here, Lord, when she has a heart of stone?
And yet, lead her he had. She wanted to deny it now and couldn’t. The sense of purpose had been too strong, too pervasive. It still was. She was the one who was weak and vacillating.
Strengthen me, Lord. Strengthen me for your purpose. I don’t know what to do about her.
She lifted her head again and saw Julia staring up at the sky, blinking back tears. “What’s wrong, my lady?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Yes,” she said, shutting her eyes tightly. She was in so much pain even a healer, who spent her life around those in pain, couldn’t imagine it.
Hadassah rose. “I’ll prepare a draught of mandragora for you.”
Julia listened to the tap of Azar’s walking stick and the slight drag of her foot. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. Azar’s presence and manner reminded her piercingly of another she had known. It was thoughts and memories of that other that plagued her now, but she knew she could never speak aloud of what she had done. As much as she longed to purge herself, she did not dare. It was useless wanting to relive the past. It was depressing to contemplate the future. Even the present was becoming increasingly unbearable.
Azar was all she had, and Azar was a Christian.
Hadassah. Oh, Hadassah! What have I done?
Julia promised herself she would never tell Azar what she had done to a slave girl who had done nothing wrong but love her. Better to die with guilt than die alone.