A Stray Drop of Blood (20 page)

Abigail was still looking at him, her gaiety gone and replaced with sympathy. “I am sorry, Andrew.”

“
It is not of your doing.” Andrew sighed. “I know not why I expected otherwise. Why should I assume that he will lose interest in what I desire wholeheartedly? Is it wrong of me to hope that he does not see in you all that you are worth?”

Abigail reached over and lay soft fingers on his arm.

Andrew covered her hand with his. “Promise me one thing, beloved. I know you must serve and honor him–but promise me that you will make it end at duty, that you will not encourage him. I will be as patient as necessary, but I need to be assured that you–”

“
I will do all I can to discourage him. It will not take long, my love. Jason constantly demands an emotion I cannot give, and he will decide I am unworthy of his attentions.”

Andrew gently squeezed her fingers. The smile they shared felt intimate, but he could not help but notice that hers was tinged with guilt.

~*~

Abigail moved about Jason’s chamber, her focus on the chores she had not yet gotten to thanks to the packing for his mother. Jason had disappeared shortly after dinner, which was not unusual. She expected him back soon and determined to have his chamber neat for him.

Perhaps it would alleviate some of the disquiet her conversation with Andrew had caused her.

Arms circled her waist from behind, making her jump.

Jason’s chuckle filled her ear as he kissed her neck. “You have been busy tonight. I imagine you are tired.”

Actually, she was energized from the activity but did not dare to mention that lest he take it as an invitation to help her expel that energy.

Jason settled his hands on her shoulders and massaged them gently. “Tomorrow will be more relaxing. We will sleep late and lounge around all morning. My friends are coming for lunch, but that will not take much preparation, and I will help you.”

“
Your friends?” He must have invited them when he went out.

“
Mm.” He nudged her toward the bed, smiling when she sat down. He sat beside her, then eased her back onto the pillows. “There will be five of us. Menelaus and Titus, whom you have met, as well as Lentulus and Apidius, whom you have not yet. It has been a long while since we have all gotten to dine together.” His ran his lips over her jaw. Her eyes slid closed in uninvited pleasure. “It will be a good day, Abigail.”

For him, perhaps. But she was not looking forward to facing more of his lecherous friends.

~*~

Abigail had never in her life lain in bed so far past dawn. Her eyes would not stay closed, and she had to keep herself from tossing restlessly; but Jason had given his orders, and she knew she would disturb him if she rose.

She had listened to the hushed commotion as the others set off and had wondered at the strange pang she felt at their leaving. She would miss Ester, it was true; in the many years since she had been in this house, she had never spent a day away from her mistress. And it would be strange to go into the kitchen and know that Dinah would not bustle in at any moment, or walk around and not run into Simon or see Andrew trudging in dusty and tired after a day at his master’s side.

But today would bring its own tasks. She would have to serve a group of men she did not know and knew already she would not like. It would be far removed from the meals she was used to, with Ester and Julia or Vetimus and Phoebe and sweet little Claron.

Thoughts of the boy, and hence his miraculous recovery, reminded her again of the reason her family had left. What did they expect to hear from this teacher? What lessons could he possibly teach that would help them where the Law could not? And what was it about the rabbi that had attracted Cleopas so thoroughly that he would be willing to take time away from his busy life as prefect to make this journey?

“
How long have you been awake?”

The voice, groggy and smiling, startled her. She turned to see Jason’s deep eyes on her, a sleepy smile on his lips.

“
Since dawn. Habit.”

“
Mm.” He pulled her closer and kissed her jaw. “You are not a creature of leisure, beloved. I know many slaves would have taken advantage of the day off to sleep until noon.” He chuckled. “But I suppose we have already discussed your virtue, have we not? I forget which dialogue we sided with.”

Abigail found herself slightly amused, which caught her off guard. She could not quite keep the humor from her tone. “I believe, Jason, you were too shocked that I knew what you were talking about to actually discuss the dialogues.”

Jason chuckled again. “Perhaps you are right. Well then, Abigail, with which do you agree? The opinions Socrates brings up with Meno, or with Protagorus? Can virtue be taught, or not?”

Finally, a subject she could hold her own on with him. “Virtue
must
be taught, but that does not guarantee that it will be learned. Without instruction, however, the best of men would still be groping in the dark for the morality they may seek. Just as even with it, few will choose the path of righteousness.”

Jason levered himself up with his elbow to look into her face. “And you, my precious one? Have you found this righteous path?”

“
I know where it is. But sometimes I fear its toll is too high.” She bit her lip, wishing back the honest words, and lowered her lashes to cover her eyes.

She felt Jason’s steady regard on her for a moment before he brushed his lips against hers. “Let us rise, fair one. I will select the wine for the meal and help you prepare it. Some bread and cheese and fruit will suffice.”

“
I can do it,” Abigail assured him, set on proving to herself that she served him as selflessly as she did his mother. “It is your day off. Rest and enjoy it.”

“
Nonsense.” Jason was already climbing over her and reaching for clothes. “It will be too boring. I usually go out on these days, but since my friends will be coming here, it seems pointless.” Standing on the floor beside the bed, he looked down at her with pursed lips, as if evaluating what he saw. “Wear one of the garments I bought you, Abigail. The red one, perhaps.”

Her cheeks flushed to the color of the cloth he referred to, and she took one of her rare stands. “I cannot, my lord. Not before other men, strangers!”

Jason’s grin was lopsided and boyish, and he suddenly reminded her of Cleopas in his teasing moments; the resemblance did little to ease her discomfort. “I suppose it leaves little to the imagination. And I suppose that I do not want my friends thinking I am offering you to them. What about the blue?”

She considered for a moment, then nodded. It fit her more closely than she would have liked, but it at least covered her. And she had to admit that the fine Egyptian cloth felt soothing against her skin.

“
And the Egyptian necklace, too,” Jason added. “It will match well.”

“
Master,” she began, though he held up a hand to halt her.

He was still grinning. “How often do you get to wear nice things, beloved? Take this opportunity.”

She gave in, but with a sigh. For some reason, her reticence made Jason laugh.

The morning, already half gone, flew by. They got out some wine, sliced bread and cheese and fruit. Only after everything was ready would Abigail change into the beautiful garment, unwilling to risk spilling anything on it.

Dressed, adorned, and incredibly nervous, Abigail emerged from her room mere minutes before the guests should arrive. She fingered the ends of a lock of hair, wanting to pull it back so that it would be out of her way; but Jason had said she should leave it down, so it hung free and long and thick down her back, nearly brushing her waist.

“
You are enchanting,” Jason proclaimed in a voice almost reverent. He reached out to run his fingers through a tendril of her hair, smiling with pride.

She had no time to answer, as at that moment a knock sounded on the front door. Abigail hurried toward it, habit and training kicking in. As she gripped the solid iron ring, she told herself that she had no reason to suppose this visit would be anything out of her ordinary routine. She would serve, refill cups, and otherwise blend into the decor. She tugged on the handle and pulled the door open, moving with it so that it blocked her from view and presented Jason, who had followed a few steps behind her.

Jason smiled and greeted his four friends as they entered.

Abigail watched as they look around, felt their gazes on her when she closed the door behind them. The shortest spoke first. “Very nice. My compliments, Jason.” Did he mean the house or her?

Jason just snorted a laugh, which answered her question, and turned to the others. “Come, let us dine.” He led the way into the triclinium with a smile. “I am still slightly amazed we all have time off today. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

The four filed in, and Abigail took the opportunity to appraise these friends of her master as he greeted them by name. Lentulus, the first behind Jason, was a bit shorter than he, with hair of a lighter brown. He was light of build but had a look of agility about him, reminding Abigail of a feline able to bound onto a wall. Apidius, next in line, was the tallest in the group, but also looked to be uncomfortable with that fact. His shoulders were rolled forward, his head inclined slightly. His hair hung in curls over his head, and his face had a gentility the others’ did not. Menelaus, closest to Jason in both height and build, also seemed to be the most jovial. He was smiling now, as he had been since she opened the door, and the other features of his face faded away in the light of his gleaming white teeth. Titus, the last one through the door, moved with long, strong strides that accentuated his muscled frame. He was taller than Jason but shorter than Apidius and had those strong features that the Romans were wont to worship. Abigail could not readily imagine what his face would look like with an honest smile cracking the chiseled countenance.

They all took seats, several speaking at once to explain how they had come by the day off. It was Titus who said, “And your father? I heard he would be absent for two days, but not why. There is no problem, is there?”

Jason waved the subject away. “Nothing like that. He and my mother were just going out to visit some friends.” He smiled at Abigail as she filled his goblet full of the sweet red wine and then moved around the room to do the same for the guests.

Apidius, still smiling his thanks at Abigail, ventured to say, “Is he not headed for Ephraim?”

“
I believe he is.”

“
Perhaps he will run into the Galilean rebel. We heard he was moving in that direction. The governor is not certain he is a threat, but still, one can never be too certain about these dissidents. All reports of his actions are heard along with the rest.”

Jason smiled. “From what I have heard, this man is but a teacher. A rabbi. He upsets the religious leaders but stays far from politics.”

“
I have heard,” Apidius said with a sparkle in his eye that warned of a joke and a matching curve to his lips, “that some are calling him the son of a god.”

They all laughed. Abigail, hefting the tray of food, tried to ignore the conversation.

“
But what god?” Titus put some bread, cheese, and fruit on a plate when she offered it to him. “If he is the son of Volcan, I do not think that will earn him much of a reputation.”

The others laughed again, though this time Jason just smiled and swirled his wine. Abigail had already given him his food, but he did not touch it.

Lentulus reclined on his couch. “Well, if he is a teacher, he must the be the son of a wise god. Minerva, perhaps?”

The laughter continued at the suggestion that the virginal goddess had created a child.

“
I believe the idea,” Jason interrupted, “is that there is only
one
God. And his Son, therefore, would be something special.”

Menelaus cocked a brow. “Are not all gods’ sons?”

Jason opened his mouth but then just shook his head and looked at Abigail. She had stopped by his side, waiting to be needed. “Abigail, I suspect you are more adept at handling these questions. I am afraid I ignored much of the teachings on the Law. Can you explain the difference to my dear pagan friends?”

He had softened his words with a grin for those pagan friends, but they were probably all wondering what he meant by drawing her into the conversation.

Abigail looked into his eyes and realized he was not putting her on the spot; he wanted his friends put in their places. She was warmed by the knowledge that though he was not ready to embrace his mother’s religion, he was also not willing to let it be insulted within his father’s house. Bolstered by the trust he obviously put in her to be able to defend the faith, she directed her gaze to Menelaus, since he had asked the question.

“
The sons of your gods,” she said, “are merely demigods. Or heros such as Heracles and Achilles, men with supernatural strength, but men still. They were mortal, they were flawed, and they inevitably bargained their life for glory.” Her lips turned up. “In many ways, I suppose they are not unlike your gods: petty, self-interested, and bickering with their fellows.”

She switched her language to Latin, finding the formality suited her words. “My God is none of those things. He is omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient.” In Greek again, “If he, therefore, were to have a Son, that Son would share those qualities, and yet be fully man. Which means he would bleed when cut, suffer pain both physically and emotionally, and face temptation as every other man. But unlike them, he would not give in to human sins, as even your
gods
purport to do.”