“You must help with Julia,” Azar said, her hand clenched against her heart. “You must help me.”
“How?”
“Forgive her.”
“I have,” he said, growing angry in self-defense. “Do you think I want my sister to burn in hell?” And then he looked away, ashamed. Hadn’t he? Up until a few hours ago, hadn’t that been exactly what he wanted?
“Forgive her again, Marcus. Forgive her again and again, no matter what she’s done to hurt you. Do it as many times as it takes for her to believe you mean it. I’ve said and done all I know, and I haven’t reached her. Perhaps God waits upon you to show her the way. Please, Marcus, show her the way.”
She started to turn away, but he clasped her wrist. “Why do you love her so much?”
“Does there have to be a reason?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus asks us to love one another as he loved us.”
“Don’t give me a commandment for an answer, Azar. It should be easier for me to love her. She’s my sister. Yet, it’s been you who has loved her. All the time, it’s been you more than anyone else.” He felt her tension and wished he could tear away the veils, but Democedes’ warning was still fresh in his mind. What of her feelings? What of Julia?
“I can’t give you answers when I haven’t any myself,” she said in a voice softly broken with emotions he knew she wanted concealed. Why? “All I know is that the first time I saw your sister, I loved her as I did my own flesh and blood. There have been moments when I wished God would relent, but he burdened me with love for Julia. And love her I will until God leads me otherwise.”
Marcus released her slowly. Turning away from him, she limped back into Julia’s bedchamber and sat down on the chair beside the bed. He came and stood behind her. She had given him a glimpse of her own struggle. He put his hands on her shoulders and felt her stiffen.
Always she pulled away from him. Why? And why did he so desperately want it otherwise? Confused, disturbed, he backed away. “Send for me when she awakens,” he said and left the room.
Julia wakened only briefly in the morning and then lapsed into a coma.
50
Ezra Barjachin came to speak with Marcus the same afternoon. While they were closeted in the bibliotheca, Alexander Democedes Amandinus arrived at Rapha’s request.
“She’s been like this all day,” Hadassah said. “The mandragora wore off hours ago.”
He lifted Julia’s eyelids and drew back. “It’s unlikely she will come out of it,” he said frankly. “It’s the final stage before death comes.”
“She can’t die, Alexander! Not yet. You must help me bring her out of this state.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. There’s nothing we can do to bring her out of it. It’s over. Finished. Everything’s been done that can be done. Let her go.”
“So she just drifts away like this?”
“Peacefully.”
Hadassah sank down on the chair and wept.
Alexander frowned heavily. For whatever crazy reason Hadassah had devoted herself to this selfish, cruel young woman, she had done it wholeheartedly. He found himself wishing that everything had gone as Hadassah had hoped.
Her tears disturbed him. For her sake, Alexander made another closer examination of Julia. She had wasted away to almost skin and bones since he had seen her last. The lesions were worse, spreading the infection throughout her body. For the first time since he had met Julia Valerian, he was moved to pity. Whatever she had been or done, she was a human being.
As he straightened, he saw the tray of untouched food. “If she awakens, don’t give her anything solid to eat. Broth or thin gruel only,” he said, unaware the tray had been brought up for Hadassah. “But I think it would be wiser not to hope.”
He took a small drug box from his case and handed it to her. She turned it in her hand, recognizing the carvings. “I still have some mandragora left,” she said, handing it back to him. He took it and clenched it in his hand. With a sigh he dropped it back into his case and set it aside.
“We must talk,” he said, putting his hand beneath her arm and drawing her firmly to her feet. When they were out on the balcony, he turned her to face him. “You have done all you can, Hadassah. You have to let her go.”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
“When?”
“When she accepts Christ—”
“If she hasn’t to this point, she never will.”
“Don’t say that!”
Alexander drew her into his arms, cupping the back of her head. “You can’t save the world, little one.”