A Stray Drop of Blood (30 page)

Menelaus lifted a brow. “Did you oppose it?”

She let out a breath of a laugh. “Oppose it? As I am sure you have not forgotten, I was a slave. I had no say. He loves me and decided to marry me, so here we are.”

“
You do not love him.” Titus stated it, but it was obviously a challenge.

She turned on the Roman with all of her fury, somehow managing to keep it quiet and focused on its target. “He was my master, and now he is my husband. I will honor him and respect him and serve him.”

“
But you do not love him.” Titus sounded smug now.

A hand settled protectively over her babe. “He is my life. Please excuse me.” She did not wait for their permission but slipped quickly between them and disappeared in the crowd.

“
Well, she has spirit.” Menelaus watched her go with a hint of a smile. He knew few men who would dare stand up to Titus Asinius as she had. “I must grant her that.”

Titus just shook his head. “Such women are a bane to men. They possess and conquer.”

“
And bear sons who can do the same. Jason’s son will be strong and well taught, at the least.”

“
In what culture, though?” Titus crossed his arms forbiddingly over his chest. “If she prevails with her Hebrew traditions, the child will be caught and crushed by them.”

Menelaus shrugged. “Jason will not allow it. He is Roman in his thoughts, Titus, on that we all agree. He will see that his sons are, too.”

“
He is off to a great beginning, marrying his Jewess slave in the Hebrew fashion.”

Menelaus could only laugh at his friend’s obvious abhorrence and clap a hand to his shoulder. “Forget it, Titus. Let us eat and drink and enjoy the friends present. It is our only role now.”

Titus sent one last scathing glance at the bride before following him back into the crowd.

~*~

For days, Abigail shuddered each time she thought of the loathing Jason’s friends had for her. She did not like them, either, and had not since the first time she met them all when Cleopas had journeyed to hear the rabbi speak. Then, they had all looked at her with enough lust to make her want to hide. Now, they looked at her with such hatred she wanted to scream.

It was not her fault! She had done nothing to try to convince Jason to marry her. She had never mentioned the word to him, never hinted that she would wish it. At the last, it had been inevitable; he had come to care for her, to love their unborn child, and he could not tolerate the idea of it being illegitimate. He had weighed his options and made his choice.

It had not been hers. She would never have chosen to force him from the life he had wanted for so long. But now she would bear the consequences of his decisions, she would be the focus of the wrath of his friends. They probably thought they were concerned for his best interest; well, so was she, but she had never accused them of being unfavorable influences, had she? She never pointed her finger at their pagan habits, had never admonished their heavy drinking or their contempt for her people. She had never once insulted the Roman people or the Roman culture, and as payment for her fairness she was being reviled.

So be it. It was Jason’s opinions that mattered, and he had proven where his loyalties lay, ultimately. They had been married by the authority of the one God, in the Hebrew tradition. By his choice. And she was glad. It warmed her to hear him begin to talk of Jehovah as one of his children would, to pray to and praise him. She would not be ashamed of her pleasure in her husband’s renewing faith, and she would make no excuses to the friends who would just as soon stone her as speak to her.

Yes, for days she simmered, hiding it as best as she could, refusing to let her smile slacken when her husband was home. It was easy enough to cover any unhappiness; there was the excitement of marriage, the plans for the coming child. Soon enough, she could put the Romans’ disapproval from her mind completely.

Naturally, it was when she had come to her internal peace that Jason drew her close one evening and said, “I have been thinking, Abigail, about how we shall raise our children. How will we reconcile the two worlds of which they will be a part?”

Abigail sighed wearily. Was this where he would renege on his previous acceptance of the Hebrew Law and declare that to raise them as Romans was the only way to ensure their positions in the world? Would he say that he had spoken to his friends, and they had made a good case for returning to Rome, after all?

Jason chuckled as if he could read her thoughts and found them preposterous. “Do not look so woebegone, my wife. I am merely going to suggest we mirror my parents’ choices. You do not find that so awful, do you?”

“
No.” She smiled at her own doubts. “I find that perfect.”

He spread his palm over the mass of her stomach. “Good. The particulars, of course, we will have to figure out for ourselves. For instance, a name. My parents compromised by choosing a Greek one for me, but I am not so certain that is my desire. I have been thinking that since the baby will have the Roman surname, we should choose a Hebrew first name.”

For a moment, all Abigail could do was stare at him. “That is what you wish?”

His smile could not have been more sincere. “I do. Something traditional, although I have not really thought of one I prefer over another. Daniel, perhaps, or David.”

“
Or Jonathan, or Joshua,” she suggested warmly.

Jason grimaced at the last. “Joshua is too popular these days. Especially with all the changes you can make translating into Greek and Latin. But Jonathan I like.”

“
Or Micah, Jeremiah, Zacharias.” Her brows drew together. “What are the names from your mother’s family?”

Jason shook his head. “She does not talk about them much, I do not know. What of yours?”

“
My father was Michael, and his father Aaron.”

He considered for a moment. “We will decide; there is no rush. I believe the name is given eight days after birth, correct? At the time of circumcision if it is a son.”

“
Yes.” She covered Jason’s hand with her own. “And you would wish that, too?”

Jason pressed his lips to her temple. “It is the sign of the covenant between God and our people. If we have a son, I would not want to deprive him of that. If he chooses another path, that is his decision; but I will not take it from him, just as my parents decided with me. And I am finding that it is a difficult covenant to put aside. All of my life I have struggled against the Law, Abigail. And now I find myself praying that Jehovah can forgive my negligence. I finally see that my father was right in embracing my mother’s faith.”

Abigail pressed on his hand, her words soft. “You have grown into a good man, my husband.” She returned the smile he offered, wondering if the changes they had made in their lives would be enough for their demanding, jealous God. To be safe, when they went to the synagogue that Sabbath she would suggest he purchase a sin offering for them. And then she would pray it sufficed.

~*~

Cleopas sharpened his knife, his eyes on the horizon where the sun was setting in a glorious wash of colors, splashing the earth beneath it with regal hues of fire that burnished the city gold. He heard his son climbing the ladder onto the roof and soon saw him appear.

“
A beautiful evening.” Jason filled his lungs with the crisp air, then let it out again as he sat beside Cleopas. “Abigail is sitting at a window watching the sunset, but she did not wish to leave the warmth of the hearth.”

Cleopas chuckled. “That is best. Soon, my son, you will be a father. Ester tells me Abigail has another month, perhaps six weeks to go until the child is ready to join us.”

“
I believe Abigail is beginning to wish it were sooner.” A smile filled his voice. “I, too, am anxious, though for different reasons. It will be such a blessing to hold my child. And we have decided to name it after Mother’s parents. Benjamin if it is a boy, Hannah if it is a girl.”

Cleopas’s lips turned up in peaceful appreciation. “Your mother will be pleased. Of course, she is always pleased these days. You have made her heart glad, my son, in the ways you have grown.”

Jason chuckled. “I cannot say that was my intention, but I value her approval.”

“
There was a day you did all you could to avoid it. And another not so long ago when you would be spending your evenings out in the city with your friends.”

“
My friends are less than pleased with me. And I with them. Moreover, I would rather spend my few free hours with my wife. Hence, I suppose, why they are less than pleased. Which is, in turn, why
I
am so with them.”

Cleopas chuckled again. “You will all resolve it, I am certain. In spite of the many things in which we differ, I have a respect for those you call friends. They strike me as loyal and dedicated. Those qualities are difficult to find in men these days.”

“
And they feel I have defected by marrying Abigail.” Jason shook his head. “They almost did not come to my wedding, Father. And apparently Menelaus and Titus cornered Abigail and told her in no uncertain terms that she was ruining my life.”

Cleopas raised a brow. “Two grown men to battle one small, pregnant woman? I hope they emerged unscathed.”

Jason let out a roar of laughter. “Knowing my wife, she put them in their places. The men would not say, and Abigail refused to discuss the episode, but her wit is quick and her tongue sharp. You did well to educate her.”

“
She had the mind for it. She knows Latin now better than I, I think.”

“
She certainly knows the Law better than I. It is rather embarrassing to have to ask one’s wife to explain the customs of one’s people.”

Cleopas smiled. His heart swelled at the thought that his son was actually asking the questions. “You have much more knowledge of it than I had when I married your mother. But it has the benefit of making sense, and of genuinely working for the good of the citizens. I believe you have come to realize that of late, have you not?”

His eyes went contemplative. “Indeed. But my concern is that it is impossible to keep all the laws, Father, no matter how hard I strive. Remembering them all is difficult enough, remembering to do them–and how am I to know that the sacrifices I offer are enough? How can I tell if Jehovah is pleased with my efforts or if he is still holding my failings against me? I have a fear of turning out like Cain, offering what I have, but not being accepted, then losing it all in a moment of anger.”

Cleopas was silent for a moment as he considered. He put his knife back in its sheath and set it aside, and only then spoke. “The Lord looks at the heart, my son. He will forgive you your sins if you truly repent of them. But if you offer a sacrifice without truly being remorseful for the actions, why should he accept it? Saying the words, doing the motions is not enough. He requires devotion. He ordered his people to write the Law upon their hearts; that means he wishes us to love them, to obey because we believe they are good and right. Perhaps Cain was not sincere; perhaps he offered the spoiled vegetables, or did it only for recognition, not to the glory of Jehovah. The only way to be sure you are forgiven is to realize you need to be, and to truly desire it, being prepared to put aside the part of you that sins. I believe the failing of many men today is that they do not recognize their own imperfections.”

Jason mirrored his contemplative silence. When he spoke, it was hushed, as if the coming night and its time of rest was already sneaking in. “Mother did not teach you that.”

“
No.” Which made him sigh. “Your mother is still battling with the idea that the performance of traditions may not be enough. And it pains me, because she has always served with her heart, yet still she refuses to acknowledge that as being the important part, rather than her words or the amount she gives to the synagogue.” He shook his head in dismay. “So many people have scorned her, have proven again and again that their faith ends at their lips, yet she defends them as being righteous.”

Cleopas felt Jason’s gaze on his profile, steady and measuring. “Father . . . not all that long ago, you baffled me. But since living under your roof again, I have seen the authority you hold. The kind I once thought came from position or title. But watching you . . . I think perhaps it is your goodness that makes you stand so straight. Yet still you are humble.” He chuckled, shook his head. “You are a blend of contradictions. The Roman who is such a dedicated Hebrew. The soldier who promotes peace. The master who teaches his slaves they are his equals. I can only pray that someday I can be the kind of man you are.”

The words warmed him all the way to his core. And lit a hope he had all but given up on. “Jason . . . months ago, you would not have heard me if I spoke of this. I pray now that you will. Another thing your mother will not accept is Messiah; but he has come. I have heard this teacher they call Jesus the Christ, and I have felt in my heart that he holds the keys to our salvation.”

“
The Son of God.” There was a strange note in his voice, as if he remembered something Cleopas was not privy to. “But how do you know he is not just another man speaking empty words? Many have claimed to perform miracles, Father. Many can speak the same claims.”

“
But no other follows his own lessons as this man does, and no other man has ever chastised the people so much without ever compromising the Law. The man John whom was titled the Baptist recognized this Jesus as the messiah prophesied in the Word. Even Herod feared that man.”