An Echo in the Darkness(161)

Be still and know that I am God, said the Spirit within Hadassah. And so she obeyed, waiting upon him while laying her hopes bare.

Hadassah heard a servant open the front door and greet Marcus. Her senses quickened. He had left the house after seeing Julia and been away all evening. As he walked through the antechamber, she saw him glance her way and stop. She sat back against the wall of the small alcove, her heart beating rapidly.

Unclasping the gold brooch at his shoulder, Marcus let the servant remove his cloak. As he entered the peristyle, Hadassah rose. “Please sit,” he said and took the other side of the curved marble bench. He leaned back with a sigh, his hand over his side.

Hadassah studied his pale, weary face. “Your wound—”

“Is fine,” he said curtly. “Iulius changed the dressing before I left.”

“You must allow yourself time to heal, my lord.”

“I am not a man accustomed to sitting around for long.”

“So I see.”

He heard the softening in her tone and smiled. He glanced around the small alcove remembering how often he had sat here with Hadassah. She had often come here in the late evening or early morning to pray.

“Thank you for seeing Julia,” Hadassah said.

Drawing back to the present, he looked at Azar. “The visit didn’t go very well,” he said wryly. He found it strange that he felt so comfortable with a woman he scarcely knew. She intrigued him more each time he saw her.

“It’s a beginning.”

“Implying I should continue.” His mouth curved sardonically. “I’m not sure I want to repeat the experience.” His emotions had been raw all evening. He kept seeing Julia’s face, white and strained, eyes pleading for something he didn’t feel he could ever give. “It might be better if I left her alone.”

“Better for whom?”

“You are direct, aren’t you?” he said dryly. “Better for both of us. Some memories are best left buried.”

Hadassah understood only too well. She had had to set her mind from the beginning to lay aside some of the things Julia had done to her and others. It hadn’t been easy. Even while leaning on the Lord, there had been moments of great struggle. Yet sometimes, when she least expected it, Julia would surprise her with sweetness. Marcus needed to see that and be reminded.

“What was your sister like as a child?”

Marcus smiled bitterly. “Adorable.”

“Tell me about her.”

He did, drawing from their early life in Rome, of her spontaneity and hunger for life, her quick laughter and high spirits. As he talked, his sadness deepened, for he had loved his sister then, loved her with a fierce protectiveness and pride.

“And then she met Calabah,” he said. “Olympia introduced them. I knew of Calabah long before Julia met her. She was well known in Rome. Rumors abounded that she murdered her husband, but nothing was ever substantiated. She had friends in high places. Julia wasn’t the first to be corrupted by her influence, nor will she be the last.”

“Do you think Julia’s corruption was all Calabah’s doing?” Hadassah said softly.

He looked at her, sensing a subtle challenge. Conceding, he let out his breath and put his head back again. “I had part in it,” he confessed.

“What part, my lord?”

“I introduced Julia to the games, much to my father’s displeasure. I think he would’ve been happy to keep Julia from the world. Looking back now, perhaps he was right after all. Some come to realize the depravity of what they see and turn away from it. Others become seared, numb to the suffering of others. They need more and more excitement to satisfy them, until nothing satisfies. Julia is like that.”

“You no longer attend the games?”

“I haven’t in a long, long time. I lost my taste for them rather suddenly.” Just as he had lost the taste for other things he had once found desirable.

What might life have been had Hadassah lived? He shared her faith now. . . .

But if she had lived, you never would have gone on your quest to find God.

The sudden thought disturbed him.

“You look perplexed, my lord.”

“Many things have changed within me since I went to Galilee.”

“Galilee, my lord?”

He laughed. “You’re surprised. It’s understandable. Everyone thought I was mad. Why would a Roman go willingly to Palestine.” His smile fell. “I had my reasons. I sailed to Caesarea Maritima, then rode to Jerusalem. What a city of death that place is. I didn’t stay long. I spent some weeks in Jericho with a Jewish family and then traveled on to Nain.” He smiled in fond amusement, remembering old Deborah.