A Stray Drop of Blood (15 page)

~*~

It was hours later when Jason finally gave her leave to return to her own room, and she went with weak limbs and a bruised soul. She was exhausted, but what was more, she felt broken. As though she was no longer the self that she knew, no longer the Abigail that deserved even a morsel of love from those dearest her.

As she moved silently into her little chamber and slipped onto her pallet, hard now in comparison to the bed she had just occupied, but blessedly familiar, she felt the thread of bitterness that had been overshadowed by her mistress’s faith surge to life again, squeezing her being in a vice of affliction.

“
Jehovah,” she whispered fiercely into the darkness as the tears flooded her eyes as the Nile did the plains, “why must you submit me to this? What have I done, what have I not done, that I deserve to be used so? Why does your supreme will see fit that your maidservant be forced to such a pass?”

No answer penetrated the darkness, and she had expected none. The Lord did not speak to those too weak to stand up for him. He did not deign to respond to those who obeyed men before him.

But it was he who had placed her in this home. It was he who had given her the face, the figure that had drawn the young master. It was he who instructed his servant’s servants to obey their masters, who gave to men that inescapable right over women.

Unbidden, the story of Lot came into her mind, and the depravity of his city of choice. When the angels, the very messengers of God had visited him and the mobs had come knocking at his door to demand they be turned over for their carnal pleasure, Lot’s response had been quick. “I have two virgin daughters–do with them what you want, but leave these men alone!”

“
A noble defense indeed.” Pain hardening into anger, she directed her mutter into her single pillow. “That one would sacrifice one’s daughters was acceptable, even laudable. Certainly, he offered it to the salvation of the heavenly creatures, but what of his daughters? What of your daughters, Lord? Did you create us just to provide for the lusts of man?”

The answer seemed obvious, and the weight of the realization forced her breath out in a sigh. She closed her eyes, ignored the aches coursing through her lower body, and pushed herself resolutely into sleep.

Chapter Ten

Andrew’s fears of one day were not assuaged the next by the circles he saw under Abigail’s eyes. When he entered the kitchen she stood alone, going about her daily chores as absently as ever. But he did not like the exhaustion he saw on her face or the shuttered eyes she turned on him when he entered. It had been many years since she had looked at him with such lack of feeling, many years since he had seen that hollow spot within her. Looking at her now, he knew fear.

“
Abigail.” He moved to her side. She did not stop working at his approach, but he interrupted with a finger to lift her chin up, forcing her eyes to follow. He longed to be able to gather her into his arms, to kiss away the worry as he would hopefully soon have the right to do. Instead, he lowered his hand again, slightly reassured when he saw a flicker of familiar warmth in her eyes. “What is wrong, my friend? You look unwell.”

Her lips turned up slightly. “Do not be concerned. It is just a lack of sleep.”

“
And what had caused such a lack? Is there something on your mind?”

She sighed, hands still. “There is much on my mind, Andrew. Too much to articulate, because so little amounts to anything on its own. You already know of my concerns.”

A few knots loosened in his shoulders. “I did not realize, though, that your concerns would be so manifested. Perhaps you should speak with our mistress of your thoughts, let her know you do not wish a marriage that would take you away from her.”

Abigail blushed and shook her head. “I cannot. I cannot broach such a thing myself. But if she asks, Andrew, I will tell her honestly of my desires.”

He nodded, knowing that was all he could ask. “Our lady loves you, my friend. She will not be unfair.”

Abigail opened her mouth as if to respond, but just closed it again and smiled a bit more genuinely. She turned back to her work.

Andrew did not interrupt her again, but rather grabbed some breakfast for himself before moving down the hall to assist his master.

~*~

Abigail went through her day as she always did, putting one foot in front of the other, one hand over another, to complete her tasks. She was relieved when Ester bade her take up the lyre and sing, a task that required little physical effort.

But as her lips formed the words of the psalms she had known all of her life, her thoughts drifted of their own accord to the shepherd-king who had written them. David, the man said to be after God’s own heart, yet who sinned again and again against the Lord. Why was he blessed? What was it about that ancient man’s soul that made him worthy of a promise, a title, that no other ever received?

Abigail did not know. Indeed, she could not begin to understand the man he must have been. But in thinking of it, she thought as she often did of the woman after whom she was named. Abigail, first the wife of a man so foolish Jehovah himself struck him dead. Abigail, third wife to David, who received that honor because of wisdom and the courage to speak it.

Humbled, this Abigail’s fingers strummed the lyre absently. She, too, had tried to warn her master of his sin, but he, unlike David, would not obey. Was she then blameworthy or excused for her actions? Unbidden, her mind wandered to another of David’s wives, one far more notorious. Had Bathsheba consented to being taken to the chamber of her king, or had she felt herself helpless? Did she realize as she took that fateful step how her life would change? She lost her husband, her family, even her first child.

But she had been the mother of Solomon. And David had favored her as a queen. She had his love, and she had the touch of God.

Her fingers stilled, and her eyes stuck on nothingness before her. Could her God use this situation for good? If she repented of any sin and put her trust in Jehovah, would she be blessed in spite of this cursed existence?

If, then yes, perhaps. But that if. . . . She mustered up her soul, calling forth all the faith she had. A miserly amount indeed. For too long, she had been living on Ester’s belief, on habit, on rote. She knew all the words, but they were empty in her being. She knew the Law, but she did not believe it could be upheld. She knew her God was One and All, that she was one of his children, and she wanted only to escape from his gaze and be free.

Even the thought of freedom reminded her of her chains. Her eyes refocused and moved to Ester, who slept peacefully upon her couch. Emotion flooded Abigail’s heart. To Ester, she was not bound by slavery, but by love. It was to God she was a slave, because of his will that she was brought to such ruin. Ester had always loved her, always provided, always cherished.

But Ester, when all was said and done, was only a woman. She held no power in her hands.

~*~

Jason neared the edge of the market, eyes seeking out familiar forms. It took little effort to spot Titus and Menelaus in their brilliant red capes and arrogant expressions. He approached them with a grin . . . and perhaps a bit of a swagger, given the way their brows arched. “Where are the others?”

“
Unable to join us.” Menelaus folded his arms over his chest, amusement evident. “So. The slave girl? Or did you find another?”

Though he arched a brow, he knew his mirth would be clear. “I know not of what you speak, my friend.”

Titus choked down a laugh. “How stupid do you think us? No man saunters around like that unless he has come from the bed of a beautiful woman. Come now, you would not dare hold back from us, would you? After I shared my women, my house–”

Jason cut him off with a playful shove in the shoulder and motioned with his head toward the markets. “My mother’s slave,” he admitted after a few steps. “And there will be no sharing, so do not even ask. Abigail would probably die of shame if another ever approached her. She is the paradigm of modesty, my friends, and purity. You will all writhe in envy when you see what I have taken for myself.”

“
And when will that be? When do I get to see this symbol of beauty? Until my own eyes behold this girl you speak of, I will not believe she is so perfect.”

Jason chuckled and slapped a hand to Menelaus’s shoulder. “You will believe. I spoke with my mother this morning, actually. You are both invited to dine with us tomorrow evening.”

“
I cannot,” Titus said. “I have a woman of my own to meet tomorrow”

“
I will be there.” Menelaus nodded, smiled, and chuckled a bit. “Shall I invite Lentulus and Apidius?”

Jason debated a moment, then gave a lopsided smile. “Not this time. Best to introduce my parents to the beasts I call friends in small doses.”

They shared a laugh and continued their exploration through the markets. They browsed through the stalls, generally ignoring the words that the merchants spoke to try to convince them to buy their wares. The scents warred for place in their nostrils, just as the voices did in their ears. Fruits mixed with perfumes mixed with spices. Merchants mixed with haggling purchasers mixed with laughing children.

A necklace caught Jason’s eye. It was Egyptian, he could see from the colorful beading and bold lines. It would suit Abigail. He could already imagine how her skin would lend it light, how the beads would sparkle and wink at him as he slid her clothing off and kissed her. Nonchalantly, he leaned against the counter of the stall.

He tapped another necklace, one heavier, with precious stones. “How much?”

Eyeing him up, the merchant named a price ridiculously high. Jason arched a brow, smiled. He cut the price in half.

The merchant blustered. “You insult me! It is worth three times as much! I give you a bargain!”

“
Bargain! You are blind, old man. Your wares are cheap!”

“
They are not!” The man’s eyes gleamed with the bickering he undoubtedly enjoyed.

“
They are. Look at this awful craftsmanship.” Jason disgustedly flicked at the necklace of his choice. “It would fall apart with a breath. The other is probably no stronger.”

“
No, I assure you, this is the best piece I have! The others are nothing, it is true. But this one–this one is a rare piece of art.”

“
On the contrary, you are a thief.” He grinned to soften his words. “Even for that other you would try to rob me. For this one, you would have me pay with my limbs.”

“
For nothing, I charge you nothing. For something, I charge you something. It is fair.”

“
And I will be generous.” He took a coin out of his purse, put it on the table, and picked up the necklace he had just insulted. “For nothing I will give you something. Have a good afternoon.”

The merchant stood agape for a moment, then let loose a laugh as Jason sauntered away.

“
He is buying her gifts,” Titus said in a mock whisper to Menelaus once Jason was close to them again. “This is getting out of hand. Before long, he will be sighing as much as Apidius.”

Jason sent him a teasing scowl. “I have seen the way you dress your women, Titus, and yet never have I heard you sigh. Would you give me less credit than yourself?”

Titus’s grin was wicked. “Naturally. I am better with women. They fall at my feet. If I adorn them, it is to please my eyes before I feast. If you adorn them, how can I know it is not from affection? You have never had your own woman.”

Jason did not mind the poke, since he intended to return it. “And now, my friend, it is I with my own woman, and you who must borrow from the common supply. And if I choose to adorn her, it is to please my eyes before I feast. If you adorn them, it is to pay for their services so they do not cry out against you in the streets and keep their friends from taking you into their rooms.”

They shared a smile, and Jason tucked the necklace into the pouch at his belt, tallying the hours before he could hold that woman in his arms again. With any luck, she would welcome him with fresh water for his feet as she often did, and he would have a few moments in which to sate his appetite until later.

~*~

Once again Abigail stood before Jason’s door, praying her tasks in there would be innocent. Praying he would ask her only to fetch him something, or give her some task, or just dismiss her for the evening, as he had until all nights before the last. She raised her hand and knocked lightly on the door.

“
Enter.”

She did so, slipping the door closed behind her.

Jason stood from his couch with a smile when she came in and went to her, not pausing until he had pulled her into his arms and crushed his mouth against hers. Any hope of escaping another night in his bed vanished. If only she could have continued avoiding him as she done throughout the day.

“
I was waiting for you.” He murmured the words against her mouth and untied the end of her braid. His fingers ran through the locks to set them free.

“
Were you?” Her voice came out unsteady and quiet.

“
Were you not certain I would want you again? I hunger for you, Abigail. I thought of you all day. That will not change soon. If it does, if I tire of you, I will give you leave not to come. In the meantime, nights I am home, you will be with me.”