An Echo in the Darkness(167)

“And is coming,” Julia said with a weary sigh. “I understand what you’re saying, Azar. I am the mouse.”

“My lady . . . ,” Azar said, her voice full of hope.

“No. Please, listen. It’s a good thing to know there will be justice someday. But don’t you see? Justice is being served now. Whether I acknowledge God or not doesn’t matter, Azar. My fate is fixed.”

“No, Julia . . .”

“It’s too late for me. Don’t speak of the Lord anymore,” Julia said bleakly. “It only hurts to hear of him.”

“He can remove your pain.”

“The pain will stop when I die.”

“You needn’t die.”

“Oh yes. I need to die. You don’t know the things I’ve done, Azar. Unforgivable things. Marcus used to tell me everything costs something. He was right.”

Marcus shut his eyes, pierced by the utter hopelessness in Julia’s voice. He had wanted to punish her—and so he had. Now he heard her anguish, and it echoed inside him. Did he want his sister to die? He had accepted Christ. He was saved. He had hope. What did she have?

What had he left her?

Oh God, forgive me! Even as he prayed, he knew God was there . . . and he knew what he needed to do. Marcus entered the room quietly, unnoticed, but as he came closer, Azar lifted her head. Julia’s face was turned away. Azar let go of Julia’s hand and took up her walking stick and stood, drawing back for him to take her place. “Please don’t go,” Julia said, turning her head. Then she saw Marcus.

He took the seat Azar left vacant for him. Julia’s eyes were dull and lifeless, utterly resigned to whatever came. He took her hand. “Julia, I was wrong,” he said huskily.

Her mouth curved sadly. “No you weren’t.”

“I said things in anger. . . .”

“You have every right to be angry with me,” she said. “But let’s not talk of it ever again. I can’t talk about it.”

He held her hand to his lips. “I’m sorry, little one,” he said, full of regret. He felt Azar’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and his eyes filled with tears.

Julia curled her fingers around his. “Do you remember when I had the abortion, the first one in Rome? Calabah said it would be so easy, that once the problem of my pregnancy was over everything would be fine again. It never was.” She looked up bleakly at the ceiling. “Sometimes I find myself counting back and thinking how old that child would be today. I wonder if it was a boy or a girl.” She blinked back the tears.

She swallowed convulsively and her fingers tightened in Marcus’ hand, clinging to him. “I killed my baby. As I killed Caius.”

“What?” Marcus said softly, stunned.

“I murdered him. Calabah gave me the poison, and I gave it to him in small doses so his death would seem natural.” She looked at her brother with haunted eyes. “But he knew what I was doing at the end. I could tell by the way he looked at me. It didn’t bother me until then, Marcus. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

She shook her head against her pillows, eyes tormented. “I kept telling myself it was justice. He was unfaithful to me with other women, not once but many times. He was cruel and evil. Do you remember when you came to me and asked if I’d slept with the Greek who owned the horses? I did. I did it to pay his debts. But mostly, I did it to pay Caius back for hurting me. He beat me for it. He would’ve beaten me to death if . . .” She closed her eyes, remembering how Hadassah had covered her and taken the blows.

Marcus could see the rapid pulse in her throat. Her skin was white and beaded with perspiration. “It’s all right, Julia. Go on.”

“She covered me.” Her eyes welled with tears that spilled over. “She covered me,” she whispered, amazed, as though she had just remembered the incident that had happened so long ago. Her face convulsed, and she looked away and said very quietly, “Did you know I told Hadassah to put Atretes’ baby on the rocks here in Ephesus?”

She turned her head back again and searched his face. “You didn’t, did you? I’m full of terrible secrets, aren’t I? I loved him so much, and he hated me because I married Primus. I wished I hadn’t, but there was nothing I could do. Calabah made such terrible sense, but Atretes wouldn’t listen. When he turned from me, I wanted to hurt him, too, and I used my own child to do it. I used my own child. . . .”

Marcus put his hand on her hair. “Hadassah wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“She told me my baby was a boy, a perfect baby boy, and I commanded her—”