A Stray Drop of Blood (41 page)

“
Different standards.” Titus let her grip his hand as another pain hit her, wondering at the amount of force her tiny fingers could exude. When she could, she breathed, “But no more. There does not have to be Roman and Hebrew now, Titus. We can all be held to the same standard that the Christ has given us.”

“
Yes.” He looked up, to where Tabitha had entered the room. “And this woman was his follower. Perhaps she can tell us more of what he taught.”

Tabitha looked at each of them, at the boy, then gave a serene smile. “I will tell you.” She put the cup of water on a table where Abigail could reach it, then moved to the other side of the bed and took a seat beside Samuel.

“
It began,” she said with sparkling eyes, “over thirty years ago, when a virgin was discovered to be with child, though she had never intimately known a man. . . .”

~*~

Andrew stood in the doorway of the inn, looking out into the approaching night.

“
It grows dark.” Simon put a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “She will undoubtedly remain at home for the night, where it is safe.”

“
But tomorrow is Sabbath. She cannot come then, and we cannot return for her. We must wait for the first of the week.” He frowned his distaste for that necessity. “I am worried for her, Simon. She could deliver the babe at any time. And that earthquake–”

“
We must trust. We must believe she is well, just detained by the commotion, the storm, the darkness. She is fine, she is probably staying with Julia for the night, she has Samuel with her. If they do not arrive an hour after first light the day after the morrow, we will go ourselves to find her.”

Andrew nodded, turned back inside. But he was less than satisfied.

~*~

“
I am not leaving.” Titus stated it firmly from the chair he had pulled up to the bed, using the tone of voice his men knew they had better not cross.

Tabitha crossed it anyway. “It is inappropriate. You are not even a relative, and you are a man. This room is no place for you during a birth. Go back to the garrison.”

“
No.” He leaned forward to pick up Abigail’s hand when she moaned. His determination turned to concern. “She grows weaker.”

Tabitha sat beside Abigail with a sigh and gently massaged her abdomen. For hours, she had told them what she knew of Jesus the Messiah, and as she spoke, Abigail had been alert, attentive, and her pain seemed to ease. But within moments of her conclusion, the woman had started thrashing in agony once again. Titus had helped hold her down so that she did not injure herself.

Now, as dawn streaked the eastern sky, Abigail had calmed all the way into unconsciousness. Samuel slept too, curled up beside Abigail. He had looked to be in equal amounts of torment as she those past hours, and he needed the rest. They all did.

Titus gazed at the exhausted midwife. “Sleep for a while. She will need you at your best later, and I will wake you if she stirs.”

She nodded, placed her hands on Abigail’s stomach for a moment as if to will strength into her, and then stood. She moved over to the chaise and lay down.

Titus was left looking down on the laboring woman, her face drawn even in slumber. His mind was a muddle, but one thing was clear: he could not just leave her alone. Because of the loss they shared, because of the things they had seen that day, because of the lessons they had learned, and because she had no one else, a bond had been forged between them. He did not understand it, but he knew it was there. And as he studied her, protectiveness overcame him.

The hand he held was small, so delicate that it seemed he could crush it without effort, yet so strong when it gripped his in pain. He put their palms together, and her fingers barely reached his second knuckle. She was no bigger than a child, yet here she lay giving birth to one of her own. He drew in a deep breath and thought back to the first times he had seen her. Her frailty had not struck him then, nor had her strength. All he had been able to see was a beautiful face, an alluring body, and the modest reserve that ensured he would never know either but from a distance.

Days ago, he had seen only his friend’s widow, large with his friend’s child.

Today, he saw a person. A being with a soul, with a mind, with a heart seeking the same things his suddenly was. He saw a life completely separate from his, yet somehow linked to it.

His world had always been just that: his. But now suddenly he was aware of the minuteness of his own existence, of the infinite God above him, of the aching woman beside him. He heard the soft, childlike breathing of the small slave boy, the restless sighs of the midwife, and he realized for the first time that he was not a world unto himself. He was not so superior, nor so alone. He was but a man, one who had spent so much of his life following his own senseless wills that he had not even known he was capable of thinking of another’s. But that day a hand far larger than his had settled over him, and he felt its soothing touch.

He sat immobile for an hour, then Abigail blinked awake, her eyes hazy with discomfort. “Titus. Why are you still here?”

Titus’s smile was as soft as her voice. “Because this is where I belong.”

She lifted her palm from his and reached up to touch his lips with the tips of her fingers, her mouth curving up in disbelief. “I did not think you could smile.” The teasing note in her voice sounded like music in contrast to the edge that had been there just a moment before. “I was certain that finely carved sculpture you call your face would crack and crumble if you ever attempted it.”

Titus chuckled, his smile only growing. When her hand lowered, he took it again in his. “I have not had much cause in the past, I admit.”

“
You should remedy that. It only improves your features. Of course,” she continued, pitching her voice even lower, “if you did so, you may not evoke quite so much fear.”

“
Well, we cannot have that, can we?” Then he sobered. “You were never afraid of me, Abigail.”

She squeezed his hand weakly. “You were nothing but an arrogant heathen, after all. And you always respected Jason. I had nothing to fear from you. Though I admit I knew a moment of it that first time I saw you in the alley.”

He nodded at those truths, tensing when she did. He watched her features contract, her back arch, and let her grip his hand as the pain rolled through her. By the time it ebbed, Samuel had come awake, and Tabitha too had left her bed in favor of seeing the cause of Abigail’s groans.

The midwife felt her abdomen again. Her gaze met Titus’s, and she shook her head just a bit. He sighed heavily enough for both of them.

~*~

As midday drew near, Titus had no choice but to leave Abigail’s side for a while. He had tasks he had to attend to at the Praetorium, loose ends to tie up before he left in six more days. First, oddly, was arranging for the guard that the Pharisee had requested. The man had apparently shown up at daybreak to begin pestering the general about it.

“
Asinius!” the general shouted when Titus entered. He motioned to the well-dressed religious leader. “This man says Pilate promised him a guard and put you in charge of it.”

“
Marcus!” Titus shouted in turn when his underling happened by. The man froze at the sound of his voice, snapping into attention. “For the next day, ten of you will be guarding the teacher’s tomb.”

“
The
deceiver
,” the Pharisee corrected.

Titus speared him with an unimpressed glare. He turned back to his soldier. “Go in shifts, two at a time. You and Dominus have first shift, then Trannis and Theophilus, Caius and Julius, Valerius and Lucio, and Subrius and Marcus Annaeus.” He motioned to the Pharisee much as the general had. “He will show you the way.”

The general looked none too pleased. “Those are some of our best men.”

“
Pilate’s order.” His soldier was already running to find his fellows. Titus sent a withering gaze over their guest. “This man apparently thinks the teacher’s disciples are very clever, that they could steal a body from a sealed tomb without anyone knowing.”

The general breathed a laugh. “He has obviously not seen the stone they sealed it with, then. It takes two men just to budge it and makes a terrible noise. There will be no sneaking.”

Either offended or annoyed, the Pharisee turned and walked away a few steps.

“
Titus,” the general said more softly, drawing the younger’s gaze back to him, “I heard that you took Abigail home, that her labor has begun. Have you heard any more? Did she have a son?”

The mention of it made him weary anew. “She is still in labor. The babe is breech, and the midwife is beginning to get anxious.”

The general sighed. “They need an heir. Julia has been praying, lighting incense to Juno.”

Titus felt his spine stiffen but knew not how to explain to his superior that such an act would only be offensive to the woman in labor. Instead, he said, “When I arrived with Abigail, the others were gone. Do you know where they went?”

“
Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“
The only one remaining was a slave boy who said the doctor made them all leave. I would have thought they would have contacted you.”

The general shook his head, his brows drawn. “I am certain it was Drusus, we knew he was coming. But we received no missive. Did the boy not know where they went?”

“
No.” Titus sighed. “And they have not returned. I cannot imagine them simply leaving Abigail unless the situation was dire.”

“
I will ask Julia. Perhaps she knows something I do not.”

Titus nodded. “If so, send word. I will be at the Visibullis house with Abigail.”

The general did not question his determination as Menelaus had. He merely nodded in return and went back to his duties. Titus hurried through the rest of his tasks, and when he walked out of the garrison an hour after entering it, it was as a civilian.

But strangely enough, being no longer a part of the military did not make him feel free, as he had anticipated. Instead, he felt a weight of responsibility that he had never before known. It settled over him heavily . . . yet rather than bearing him down, it bolstered him up. He returned to the house of his late friend and decided he would not leave it again until either the child was born or. . . not.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The pain grew steadily worse, but Abigail stopped noticing it. Her eyes, strained and tired, were focused on the window, watching as darkness stole over the land.

A day. It had been a whole day since the pains began, and she had nothing to show for it. No baby, very little progress; her hope was wearing thin.

“
Jehovah, please,” she whispered into the empty room–Tabitha and Titus and Samuel were all eating, and she knew they would be back in a matter of moments. Her voice wavered as her heart inclined toward heaven. “I ask you to spare my child. I know he was conceived in sin, and I know your justice demands punishment for that. But please, my Lord, I have lost Jason, Cleopas, I know not where Ester is. I ask your mercy, not for me, but for the men who loved you so much. They deserve for their name to live on.”

A particularly sharp pain gripped her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “
Eli
!” she called out, then panted. “My God, I beg you. Spare Jason’s child. Take me if you will, but not the babe. Please, not the babe.”

Her words had faded to little more than a breath by the time she finished her plea. She opened weary eyes into the dismal room, then choked on her own air when a shadow fell over her.

He stood tall, almost regal beside the bed, his best clothes hanging on him as she had seen them do so many times. His hair looked clean, his skin glowing in health. And his eyes–his eyes had that ever-soft quality that deepened in love as he looked at her.

“
Jason!” She squeaked more than spoke, trembling at the vision.

He sat beside her, and though she could feel the warmth of his body seeping into her legs, the mattress did not sink under his weight. He reached up and brushed a damp, limp lock of hair away from her face. “Faith,” he whispered.

It was the same voice she had heard for the past year, but not. Though nearly silent, the one word echoed through the chamber, resonating in every crevice.

“
Jason . . .”

He put a finger over her lips. All she could feel of the touch was a warmth, like the heat of a candle.

“
You believe,” Jason said in the same resounding quiet. “It is enough. Your faith will see you through.”

He put his warm hand on her stomach, and it covered the splatter of blood that had fallen there the day before. The same searing cut through her again, the same burning ignited in her blood and traveled through her. She felt the child turning within her, and she cried out at the glorious hurt it caused.

Within seconds, her shout brought footsteps flying down the hall, and a moment later the door sprang opened. All three stopped in the threshold when they saw the man sitting on the bed. She saw their eyes widen.

Jason stood again and smiled first at Abigail, then the others. “Thank you.” He inclined his head in gratitude, and turned to walk away. As Abigail looked on, he glided through the wall and disappeared.