An Echo in the Darkness(41)

Sickened at having to watch him eat, Julia strove for control of her roiling emotions. “Sailing where, Primus?” she said with measured calm. “Rhodes? Corinth?”

He filled his mouth with another teat and dabbed his greasy fingers on a fold of his toga. “To Judea,” he said around the food.

“Judea!”

He swallowed and licked his full lips. “Yes, to Judea, homeland of his little Jewess. And it would seem he plans on staying for a long, long time.”

“How would you know how long he’s planning to stay?”

“Deduction. I learned Marcus sold his interests in Rome, except for your family’s villa, which he has given over to your mother’s disposal. Do you know what she did? She sent word to have the property rented and the proceeds used as an alimenta for the poor of the district. Can you imagine all that money going to feed the ragged unwashed? What a waste! It would’ve been put to better purpose replenishing our dwindling coffers.”

“My coffers.”

“As you wish. Your coffers,” he said with a shrug and dipped a strip of ostrich tongue in spiced honey sauce. Little did his Julia realize, he thought smugly, that most of her money had already been filtered into his own hands and secreted away for the future. And it was all done without her being aware. Her illness had helped him in the process; she was so obsessed with her various ailments that she paid little attention to her financial situation. She trusted her agents to protect her.

Amazing the power a bribe can give one, he thought, smiling to himself. And a little knowledge that could prove embarrassing should it come to light.

But her agent had sent word to him this morning that she was demanding a full accounting be done. Primus had known he had better give Julia something else to occupy her mind besides the condition of her estate.

To that end, he went on, weaving his web. “Giving away all that money,” he said again and shook his head. “It’s unimaginable. Unless . . . Do you suppose your mother was corrupted by that little Jewess of yours and has become a Christian?”

Julia winced inwardly at the suggestion. Her mother, a Christian? If that were so, she knew another door was closed against her.

Primus saw her expression alter subtly and knew he was cutting into her little by little, deeper and deeper. He wanted to lay her wide open and let carrion birds feast upon her flesh. “As for your brother’s interests here in Ephesus, the ships and warehouses, he has put them under the management of trusted servants of your father. He has put everything he owns into the hands of two stewards, Orestes and Silas.”

He chewed the expensive delicacy and, with a grimace, spit it onto a platter. He poured himself Falernian wine, the finest from Capua, and swished some around in his mouth to wash away the taste. He swallowed and continued. “It all suggests your brother has no plans to return any time soon, if ever. I suppose he’s making a pilgrimage to the memory of his beloved, departed Hadassah.” Lifting the gold goblet in a toast, he taunted Julia with a smile. “May his departure bring you a respite from your guilt, my dear,” he said, savoring her torment. He relished the pain he saw in her eyes. His news had hurt her deeply. She could no longer hide it.

Julia left the triclinium. When she reached her bedchamber, she sank down on the divan and took the small scroll from the folds of her shimmering tunic. Trembling all over, she fingered the seal. It was firmly in place. Her eyes blurred with tears. Marcus probably hadn’t even touched the epistle.

Judea! Why would he go so far and to such a terrible place unless Primus was right and it had something to do with that wretched slave girl?

She drew in a ragged breath. Why couldn’t he forget Hadassah? Why couldn’t he forget what had happened? She bit her lip, wanting to cry out in anguish. But to whom? No one cared what happened to her.

Had she known what would happen, she wouldn’t have done what she did. Why couldn’t Marcus forgive her? She was his sister, his own flesh and blood. Didn’t he know how much she had always loved him, how much she loved him still? She had only wanted things to be the way they were when they were children, when it had seemed as though they were together against the world. Had he forgotten how close they were, how they could talk to one another about everything? She had never trusted anyone the way she had trusted him.

Except for Hadassah, a small voice whispered inside her.

The unwelcome thought lanced her with pain. She shut her eyes, willing herself to obliterate the memories that swept over her . . . memories of what it had been like to be loved, really loved. “No. No. I won’t think of her. I won’t!”