An Echo in the Darkness(30)

She had seen Marcus!

He had bumped right into her on the street outside. She had been jostled so often in the crowds heading for the baths that she thought nothing of it. Then he had spoken. Stunned at the sound of his voice, she had glanced up and saw it was him, and not just her memory playing tricks on her again.

He was still devastatingly handsome, though he looked somehow older and harder. The mouth she had remembered as enticingly sensuous had been set in a grim line. Her heart had beaten so fast . . . just as it raced now with her remembering. When he had caught her arm to steady her, she had almost fainted.

Amazing how more than a year could be wiped away in an instant. She had looked into Marcus’ eyes, and every moment she had spent with him had come back to her in a wave of longing. She had almost reached up to touch his face, but he had drawn back slightly, the same wariness on his face that she saw so often when people looked at her. A woman covered in veils was a disconcerting sight. Tilting his head, he had stared down at her with a bemused frown. Even knowing he couldn’t do so, she had been instinctively afraid he might see her scarred face and lowered her head quickly. In that moment, he had turned away.

She had stood there in the middle of the milling crowd, tears filling her eyes as she watched him walk away. He was walking out of her life as he had before.

Now, sitting in the security of Alexander’s booth, Hadassah wondered if Marcus Lucianus Valerian even remembered her.

“Lord, why did you allow this to happen to me?” she whispered into the stillness of the dimly lit booth. She stared through her tears and veils at the burning coals in the brazier, all the love she had felt for Marcus welling up again and filling her with an aching sadness for what might have been. “I feel yoked to him, Lord,” she went on softly, beating her breast softly with her fist. “Yoked . . .”

She lowered her head.

She knew it hadn’t been Marcus’ habit to enter the public baths. He had always bathed at exclusive establishments reserved for those who could pay high membership fees.

So why had he come?

She sighed. What did it matter? God had removed her from his life and placed her here, in this tiny booth, with a young physician hungry to save the world from everything. Everything, that is, but spiritual darkness. He was like Julia’s first husband, Claudius, insatiable for knowledge while remaining blind to wisdom.

Her heart ached. Why didn’t you let me die, Lord? Why? She wept silently, crying out to God for an answer. No answer came. She had thought she knew God’s purpose for her: to die for him. And yet she was alive, bearing her secret scars beneath the dark veils. All the serenity and acceptance she had found over the past year was shattered. And why? Because she had seen Marcus again. A chance encounter that had lasted less than a minute.

The screen moved, and Alexander entered the room. Hadassah glanced up at him, relieved by his presence. His face had become dear to her over the months of her convalescence. She had been too ill then, and in too much pain, to realize the sacrifice he had made in smuggling her out of the arena. Not until later did she learn that he had forfeited his position with a renowned master physician and gained the scorn of many of his friends for throwing so much away over a mere slave.

Hadassah knew without a doubt that God had had his hand on Alexander that day in the shadows of the Door of Death. He had been God’s instrument. As she watched him now, she admitted that her feelings for him were sometimes very confusing. She was grateful, but there was more to it than that. She liked him and admired him. His desire to heal was heartfelt, not a matter of expedience or profit. He cared, even to the point of grief, when he lost a patient. She remembered the first time she had seen him weep—it had been over a young boy who died of a fever—and she had felt love for Alexander wash over her. She knew she did not love this man the way she still loved Marcus . . . yet she could not deny that they were deeply connected.

He looked at her, and their eyes met. A tired smile crossed his face. “Heat some more water, Hadassah,” he said.

“Yes, my lord.”

She did so, then watched as he added various ingredients to it and then hunkered down and awakened Celsus. “Come, sit up my friend,” he said, and Hadassah was moved by the note of compassion in Alexander’s voice. He held the brew to Celsus’ lips. At the first sip, Celsus grimaced and drew back from it suspiciously. Alexander laughed. “No bats’ wings or lizard tongues in it,” he said, and Hadassah was left wondering what he meant as Celsus took the cup and swallowed the contents.

Alexander rose. “I’ve hired a litter to take you home.”